“Yeah, that and prom.”
I stared at him.
With his eyes on my face, he laughed. “You look a little shocked by that.”
“I just…haven’t thought of prom.”
“I figured as much.” He scooted over, and his entire leg pressed against mine. “I know a lot is going on, and going to the prom might seem stupid, but I think it’s what you need.”
“It is?”
“Yes, and there’s something else you need.”
There were a lot of things that I needed. My eyes searched his face, and for the hundredth time, I wanted to kick myself for not seeing him before for who he was. “What?”
Carson tucked my hair behind my ear, his hand lingering against my cheek for the briefest second. “You need me to take you to the dance.”
I opened my mouth, but there were no words. A sudden rush of images of being invited to dances in the past flashed in rapid succession. Hide-and-seek invites, a card stuck in roses, a large banner spread across the baseball diamond. All of them intricate setups, but for some reason, Carson inviting me to the tree house to ask me pulled at my heartstrings.
Carson lowered his chin. “Usually, I can figure people out by the looks on their faces, but I have no clue what you’re thinking. Good idea? Bad? Terrible?”
I stared to laugh, but it was choked off as reality came crashing back. “It’s a wonderful idea, but I can’t go with you.”
“I’ll admit. I’m kind of confused.” He leaned back, resting his hands on his knees. “You think it’s a wonderful idea, but you can’t go with me?”
“Yes. No.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
He gave me a small, thin smile. “Yeah, I don’t. Care to explain?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to go to the dance with me.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, Sam? Wait.” Understanding colored his tone. “Is it because of the police investigating Cassie’s…murder? And you think you did it.”
“Car—”
“You did not kill Cassie, Sam. Okay? Get that through that thick—albeit cute—skull of yours. You’re not a murderer.”
“It’s not just that. I’m…I’m sort of messed up.”
He stared at me. “Aren’t we all?”
“No, not like this.” I lowered my eyes, fidgeting. “I’m really messed up, Carson.”
There was a heavy sigh. “You’re stressed out and—”
“I had to see a therapist today!” I said, probably a little louder than I should have. Tucking my legs against my chest, I forced my voice lower. “Last night…last night I woke up and I thought there was someone in my room. I thought he was touching me. And no one was there, Carson.”
“Okay.” His voice was gruff. “It could be stress. Or it could be a memory. You’ve said that some of the memories were like they were really happening, right?”
I laughed, and it was the wrong thing to do, because it sounded all kinds of wrong. “That’s not all. Those notes I’d been finding? They’re in my handwriting. I’ve been writing notes to myself and not even remembering it.”
“Sam—”
“Please don’t say something to make me feel better about all this.” I fought to swallow the tears, clearing my throat twice. “I left school early today to meet with a shrink. I’m going to be on meds. So I know something is wrong with me—more than just stress.”
After my speech, silence descended between us. I was doing everything to keep from crying, because out of everyone, what he thought of me had come to mean so much. Prom was definitely out of the question. Who wanted to take Insanity Sam? Our friendship might also go down the drain. Hell, I was surprised he was still sitting here.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I’m going to say something, and I’m only going to say it once, and then this is done.”
I lifted my wet lashes. Here it comes. Preparing for what I was sure would be probably the nicest rejection in the history of mankind, I nodded and got ready to bolt through the tree house opening.
“I know you didn’t have anything to do with Cassie,” he said. “And you have got to stop living your life as if you did.”
I blinked, waiting for the rest.
He spread his hands along my cheeks. “I don’t care if you have to see a shrink or go on medication, Sam. I’m being serious. That doesn’t change that I’ve always thought you are an amazing person.”
Through bleary eyes, I searched his face for signs that he was joking. “How can you say that—”
“When you wouldn’t give me the time of day for years?” He laughed. “Remember, Sam, you had your moments. And those moments outshone everything else.”
“You’re perfect,” I whispered, blinking back tears.
Carson snorted. “I’m far from perfect.”
I didn’t believe that.
“So is it a yes or no?” he asked, moving his hands down my cheeks, so that his thumbs curved along my bottom lip, sending a shiver through me, lessening the very real fact that I was a hundred percent certifiable. “Will you go to prom with me?”
I laughed at the absurdity of it. It was official. I was crazy—crazy in the way of seeing things, leaving myself notes, and tomorrow I’d be sitting in the therapist’s office instead of my last period. And Carson still wanted me to go to prom with him.
Another thing was official. I was in love with Carson.
A wide, beautiful smile parted his lips, exposing the one chipped tooth that I found so, so charming. “I’m going to be honest. If you’re going to say no, it’s about to get really awkward up in here.”
The swelling in my chest returned, but in a good way. Pulling back, I grasped his wrists. A horrible thought occurred. What if I had been crazy before the incident with Cassie but had hidden it well? Going to prom seemed like a bad idea, but if I was crazy then, I was crazy now. And if I hadn’t done this to Cassie, what else would I be cheating myself out of experiencing?
“Sam…”
Letting go of his wrists, my arms went around his neck. Carson didn’t hesitate. His arms went around my waist, holding me just as tightly.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” He laughed, pressing his face into my hair.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping I was making the right decision. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
In the car the following morning I turned to Scott and asked probably one of the strangest questions I could ever ask my brother. “Can you take me dress shopping?”
He choked on a piece of chocolate-frosted Pop-Tart. Part of it fell between the seat and center console of the car he’d been renting. “What?”
I flushed. “I need to get a dress for prom, and I don’t have any friends.”
Digging for the missing Pop-Tart piece, he glanced up at me. “You…you have friends, Sam.”
“No, I don’t.” Swatting his hand away, I managed to scoop out the piece and toss it back in its wrapper. “Everyone at school calls me Insanity Sam.”
“Not everyone.” He stuck the pastry in his mouth so he could back out of the garage, then returned to holding it. “Okay. Who’s taking you? If you say Del, I might thump your ass.”
I made a face. “Carson asked me.”
He spat out another piece. “And you actually said yes?”
“Yeah. I like him. A lot.”
Scott tossed the rest of his breakfast out the car window. “Man, wow, back into the twilight zone.” He slid me a sidelong look. His eyes glimmered. “He’s a much better choice than Del.”
“So you’re not going to thump Carson’s ass, then?”
“I don’t know. I think I have to, just a little bit. Being your brother and all.”
“Of course,” I agreed, grinning.
He rolled his eyes. “Julie will go with you. She was actually planning to go soon.”
Fiddling with the strap on my bag, I stared out the window, lips pursed. “I don’t want you to make her do that. It would be embarrassing.”
“I wouldn’t make her. I’ll ask her in class to see if she’s game.” He paused. “I promise if she isn’t, I won’t push it. Okay?”
“All right.”
We coasted to a stop outside Carson’s house. I leaned forward, eager to see him. The front door swung open, and there he was, in all his wet-haired glory. He looked magnificent in just jeans and a plain shirt.
Scott cleared his throat. “Did you…did you take your meds yet?”
Distracted from my blatant ogling, I faced my brother. “Yeah, I took my first one today.”
“Do you feel the same?”
I’d taken the pill over an hour ago, and I wasn’t feeling any different. “Yeah.”
Scott dropped the conversation the moment Carson opened the back door. He slid in, dropping his bag on the seat beside him. Twisting around in my seat, I peeked over the headrest.
“Hey,” Carson said, grinning.
My smile spread. “Hey.”
A groan came from the driver. “This is going to suck.”
Carson and I grinned at each other.
“Not for me,” he said.
chapter twenty-two
Things were sort of okay over the next week. There hadn’t been any more visits from Detective Ramirez, and my meetings with Mrs. Messer stopped since I began seeing Dr. O’Connell.
I kind of missed her and her glasses, though.
The pills seemed to be working faster than expected. No hallucinations or random notes. However, I did find my stash of legal notepad in the office at home while looking for some paper clips. Seeing the pad of paper kind of hit home for me. That night was bad, full of tears and frustration.
But even with the pills and how things had calmed down around me, there was this growing unrest within me, usually worse at night, when I lay awake, counting the neon-green stars to make sure there were still fifty-six on the ceiling. It was like a lull in the storm, right before chaos reigned supreme.
Each night, after practice, Carson came over to “watch TV” with Scott, which really was just a front to hang out with me without freaking my parents out. It seemed to be working, and those one to two hours a night had become the thing I looked forward to the most every day. We’d sit side by side on the couch, pretending to watch TV while Scott pretended that he wasn’t watching us like a hawk. Carson had gotten creative in ways to accidentally touch me, a brush of his hand or leg. By the time he left, I wanted to crawl in his lap and kiss him.
And he hadn’t tried to kiss me. We hadn’t even come close since the day he visited me after the accident. I had a feeling that he didn’t want to rush things because of everything that I’d been through, and I wasn’t offended by that.
Prom became everyone’s focus at school. Even Veronica and Candy had turned their slur campaigns toward their prom court competition instead of me. With each passing day, I faded into the background, and I loved it.
Del got to me after classes on Friday, while I switched out books, following up on the promise I hadn’t kept.
The shiner had faded to just a very faint blue under his eye, but he looked like crap. “We need to talk.”
I was so getting tired of hearing those words. Grabbing my trig book, I shoved it into my bag. “No, we don’t.” I spun around and headed toward the back entrance.
He was right beside me, dogged as ever. “People were talking in practice yesterday.”
I could only imagine about what. Pushing open the door, I took the pavilion steps two at a time. Scott would be waiting to take me home before heading back for practice.
“Don’t you even want to know?” he asked, anger sharpening his words.
“Not really.”
He shot in front of me, blocking my path between two cars. “What is with you? You’re acting like we weren’t together for almost four years, Sammy. Four years and you can’t even give me the time of day?”
There was a good chance that the pills might be kicking in ahead of schedule, because I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even sad. Looking up at him, I felt nothing but general disappointment. Maybe it wasn’t the pills—just a sign that I was moving on from this.
Kind of like how everyone seemed to be moving on from Cassie.
I shouldered my backpack and squinted. “I’m sorry. I know we spent a long time together—”
“But since you can’t remember it, you don’t care? Well, I do. I remember it and I care.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.” I sighed, glancing over his shoulder. If Scott caught Del blocking me like this, he’d end up with another black eye. “I know you care about that time, and believe it or not, so do I.”
“Good.” He sounded hopeful. “At least that’s a common ground.”
“Not in that way. I care about you, and maybe one day I’ll forgive you for those pictures, but even if I did, we aren’t getting back together.”
He reached for my hand, but I pulled away. Hurt flickered across his face, but behind that was stubbornness and something darker and stronger than I cared to see. At least I knew the pills didn’t totally squash my emotional compass.
“Can’t we just go somewhere and talk?”
My mouth dried. “You have practice.”
“Screw practice. Our relationship is more important than a damn practice.”
“I’m not more important. Baseball means a lot to you.”
“That’s not true.” He looked as if I’d hit him upside the head with a concrete block, as if he couldn’t believe I’d disagree. “We need to talk this out.”
Apprehension was growing rapidly, and it made me impatient to get away from him. “I need you to understand this, Del. We aren’t getting back together. Not now. Not a week from—”
“It’s true, then? What I heard in practice yesterday? That you’re going to prom with Carson?”
I wasn’t answering that question, because I knew it would be like opening Pandora’s box and letting out a slew of angry problems. So I stepped around him and picked up my pace. Just a few more rows of cars, and I’d be free of Del. Just a few more steps…
“Damn it, Sammy!”
The anger in his voice caused me to jump, but I didn’t look back. He’d turn my going to the dance with Carson into my choosing someone else over him. And Carson had nothing to do with Del. They weren’t even in the same league.
Why was Del so determined to patch things? Another mystery I couldn’t solve or even begin to understand. During lunch this past week, Veronica had been all but sitting in his lap. It was obvious she liked him and was more than willing to take their friendship to the next level. A much better choice than me for several reasons.
I jogged down a row, passing a dusty red Jeep, when something darted along my peripheral vision. My heart stuttered unevenly, and chills skittered up and down my spine. A loud buzzing filled my ears.
No. It’s not real.
Again, on the other side of me, the figure moved, matching my steps. Air froze in my throat. Stress-induced hallucinations—panic attacks. That was what Dr. O’Connell had called them. If I got too upset, I’d start seeing things.
That was all it was. Not real. Not there.
Keeping my eyes trained on the sleek black sedan Scott had rented, I dug around in my bag for the bottle of emergency pills. I didn’t have anything to swallow the pill down with, but I had to make do. My heart was pounding way too fast, my vision now darkening at the corners.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
A hand clamped down on my arm, spinning me around. My scream got stuck in my throat, and the bottle of pills hit the gravel. Raising my arm, I prepared to strike.
“Hey!” Scott blocked my arm. “Calm down there, ninja.”
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