That Night

by Cecily Wolfe

  He tried to play it off but Danny could see his hands shake as he waved everyone away.

  “It’s cool, it’s cool,” he kept saying, wiggling around on the bench and trying to swing his legs over the side. No one was letting him move.

  “The hell?!” he said loudly, his voice both indignant and scared.

  “Problem here, gentlemen?”

  The football coach stood at the end of the table, staring at the players and the kid in turn, glancing at Sarah and Cassidy briefly before returning his focus to the shaking boy. He spoke, however, to Danny as he stared.

  “What’s his story?”

  “I don’t . . .” the boy began, but Danny interrupted him.

  “He asked if I could get him drugs.”

  Sarah’s hand fell from his arm, and Danny was sorry he had said anything. She didn’t leave, though, and he saw Cassidy’s arm go around her.

  “He’s full of shit, why would I . . .”

  The coach interrupted him this time, stepping around the table as his team moved out of the way. He grabbed the boy’s arm and yanked him to a standing position.

  “Let’s walk.”

  The kid sputtered but didn’t try to pull away from the coach’s hold. Danny watched them leave the cafeteria, as his teammates circled him.

  “What the hell?”

  “Gonna kick the shit out of him.”

  “What did he say?”

  They were careful around the girls and didn’t push them out of the way. Danny appreciated that, since he didn’t want Sarah to leave. He wondered why she had been so close to his table.

  Had she seen what was happening? Did she suspect something was wrong? Or was she just walking by and happened to see him stand up and lean towards that kid? He shook his head at the guys and sighed.

  “Asked if I could get drugs for him. Like I’m a dealer or something.”

  They fell silent, and he turned to see Sarah’s expression. She looked down but Cassidy was watching him, her jaw tight, her eyes furious. Sarah turned towards Cass and the two of them walked away. She had approached him, though, had touched his arm, so that had to mean something.

  “Jackass. Coach’ll take care of it.”

  “If not, we will.”

  Danny watched Sarah and Cassidy for a moment, their heads close together as they walked away. Were they talking? What was Sarah saying?

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded to his teammates, and they smiled and nodded back. They could have rallied behind their other teammate when Danny had fought with him, or walked away when this loser showed up moments ago.

  People liked to mind their own business, which was a good thing except when that business meant that someone needed help. He was relieved to know that they had his back, but worried, as he held the memory of Sarah’s grip on his arm in his head.

  Was she disgusted by his anger, or by the kid’s expectation that he sold drugs, or rather, that his brother knew people who sold drugs? His brother did know people like that, obviously, and that had led to Kayla’s death, so maybe that was it. Damn, she wasn’t even a user.

  Why the hell did she do it? He sighed, wondering if they would ever know. It didn’t matter, and it wouldn’t bring her back, but still . . . what would make a girl like Kayla want to, even once? If someone like Kayla could do it, that meant a lot of kids could, kids no one would ever think would use.

  It was a frightening idea to understand, and he wished he hadn’t thought so much about it.

  “Don’t want to be late for class.”

  One of the guys bumped into him, jolting him from his thoughts, and he realized that it was time to go to his next class. How were any of them supposed to concentrate on school after that party?

  How were they supposed to concentrate on anything?

  Day Eighteen

  Wednesday

  The English teacher who advised the school newspaper staff approached Cass as Cass left her American literature class, which was in the room beside the newspaper lab.

  “Do you have a minute? I can write you a pass, if you do.”

  Cass wasn’t sure what the woman wanted with her, unless she felt the need to bring up the bathroom incident, which wasn’t actually an incident since she had intervened. Not that Cass wasn’t thankful, mostly, because she didn’t need to be sitting at home knowing that Sarah was in school by herself, and honestly, a suspension wouldn’t look good when she applied to the Air Force.

  She wasn’t sure that anyone would say something to Sarah, but overhearing others talking shit was a problem, for both of them. There was no reason why they shouldn’t defend themselves or Kayla, suspension or not, but she wouldn’t be a good friend to the friend who was here with her if she was fighting over the one who was lost to her forever.

  “Sure, I guess.”

  She followed the teacher into the lab, where rows of computers with huge monitors sat on long tables with haphazardly arranged chairs. Stacks of papers rested everywhere, along with random collections of pens and markers and a few highlighters that dotted the tables.

  “Why do you have all this paper? Don’t you do everything on computers?”

  The teacher smiled at her while gesturing towards a chair, and Cass sat down.

  “We do, but most of the editors like to print the pages out, then go over them with pens and highlighters to make changes. Even with computers, there still something about holding the pages in your hands . . .”

  Cass nodded, but didn’t really understand.

  “So?” she asked, shuffling the books in her lap back and forth as she waited.

  “About Kayla, I wanted to run something by you.”

  Cass shook her head.

  “No assembly, no memorial whatever. Sarah told me what the guidance counselor said, and no, I don’t think it’s a good idea. There’s too much shit - excuse me - being said, and drawing this out only makes it worse. I get that some people want to remember her, and want to be nice about it, but you don’t know. You don’t hear it.”

  The older woman relaxed into her chair and crossed one leg over the other. Cass could see she was considering how to respond, and she hoped she wasn’t the kind of teacher to get hot and bothered over her use of the word shit.

  “I know that Sarah and Danny were suspended for hitting another student who said something insensitive . . .”

  “Insensitive? He acted like Kayla used drugs, as a habit. And she didn’t. None of us do.”

  “I understand, and I agree that he was a jerk. And I know that those girls in the bathroom said something about her, too, or you wouldn’t have been chasing them when I happened to walk down that hallway. Right?”

  Cass nodded and looked away. She wondered why the editors couldn’t just read the articles on the computer. What was the point if they were just going to waste all that paper, anyway?

  “People always talk. I’m not saying that it’s right, but people are judgmental by nature. I wish I could say that it’s something that gets better after high school, but unfortunately . . .”

  “Yeah, we know. I know.”

  “The we is you and Sarah, correct? It used to be you, Sarah, and Kayla, right?”

  Cass nodded. It was still the three of them, in her heart.

  “A lot of parents are concerned, and I can’t blame them. Someone came into our town and hurt one of our kids. That would make anyone jumpy. They don’t need to take it out on you or Sarah, or Danny, for that matter, but I understand why they’re worried.”

  There really wasn’t anything Cass could say, but she wasn’t thinking too hard about anything, either. Her mind was wandering to Mia, and her cheerleading practice after school today. She wondered if the other girl’s mother was going to change her mind and ask Mia to her daughter’s party, or if she would act like nothing had happened.

  How could someone ignore a little girl crying over her dead sister? Did anyone really think that hanging out with Mia would make their kid use drugs? What the hell kind of though
t process was that?

  “Hey, Cass. I’ll get to the point. I think the newspaper would be a great forum for us to use to challenge any misconceptions out there about Kayla, about her death, and about this drug. People are afraid of what they don’t understand, and while this may be a problem in other areas, other counties, this is new to us.”

  “No, actually, it’s not.”

  The woman squinted at her in disbelief.

  “We would have heard . . .”

  “There’s a girl here who has a cousin who died of an overdose. Not here, but another school, and she says that no one cares what happens to the kids there, if they get pregnant, get in gang fights, take drugs . . .”

  “Wait a minute. Why don’t we know about this? Why hasn’t it been in the news?”

  Cass shrugged.

  “Ask her. I don’t know why, but don’t you think someone is crying over those kids, too? She is.”

  “Who are we talking about?”

  Cass stopped herself. She had been running her mouth, excited by her emotions, and didn’t stop to think that maybe Nika didn’t want her personal family information shared.

  “I have to ask her if she wants to talk to you. It’s her story to tell, not mine.”

  The woman nodded thoughtfully and looked out the window. It had started to rain, and fat drops of water fell slowly onto the glass, sliding in divergent paths to drip off the edge at the bottom.

  “We could do something good with this, this tragedy. I know it sounds hokey . . .”

  She stopped and sighed before looking back at Cass.

  “No matter what, people are going to talk. We can tell them the truth, warn them. If they don’t listen, that’s their problem. But if it helps someone, well . . .”

  “Kayla would have wanted that,” Cass interrupted. “It’s like one of those awful teen books where all this bad stuff happens, then something good comes out of it.”

  “Are you a big reader?”

  Cass shook her head.

  “Not really. Sometimes I find something good, but I’m too picky. Sarah likes to read, and Kayla used to read a lot.”

  “Used to?”

  Cass stood up and walked over to the computers. She ran her fingers over one of the keyboards.

  “Her knee, it distracted her. I mean, the pain. It wouldn’t stop, and she couldn’t concentrate to read much. She was worried about being able to study when school started.”

  She picked up one of the black markers and pulled off the cap.

  “No one would listen, though. The doctors said her knee should have been better, and the physical therapist said the same thing. She was supposed to be back at practice, and the coach and her parents were hassling her about it.”

  She drew raindrops in the palm of her left hand, tiny ones and large ones, round ones, and long, oval ones, as she spoke.

  “We spent the night at each other’s houses a lot, the three of us. Since we were kids. The past few months she cried in her sleep, but said she didn’t remember the next morning.”

  Her palm was full of black shapes now. She closed her fingers over it and squeezed. When she opened her hand again, the black lines has smeared into a messy blur.

  “I don’t think she was actually sleeping.”

  She snapped the cap back onto the marker and returned it to the table, feeling the teacher’s gaze on her as she stood still and silent. The woman cleared her throat.

  “I’ll write that pass for you. Let me know what you think after you speak with Sarah and anyone else you feel you need to talk to. And please, ask your friend about her cousin. I think her story is important, even if she believes others don’t.”

  She stood and walked to her desk, picking up a pad of paper that was printed with the basics of hall pass details. She scribbled on it quickly, tore off the page, and handed it out towards Cass.

  “Come see me any time, Cassidy. Sarah and Danny, too.”

  Cass nodded warily, concerned that she had said too much. What if this woman told someone else what she had said about Nika? Was there a way they could find out it was her, and her family? She didn’t care if anyone knew what she thought about Kayla’s parents and coach, about how they ignored Kay and her pain as if she was only imagining it.

  Paul had been concerned about it, too, so between the three of them, they all knew Kay was hurting, but they hadn’t done anything either. A part of her wondered what they could have done, since no one would listen to Kay herself, but maybe if they had talked to someone who would pay attention, maybe Sarah’s dad, or this teacher who she didn’t even know until now, or one of the coaches.

  Maybe.

  Maybe didn’t matter now, and it wouldn’t bring Kayla back. It could make her feel worse, though, and Cass did. She took the paper from the teacher’s fingers and left the room without saying anything more.

  Sarah knew that something was wrong when Cass grabbed her arm when they met in the open doorway of the cafeteria.

  “I have to find someone,” Cass said quickly, and then she was gone. Sarah frowned and shook her head, unsure what was happening, when Danny suddenly appeared in front of her.

  “You okay? I mean, besides . . .” he trailed off.

  “I don’t know, I mean, Cass just walked off to find someone, and I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Danny watched her as she tried to follow Cass with her eyes. The room was huge and full of kids moving like a swarm of bees. He wondered if she could actually see Cass as Cass moved farther and farther away.

  “We could sit down, where you two usually sit, so she can find you when she’s, uh, finished?”

  He knew he sounded stupid, but he wasn’t sure what was going on either and just wanted to help Sarah if he could. She didn’t seem too worried, though, so maybe she didn’t mind standing here and waiting. She surprised him by taking his elbow and pulling him along with her as she followed Cass, or at least until they reached the table where they usually sat.

  He felt a pang of loss when she let go and sat down, but he walked around to the other side of table and sat across from her. Usually, or at least until Kayla had died, Sarah had been put together carefully, with her hair pinned back, sometimes in a ponytail, or held with those sliding pins all girls seemed to have on them. Lately her hair had taken to falling around her face like a curtain, loose strands she didn’t bother to tuck back and away.

  She seemed older somehow, a little more careless, and not just in her appearance. Obviously the fights had been a huge change in character, but maybe, he had been thinking, she was like that inside all along and just never felt the need to show it until now. He almost smiled at the memory of that morning, when she had been more furious than he had ever seen anyone in his life, with good reason he couldn’t fault.

  All these years he had longed to get close to that quiet, thoughtful girl, to find out what went on in that head of hers, and here she was becoming someone else, not completely, but enough for others to notice, and it didn’t change his desire to be with her one bit.