by Megan Linski
“You’re going into shock.” Cairo slips off his letter jacket and drapes it around my shoulders, pulling it tightly around me like a blanket. He wraps his arms around me again, pulling me to his chest. “Just try to breathe. You’re gonna be fine.”
“It’s cold out.” What a stupid objection. I nearly died and all I can think about is Cairo’s comfort.
“I’ll be fine.” Cairo is glaring at Thames. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience. Stay calm so you can process what happened.”
It’s like Cairo’s reading a from a paramedic manual. I feel like he doesn’t know what to do, though, either. He’s shaking as much as I am.
“How did you catch me?” I ask. I stumble through the words. “I… I fell off the bike, and you were there.”
“You’re not thinking straight, Cassia,” Cairo tells me calmly. “Nobody caught you. I was driving by, and I saw the accident. I got here just as you woke up.”
“No!” I stand up. The letterman jacket slips off my shoulders and plops on the ground. “That’s bullshit! I know you caught me! There’s no possible way I could’ve lived!”
“Cassia, listen to what you’re saying right now,” Cairo says in a calm voice. “How could I have caught you? I wasn’t here when you were driving by, and even if I was, I’d have to be Superman or something to be fast enough to catch you before you hit the pavement. Be happy you got lucky.”
I know what Cairo’s saying technically makes sense. But at the same time, it doesn’t. First the invisible attack in the forest, then the glowing light, and now this? I’d be convinced I’m losing my mind, but this isn’t right. I’m not under that much stress to imagine all of this.
I can’t help it. Tears start dripping down my face. Cairo stoops down and picks up the letterman jacket, placing it back on my shoulders. He draws me close once again as he says, “Damn you, Thames. You should know better.”
Thames keeps his distance. “She was safe with me,” he says in a low voice.
“Obviously not! I’ve told you that you need to watch your turns!” Cairo bellows.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Thames mutters.
“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so careless,” Cairo bites back. Cairo starts guiding me toward his truck, and that’s when Thames plants himself firmly in front of us.
“What are you doing with her?” Thames eyes flash with something scary. I’d call it jealously, but that’s not what it is. It’s almost like he’s frightened for me.
“She needs to go to the hospital!” Cairo barks. “Can’t you see that? Thames, just move out of the way!”
“Thames should go, too,” I say, subbing in quietly.
“He’ll be fine,” Cairo says callously, and I’m taken aback by his attitude. Does he really hate Thames so much that he doesn’t care if he’s seriously hurt?
“Yeah, nothing’s wrong with me,” Thames says quickly, before adding, “But why should you be the one to take her?”
“You need to stay here and clean up this mess,” Cairo snarls. He kicks a rouge bike part aside, and Thames flinches as it titters away.
For a second, I think that the boys are going to start a fist fight right here in the road. Thames’ hands are bunched into fists, and Cairo’s grip is firmer on me than before.
Then Thames turns away. “Whatever.” He glances at me. “Stay safe, Cass.”
I nod. Cairo opens the truck door for me, and then literally picks me up and sets me inside like some little kid. He puts it in drive, and Thames disappears as we round the corner.
I really don’t want to ride into anything mechanized after what I just went through, but I don’t have much of a choice. I pull the letter jacket around me and bury myself in it.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” I tell Cairo. “I’m fine.”
“You could have internal bleeding. You’re not thinking clearly right now.” Cairo drives much more carefully than Thames. He takes every turn almost methodically, like an old man.
“Seriously, it’s okay,” I argue. I can feel my blood start to boil. Calm down, calm down.
“Cassia, you’re going.”
“No, Cairo! I don’t want to go!” I shout. I kick the dash in a spout of rage.
Cairo frowns. I instantly feel guilty.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “But if I go to the hospital, social services will know, and my foster mom will get in trouble. I don’t want that to happen. I just got here.”
“You’re a foster kid?” Cairo’s eyes soften.
“Yeah. So can you please just drop it?”
Cairo hesitates. Then he says, “Okay. I’ll drop it.”
The question that’s burning on the tip of my tongue slips off. “How could you just leave Thames like that?” I ask.
Cairo rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he says. No longer furious, he’s turned quiet, soft. Gentle, like before, and not scary. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper at him. I was just scared for you.”
“Why? We’ve just met,” I say.
“Does it matter? You’re a human being, aren’t you?”
He looks at me, and I don’t respond. Cairo shakes his head. “Look, I’m sure you’ve already heard that Thames and I have a complicated history, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about him. If I thought he was hurt in any way, I wouldn’t have left him out there.”
That’s news. Thames made it sound like he and Cairo were bitter enemies. Maybe they were former buddies who had a fallout. Men, I guess.
The trees whiz by the window, just like they did on the bike, but not as fast. My mind is still whirling. It never stopped spinning after I was thrown off the bike. I shouldn’t have survived that crash. Not unless I have some sort of guardian angel.
“Are you going to tell me what really happened?” I ask. I keep my gaze focused on the window, but I can still see Cairo’s reflection. It freezes.
Silence. Then, “Probably not.”
“Why?” I turn, to look at him. “This isn’t right. You saved me. I know you did. I deserve to know the truth.”
Cairo looks guilty. “I know you do. But you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “After what I’ve seen the past few days? Try me.”
He doesn’t ask what exactly I’ve seen, which only heightens my curiosity. And my suspicions. Cairo rubs his face and says, “Just… try to convince yourself that you fell off, and weren’t hurt, okay? It’s the easiest thing for you to believe.”
I make a sarcastic noise. “Fine.”
We drive in silence. Cairo takes a left turn, in the opposite direction of Isolde’s house.
“This isn’t the way back to my place,” I tell him. “I don’t live in town.”
“I’m not taking you back home, not until I know you’re okay,” he says. “You’re going to eat something first.”
“So bossy.” I’m surprised to find that my stomach is empty, and ravenous. I am starving. “But I don’t have any money.”
“I’ll pay. Don’t worry about it.”
“Does that make it a date?” I smirk.
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he responds. “You’re the one who lived through a near-death experience.”
“My clothes are kind of a mess,” I say, looking at my tattered rags. I’ve still got dirt on me from the crash.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re with me.”
“So cocky.” I shake my head, but Cairo only smirks.
Cairo pulls into the parking lot of a small restaurant on the corner of town. He opens my door. I try to refuse him from helping me out, but he takes his arm and wraps it around my waist, lifting me out of the truck with one arm. He acts like I weigh no more than a feather. It’s like this guy benchpresses houses in his spare time.
“I can get out by myself, you know,” I say. What is this guy, Hercules? Or is he just trying to impress me?
“Not the point. I’m just checking,” h
e says. We head inside, where Cairo immediately goes to a corner table that I’m pretty sure is designated as his. Star quarterback perks.
Just like I guessed a waitress is at our table in seconds, carrying a Coke. She sets it in front of Cairo and pointedly ignores me, batting her eyelashes at him. “How are you doing, Cairo? I haven’t seen you around much lately.”
“Busy with football practice. I’ve been catching meals when I can,” he says. Cairo glances at me, and says, “Betty, would you get Cassia here something to drink?”
Betty’s eyes languish on me. I can tell she hates that I’m wearing his letter jacket. “What do you want, darling?”
“Um, a Coke,” I say. Betty totters away, obviously not pleased.
I look at the menu and find that it’s filled with Northern Michigan fare. Whitefish, lots of gravy, and not a vegetable in sight.
“Having trouble figuring what you want?” Cairo asks.
“I’ve eaten way too many hamburgers and sandwiches in my life,” I say, realizing how impossibly true that is. “Today made me realize that I need to get out of my comfort zone. Try new stuff more.”
“Get the pasty,” Cairo says. “You’ll like it, trust me.”
I’ve never eaten a pasty in my life, but I’ll take his word for it. Betty slams the Coke down in front of me, and a little bit spills on the table. “What do you want?”
“Um… I’ll have the pasty,” I say, winging it.
“Same.” Cairo says. I hand Betty the menus, and she whips them out of my hands. I make a face at Cairo when she turns her back.
“Don’t mind Betty,” he says. “She’s usually nice, but she gets jealous if I bring any girls with me. If I’m by myself or with my buddies she’ll talk to me the entire time I’m here.”
“I thought you didn’t talk to girls. Least, that’s what I hear around school.” I take a sip of my Coke.
“I don’t hang with any girls inside school,” he informs me. “I have friends who are girls outside of Heaven High.”
“Are the girls outside better than those that go to school with us?” I ask, baffled.
He laughs. “Nothing like that. I just have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. I’d rather not burden any girls at school with it by dating them.”
Is he talking about the other girls getting jealous because he’s the star quarterback? If he is, what an ego. He notices the look on my face and quickly adds, “I’ve just known the girls I hang out with for years. Since I was a toddler. There’s no pressure there because we’re all like family.”
“Okay.” Doesn’t make much sense to me. All I can gather is he doesn’t like to get close to girls he doesn’t know. But if that’s true, why am I here? Does he feel obligated to take care of me or something, after what happened? My original suspicion that he doesn’t want to get hurt intensifies.
Cairo’s drank nearly half his Coke already. He sets it down, and says, “So how’d you end up in Heaven? It’s a weird place to be.”
“I came from Ann Arbor. My last foster family didn’t work out,” I say, a severe understatement. “I told the social worker I wanted to try somewhere new.”
“You live with Isolde, right? She works up at the hospital. My mom knows her,” Cairo says. “You like it there?”
“She’s okay. I don’t know her that well yet.” She’s probably pretty pissed that I didn’t show up for dinner. I bet my phone has at least ten messages right now.
Cairo’s phone rings. He glances at it, and turns it off. “It’s not important,” he says when I look at him curiously. “If I didn’t need a phone, I wouldn’t have one. I hate people texting me all day.”
“Really? Most people I know can’t get off their phones.” I shake my head. “I don’t like them either. If Isolde hadn’t given one to me I wouldn’t mind going without.”
“There are three things that matter to me.” Cairo holds up three fingers. “Football, lacrosse, and work. Everything else is extra stuff.”
“Where do you work?” I ask, curious.
“I’m going into law enforcement,” he says. “It’s kind of the family business. I’m basically an intern right now, but I’ll be sworn in once I leave school.”
I don’t have great experiences with cops, but I can’t help but think Cairo would be a cute one. Getting pulled over would almost be worth it. “Can’t be too much criminal activity to deal with up here besides the rogue wolf or bear,” I say, giggling.
He laughs. “You’d be surprised. What do you want to do once you graduate?”
I hesitate. I’ve never told anyone about my plans after high school, because I’m afraid people would think they’re stupid. That’s not about to change, not even with Cairo.
“I’m still deciding,” I lie. I play with my straw and avoid the question.
Cairo doesn’t press. Betty drops off the pastys. I observe mine. It’s a flaky, buttery pie, folded in half and baked. I cut into mine and see that the inside is stuffed with ground beef, topped with diced potatoes and sauerkraut. I take a bite, and it absolutely melts in my mouth. It’s one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten.
When I start wolfing it down, Cairo laughs. “See? Told you that you’d like it.”
“You did.” The pasty’s nearly halfway gone. I really was hungry. I almost want to order another one, but I’m eating on Cairo’s dime, so I don’t.
“We’ll make a Northerner out of you yet,” he says. “Even Trolls have a little bit of Yooper blood in them.”
“I’m not really a Troll,” I say, referring to the word Yoopers, Upper Michiganders, use when talking about people who live in the Lower Peninsula. “I was born in Houston.”
“Texas?” His fork pauses. “That’s a long way from the U.P. How’d you get cross country?”
I put another bite in my mouth, to give me time to think up an answer. “My mom moved to Michigan after I was born.”
“Was it to be with your dad or something?” Cairo wipes his mouth.
“My dad wasn’t around. I’ve actually never met him. It was just me and her. I was put in the foster care system here in the state after she died.” My voice has become incredibly hollow.
“I’m sorry,” Cairo says softly. “That must’ve been hard.”
“It was. She died in a fire. I was five.”
I quickly change the subject, because I haven’t talked about my mom in years to anyone and I don’t want to start now. “Thames told me he lived on his own. Is that unusual?”
Cairo nods. “Yeah, it is. He gets by working the logging factory at night.”
“Were you friends?”
“You could say that. We used to be close.” He twirls his fork. “I told him not to move out on his own, but he doesn’t listen. Stubborn.”
“Is that why you guys don’t talk anymore?” I ask.
“That, and other things. He isn’t very cautious, and as you saw, he doesn’t like being told what to do.” Cairo stabs his pasty with his knife. It makes a clink on the plate. “He thinks I’m too careful, and too bossy. We just have very different opinions.”
“It wasn’t his fault what happened today,” I say, finishing up the pasty. Darn. No more.
“Yes, it was.” Cairo puts down his fork and grabs my hand. I’m too shocked to recoil. “He didn’t mean to hurt you, but he could’ve, Cassia. I know you guys are friends, but you need to be careful around him, okay? He’s reckless.”
“Thames isn’t reckless.” I force myself to draw my hand away, under the table.
“He is. Once you’ve been around him long enough, you’ll see that. Trust me. I know him.”
I glance away, unwilling to look him in the eye. I can see why the two boys don’t get along. Cairo has a very strong opinion on things. Thames seems to be more willing to go with the flow. No wonder they’re no longer friends; I bet Cairo was used to telling Thames off, and he just got tired of it.
Maybe Cairo is right about Thames. I don’t really know him that well. But I’m not
about to abandon my only friend just because he told me to.
Cairo’s frown turns into a smile as he changes the subject. “I see you’re wearing the owl sweater,” he says. “You’re lucky it didn’t get too torn up from the crash. Just a little dirty.”
“Thank you for buying it for me. And don’t say you didn’t,” I say as he opens his mouth. “I know it was you.”
He smirks. “Well, I couldn’t refuse after seeing the look on your face.”
I roll my eyes, but the sides of my mouth turn upward. “You’re such a sweetheart.”
Betty comes by. Cairo takes out his wallet, but she tells him, “You know your money’s no good here, Cai. Bob won’t take it after the run you made at last week’s game. You saved us from an embarrassing loss.”
I hate that she calls him Cai. It doesn’t suit him at all. But Cairo smiles even bigger and says, “It’s fine, Betty.” He puts a twenty on the table. “At least take it for your tip. And thanks.”
Betty’s obnoxious grin returns. Does this kid lead some kind of charmed life? Is everyone in town under his spell? Cairo gets up, and I follow. He drives me back home, but he goes even slower this time. It’s like he doesn’t want to drop me off.
I figure I’m just going to hop out, but to my surprise he literally walks me to the door, like it’s the 1950’s or something. It’s bizarre. I go to hand him back his letter jacket, but he doesn’t take it.
“You keep it,” he tells me. “You need it more than me.”
Cairo reaches up and brushes back a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of my eyes. He pops a quirky grin, and his eyes gleam. For a second, I think he’s about to kiss me.
Then, before I even know what’s going on, he turns on his heel, puts his hands in his pockets, and saunters back to his truck. He vanishes like a ghost, driving away into the mist.
“Where have you been?” Isolde is at the door before I’ve barely graced the mat. “I’ve been calling your phone for hours! Where were you?”
Her hands are planted on her hips. Her hair is ragged, like she’s been pulling it out, and her nurse uniform is wrinkled.