I’ve been looking for Cassie outside her chemistry class, but she’d already left. I turn the corner of the corridor and here she is, in front of her locker. I slow my pace. As much as I’m an open book to her, I don’t want to look too desperate and scare her off.
“Hey!” I say at the same time as she’s shutting her locker.
She jumps around, her hand on her chest. Great, I’ve scared her.
“Hey,” her voice is weak, her face closed. “You should be in practice.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been looking for you. Did you get my voicemail yesterday? I was waiting for you to call back.” And now my cell is tattooed over my right cheek because I fell asleep on it.
Cassie eyes the space on either side of me as if she wants to escape.
“Don’t do that again.” My words sound like a warning.
She blinks and I see her take a quick breath. “What am I doing?”
“The whole ‘cat and mouse’ circus. We don’t have time for that anymore.”
“Can you let me go? I’m late for practice too.”
I bar her way. “You’re kidding? You’re not going to practice.”
She tilts her head backwards so that she can stare at me straight in the eyes this time. “Why not? I’m still a cheerleader.”
“Because you’re…” I stop before shouting the next word. I scrape my hand through my hair to get myself back under control. When I speak again, it’s a really low whisper. “Because you’re pregnant.”
“Thanks for reminding me. I’d forgotten since this morning, when I spent half an hour worshipping the ceramic throne in my bathroom.”
“You’re sick?” I wish I could have been there. I hate it when guys puke their guts out because they’re shitfaced, but that’s different. My shoulders slump. I feel powerless.
“Lucky me. Five weeks in, and I’m already emptying my stomach regularly.” She shakes her head. “They shouldn’t call it ‘morning sickness,’ but ‘all-day-all-night sickness.’”
I extend my arm so that I can support myself against her locker. I want to make sure she gets what I’m about to say.
“So why are you still going to practice if you feel that shitty?”
“Because I want to keep my life as normal as possible. Until I can’t anymore.”
Without warning, Cass wriggles past me, picks her bag up from by her feet and starts strutting towards the nearest exit. I hurry after her, but I keep my mouth shut because the corridor is crowded. Even outside, I wait until we’re some distance from the school building before I open my mouth again.
“Our life will never be normal again. You’d better get used to it.”
Cassie grabs my forearm and pulls me to face her. “So why are you going to practice as if nothing has changed in your life?”
Because I’m not the one carrying a baby, I want to shout. But then, I start using my brain. The sensitive part of it.
“You’re right. But the only thing I can think about is you…” I step forward and my hand brushes her stomach. “… and our baby.”
Cassie recoils and slaps my hand away from her.
“Too easy.” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t sugar-coat me, Champ. You think about it, but I live with it. I’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”
“And you don’t want to.” When I say those words, my heart gets heavier in my chest. “The other night, we’d agreed to do the right thing.”
“But what’s the right thing for the baby? Tell me, Josh. Some teenaged parents without a cent to their names? There’s no such thing as the right thing anyway. It’s difficult for someone like you to understand. In life, you don’t do the right thing, you just get by.”
“Not me. Not us.” I’ve no idea where I get the confidence from. “When it’s about you, ‘getting by’ will never be enough.” She tilts her head to the sky and lets out a deep sigh. I’m not letting her get away with it. “You’re scared, I get it. Believe me, I am too. But we have to stick together. You won’t be on your own like your mom was when she had you.”
Cass stumbles backwards. Yeah, I guessed right. I’ve just dug out the root of her fears.
“I’m going to take care of you, just like you’ve always taken care of me. It’s not going to be easy, but I won’t let you down.”
“MacBride, move your ass and let Cass get dressed with that skimpy skirt of hers. We’re late.” That’s Woodie, sprinting towards the field. Bad timing.
“Yeah, coming now.” I wave at him to tell him to keep going.
She readjusts her bag over her shoulder. “We should go.”
“Please let me carry this. At least, let me do that for you.”
She gives in and we head toward practice without another word. When we reach the changing rooms, I hand her back her bag. I lean forward and brush the tip of her nose with mine. I make sure I’m not crowding her. I have to curl my fists so that I don’t take her in my arms. I need to feel her against me. It’s been so long.
Cass is about to turn away but I’ve not said my last word. “Remember, you and I, we don’t just get by.”
sixteen
Oxford ~ Present.
Cassie.
“No way.” I dropped the case full of vodka bottles on the bar. “You hired me to wait tables. I’ll stick to that.”
“Come on, Kitten. Are you scared?” Sam leaned on the bar. I could have sworn the guy was pouting.
“First, don’t ‘Kitten’ me when we’re at work. Second, don’t provoke me. I won’t do it.” To prove my point, I turned my back on him and started putting away the bottles.
The Turf wasn’t yet full, but it would be soon. Big night tonight. The Libs were giving a one-off performance. Their van hadn’t arrived yet and they were running late. Well, not exactly running, since they sat around one of the pub’s tables. Well, not exactly sitting either, more like lounging… The perks of being rock stars.
“One song. You owe it to me. I got you a job and somewhere to crash while you’re here.” Sam sounded damned serious this time.
I stopped playing the busy bee and stole a glance over my shoulder. His eyes were still stuck on me. I’d known the guy for what? Less than a week and he could already push the right buttons. Cassandra O’Malley didn’t owe anything to anybody. I worked hard enough for the little I got. I let out a puff of air to show him he grated my nerves. Still, I stepped back towards the counter.
“The Libs are professionals.” I placed my crossed forearms over the bar, my skin almost touching his because I could also push his buttons. “That’s what people will be expecting tonight. Not some ex-wannabe Country singer.”
“I’ve heard you singing, Kitten. You ain’t no wannabe.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “No offense, but you don’t strike me as a guy who’s really into his music.”
“I’m into a lot of things.” Sam kept staring at me and I had to force myself to keep staring back.
“I haven’t really practiced for a while. I’m a bit rusty.”
Sam straightened and chuckled. “There’s nothing rusty in you.” He pivoted on the bar stool and jumped to his feet. “As your boss, I’m asking you to fill in while the guys settle in. You’ll be their warm-up act or something like that.” Then after one last glimpse at me, he added. “I’m sure, deep down, you’re real warm. Be ready in thirty minutes.”
I bit my tongue. I still needed the job. How long it’d take Josh to figure out what the right thing was, I didn’t know. After our chat this afternoon, I prepared myself to delay again my return to the U.S. In the meantime, I’d have to climb on stage. For one song only.
I circled round the bar and stood in front of the wide open pub door that led into the yard. A whiff of mild air brushed my skin. Tonight was the first time the weather was properly springy.
Hmm, the stage wasn’t that big. And it would only be one song. I hadn’t performed live since the small gig in the summer before my senior year. The memory still made my heart bang against my chest. I’d been
so happy.
I felt my mouth twitch. I could do it again.
Or I could totally fail.
“Cassie?”
I jumped around and faced the direction the voice was coming from with my hand over my chest. A short guy with stubble looked at me with a frown. Great, it was one of the members of The Libs. I’d seen him shaking hands with Sam.
“That’s me,” I mumbled, and extended my hand, which he shook.
“Shawn.”
I managed a smile and he returned it. “Sam told me you could do the warm-up. Apparently, you’re a jewel waiting to be discovered.” I gasped and he added, “His words, and I’ve known the guy for a long time, so I trust him.”
As always when it mattered, I didn’t find anything smart-ass to say.
He gestured towards the yard and the small stage. “Do you want me to show you around? We’re still waiting for the van and most of the equipment for the gig, but Sam said you’ll only need a guitar.”
I nodded and followed him outside. He held a bottle of beer in one hand and nothing in him showed any signs of stage fright. Note to self: knock down a few shots of bourbon… like now. In the meantime, I had to hide my internal “freak-out” barometer, which was about to explode. I listened when Shawn showed me around the few pieces of equipment I’d be using. I played a few chords on the guitar to make sure it was tuned and checked that the microphone was working.
When I was finished, I came back to my “day” job, serving beers. And my help was much needed as the place was now packed. I kept stealing glances at the row of bourbon bottles on the shelf behind me, but with Sam next to me, and half of Oxford on the other side of the bar, I couldn’t indulge.
“Kitten, it’s time to go.” I opened and closed my mouth. “I’m in charge here, and I want you in charge there.” Sam pointed to the yard and the stage outside.
I let out a heavy breath, untied my apron, and tucked one of my curls behind my ear, while biting my lower lip.
“You look hot, Cassandra. And I know you’re going to rock this place.”
At any other time, I’d have blushed hard when a guy like Sam paid me the “hot” compliment. But, right then, there was no place in me for anything but fear. Still I nodded because I had some pride left and walked like a robot through the mass of people drinking outside. I climbed the two steps leading to the temporary stage.
This time, the lights were on and I squinted. The temperature had dropped a few degrees and goose bumps broke out on my bare forearms. At the same time, my hands and face grew clammy.
Then a breeze undid the same rebellious curl of hair. My skin came to life, even the parts covered by my tight T-shirt and jeans. I looked for the guitar Shawn had put aside for me. It leaned against one of the old city walls that surrounded the Turf courtyard and the stage. I grabbed the guitar and slung the strap across my shoulders. When I turned to face the crowd again, Shawn had joined me on stage, all upbeat and smiling. Good for him.
I swallowed hard.
He hugged the microphone as if it were a groupie begging for a kiss and called for the crowd’s attention, while strutting around the micro-stage. I swear the guy thought he was at Times Square on New Year’s Eve. As soon as he moved, the noise level died down. Shawn filled the near silence welcoming everyone. Followed the usual “It’s so good to be here” and “Ready for an awesome night.”
My eyes adjusted to the lighting and I could now look back at the audience. There wasn’t an inch unoccupied. Still some newcomers made their way from the alleyway leading back to the city.
I had to get into the zone. I tuned out Shawn’s intro to work on my breathing, when my eyes looked for a blank spot on the side of the stage. On the right, three people struggled to find a space to stand. My fingers tightened around the neck of the guitar.
Josh. Freddie. And between the two, Eleanor.
When Eleanor saw me, her mouth shaped into an “Oh” and she pointed at me with one hand while the other pulled at Josh. She waved at me, but I stopped looking at her. As always, all my senses tuned in to Josh.
And he tuned in to me. It was as if a bridge had appeared between the two of us, over the bystanders, over Eleanor. Josh was under a spotlight. Wherever he went, he was always engulfed in light.
My name echoed around me. A wave of applause followed. Shawn seized my hand and dragged me back towards the front of the stage. He fitted the microphone back onto its stand and helped me sit on a high stool. He adjusted the height of the microphone.
“So guys, Cassie here hasn’t just a killer bod’…” People whistled and cheered, but I kept staring at Josh. “Apparently she also has the voice of an angel. So give her all the support you can.”
They clapped and cheered even more loudly when, out of the blue, Shawn’s mouth landed on mine. The kiss lasted a couple of seconds, no more, but it tore me away from Josh. The shock managed to stop my hands from shaking too. Shawn winked at me then turned away.
I was left alone under the blinding lights so I shut my eyes. I had to forget, to pretend. I was back home in my bedroom. On my bed, with the sash-window half-open, the sunset over the barn, over the fields. Josh at my feet, listening to me, only me. I’d sing about home again, like I had for Sam.
My fingers brushed the strings of the guitar and, as always, the contact was a caress to my senses. I’d sung and played acoustic guitar for so long that the plugged-in sound of my voice and the instrument startled me. But soon, I was back in the groove.
My eyes got used to the lights again, flickered across the ocean of people watching me. It felt more equal now. They saw me. I saw them. There was the background of glasses clinking but not much else.
Back to the place where I grew up
Where you and I fell in love…
I went through the lyrics, one verse at a time, and some of the pain I’d stored inside since the day Gran had died softened. Each time I got back to the chorus, there was another mile between that day and me.
Then, I saw Josh again. I saw him. Not clean-cut, Ivy League Josh I’d met at Oxford. But my Joshua, my best friend, the brother I never had, the only boy I ever loved. When my mouth opened again, I sang for him and for him only. And he knew that every word, every chord I played, was for him. I didn’t want that bond to break ever again.
But the song had to end. I wanted to keep my new reality alive inside me, so I lowered my gaze after the last note. Silence stretched between the walls of the courtyard, then broke into applause. The noise filled me and switched back on the light inside me I’d forgotten about. I let my head fall back in relief, then put my feet back on the floor, hoping my knees wouldn’t buckle.
I’d done it without making a fool of myself.
Now I could crash back to Planet Earth. But they—the crowd—wanted more. They whistled, they clapped, they shouted. At the back, Shawn was circling his arm above his head to keep me going.
By reflex, I searched for Josh. When I found him again, I flinched. Eleanor was cradling his jaw with her hands. She was tall, but not tall enough, for their mouths to touch without Josh having to bend over. The angle was all awkward but they were kissing. Smooching. Snogging. Sucking faces.
My butt flopped back onto the stool, my guitar flat against my tummy. I felt sick. I felt confused. The room spun, my anger was deafening. Everything around me became empty blank space.
“Okay guys.” I sounded now like Shawn earlier. “This one is a song about a boy who means a lot to me. His name is Lucas. I hope I can see him again soon.”
My fingers attacked the chords. I had no time, no need for a caress. I hadn’t practiced this song for a century, but I was so pissed off that I unearthed the lyrics anyway. There was fire in my voice when I sang the first words. It didn’t fit the song but it had its effect. It was about that boy named Lucas who had the cutest dimples. He dreamt of his mother sometimes. She had long blond hair but he didn’t know her name. He liked playing ball with his Daddy, but he didn’t know his name either. And Lucas wan
ted to know.
Only when the song came to an end did I risk another look in Josh’s direction. There was some drama there with him breaking away from Eleanor, pushing Freddie aside, and rushing back up the alley. When he passed to the side of the stage, his eyes met mine. They were all stormy, full of thunder, but there was rain in them too. There was pain. Some of Lucas’s pain?
I wanted to go after Josh, but Eleanor was already close behind him. And the crowd was applauding even louder than for the first song. I saw Shawn doing his “copter” gesture again, so I sat and prepared myself to perform again.
Shame washed over me.
seventeen
Later that night, I sat on the worn-out sofa in the living room of my temporary home. My shift was supposed to have ended at midnight, but there was so much tidying up after the gig, that I’d stayed until the clock reached two. Sam gave me a lift. He owned a bike. I hated bikes—bad memories with them—but I was so beat that I accepted the helmet anyway.
The shower was running upstairs for Sam. I should have one too. Anything to get rid of the dirt. To chase the bad taste in my mouth, I gulped down half a can of beer. When done, I swept my mouth over my shoulder and waited for the buzz of alcohol to soften the pain inside. The relief didn’t come. For a lightweight like me, I’d grown some resistance to booze. I had to try something stronger. Maybe Sam had some vodka stashed away somewhere in the house. I’d end up over the toilet bowl, but I was ready to risk even that to forget the night and my smart choice for the second song.
Water had stopped, making the pipes squeak, then steps thumped down the stairs. It had to be Sam. Lola wasn’t back yet. I expected him to go into the living room. Instead, I heard the door of the fridge creak open and the steps finally head into the living room.
Sam came in and crashed into the armchair opposite the sofa. He wore a dark T-shirt and track pants. His hair was damp. Most girls would be fanning themselves next to that level of alpha-maleness. All I could do was fake a smile and stare back down at the tip of my bottle.
“A fresh one? I bet you’ve been nursing the same beer for the last half an hour.” He leaned forward to hand me a new bottle.
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