by Jo Cassidy
"Get used to it," I said. "No one is ever allowed to use the C word again."
Jenna giggled. "Never." She linked her arm with Dalton's and wiggled her eyebrows at me. I so missed her.
"How are your guitar skills coming along?" Dalton asked.
I widened my eyes. "Oh! I have a surprise of my own!" I held up a finger. "Hold on." I rushed to the side of my bed and pulled out my new acoustic guitar from its case. My initials were engraved on the black strap. I brought it back and flashed it in front of the camera.
Jenna gasped. "No. Freaking. Way!"
"Dad got it for me," I said, sitting down in my chair. I placed the guitar in my lap. "A present for not doing anything to embarrass myself at school for two whole weeks."
Both Dalton and Jenna laughed.
"That's quite the accomplishment," Dalton said.
"Right?" I stared down at the guitar. "I wrote a song."
"Play it for us!" Jenna said, bouncing in her seat.
I strummed a few notes. "It's for Brendon. I'm not sure if I should play it for him first, or practice in front of you so you can tell me if it's stupid or not."
"It's not stupid." Renee stepped into the room. Her long, dark hair hung around her shoulders. "It's a beautiful song." She sat down on the bed and smiled at me, reaching all the way to her brown eyes. "Play it for me and your friends."
"Yes!" Jenna said. "Play it for us!"
I was still getting used to playing and singing in front of people. Dad and Renee let me play for them all the time. Ella requested a song every night before she went to bed. It was our new ritual. But I still felt so exposed.
"I don't know," I said, holding my palm against the strings.
Renee gently touched my arm. "Come on, sweetie. You're so talented. Besides, you have to practice for when Brendon and the others come to visit during the summer."
"What?" Jenna's jaw dropped.
Dad shuffled into the room holding a sleeping Liam in one arm and licorice in the other. "You weren't supposed to tell her without me."
Renee waved her hand at him. "You're right there." She raised her eyebrows. "Where did you find those?"
Dad waved the licorice. "I know all your hiding spots."
"They're really coming to visit?" I set the guitar down on my bed.
Dad grinned, handing me some licorice. "We finalized everything last night with Jenna, Dalton, and Brendon's parents."
Every squeal out of Jenna's mouth before that moment paled in comparison. I didn't know it was possible for her to reach that level. Dalton pressed his hands over his ears. Even little Liam stirred in his sleep.
"Shh!" I held my finger to my lips.
"Sorry," Jenna whispered. She silently clapped her hands. "I'm so excited! I've never been to Utah. Can we go to the mountains?"
Dad leaned down so he could look in the camera. "Already planning a camping trip. Hiking, fishing, and s'mores around the campfire."
"No bears, right?" Dalton asked, panic in his eyes.
Dad shrugged. "Probably not." He smiled when Dalton's eyes widened.
I hopped out of my chair and kissed Dad on the cheek. I would have hugged him if he weren't holding Liam. Then I gave Renee a huge hug. "Thank you."
Renee rubbed my back. It was nice to not have it hurt when someone did that. "Of course. I can't wait to finally meet them all in person." She handed me my guitar. "Please play the song for us."
I settled back into my chair, took a deep breath, and played the song I'd written for Brendon titled New Dawn. Through my dark and scary world, Brendon had been a bright light that had steered me toward a new dawn. He showed me that I could thrive in a world without fears and demons and that I could be safe to live.
Later that night, I pulled out my journal and wrote my daily events. Only the happy, positive things. I wanted to focus on the good in my life.
Everything had changed so dramatically for me in the best way possible. I had a life. A family. A mom and dad that loved and cared for me. A little brother and sister. A chance at a life of my own. A future where I got to choose my path. Freedom to be whoever I wanted. I could explore my love of music and drawing without any hesitation or worry. Openly expressing myself through a creative outlet was a newfound passion. One I didn't have to hide.
I had real friends. Friends who cared about me and my wellbeing. Friends who stuck by my side.
The best part of it all?
Fear of being controlled was no longer a part of my life.
It will always have a small part, Noah said.
I huffed. "Says you. I have conquered my fears."
Of course you have, Sally said. Noah doesn't give you enough credit.
"I'm not sure I like the fact that you two know about each other." I set my pen and journal on the nightstand and turned off the light.
You need us both, Sally said. We balance each other out.
Noah scoffed. Please, she'd do just fine with only me.
"Both of you quiet. I need rest tonight." I pulled Noah out from his hiding spot behind my pillows.
Sleep well, Cora, dear, Sally said. She hummed a favorite lullaby of mine.
I braided my hair, tucked it over my right shoulder, wrapped my arms around Noah, and drifted off to sleep.
THE END
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Acknowledgments
For the longest time, I never thought I’d find a home for Cora and her story. As weird as it may seem, I loved writing this book and seeing the characters come to life. I wanted to share it with the world, but wasn’t sure I could find a publisher who loved it as much as I did.
I believe fate/destiny brought me to Monster Ivy Publishing. They came into my life at the perfect time and from the second I read their website, I knew I’d finally found my people and a home for Cora. Thankfully, they loved my story from the beginning and truly understood my characters and the story.
Mary Gray, working with you has been a dream come true. You shaped Good Girls Stay Quiet into a gripping novel and helped me reach deeper inside myself than I thought was possible. I get all little girl giggly when I think about what a perfect match you’ve been to my soul. This book wouldn’t be where it is today if it weren’t for you, so thank you!
Cammie Larsen, thanks for making such a breathtaking cover. It’s gripping, perfect, everything I hoped for and more. You’re awesome to work with and I struck the lottery with you!
To Casey Cheney, thank you for championing this book from the beginning. The Lord truly brought you into my life to share in the many different journeys and paths we’ve been down. You’re my sister from another mister (sometimes it’s freaky how much we have in common) and I love you more than words can say.
Thank you, Cindy Dorminy, for always being a sounding board and cheering me on. You helped find the plot holes in GGSQ, and I’ll forever be grateful for that! I love that writing has brought us together.
Douglas. My true love. You’re my heart and soul, and I couldn’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else. You’re the Brendon to my Cora, the Eric to my Emme, the Coach to my Tammy, the Harvey to my Donna, and the Lan to my Nynaeve. Thanks for being my biggest fan and making sure I never give up. I wouldn’t be here without you.
Dad, thank you so much for not being a creep. You’re a great father and an even better man. You showed me how to work hard for what I want and I love you for that.
Lastly, to Dr Pepper, for being the best writing companion a girl could ask for.
Discussion Questions
1. Perfection in dress, speech, food, and manners were a big part of Daddy and Cora’s relationship. How would you have behaved in Cora’s circumstance?
* * *
2. Noah and Sally represent different sides of Cora’s inn
er psyche. Noah was Cora’s painfully truthful side, while Sally was Cora’s logical side. Why do you think Cora projected these different sides of herself?
* * *
3. Cora has a distinctively young yet charming voice, with phrases like “me and Daddy” and “thank the stars.” What does this tell you about who she is? What other phrases did you notice?
* * *
4. Cora uses writing and drawing as her emotional outlets. What are your outlets?
* * *
5. Brendon worried about Cora, but he also didn’t want to risk losing her in his life. How do you think he handled what he knew about Cora and her father’s relationship?
* * *
6. Cora’s father (aka “Daddy”) was both physically and emotionally abusive, yet he said he punished Cora out of love. While Cora should have told the truth about her situation sooner, why do you think she kept their secret for so long?
* * *
7. Do you think Cora will fully heal from what Daddy did to her? Why or why not?
About the Author
Jo Cassidy grew up in sunny Southern California but now lives in snowy Northern Utah with her husband and their crazy cat. She loves all things creepy – Bates Motel, Stranger Things, and Criminal Minds are a few of her favorite shows. She believes Stalker was canceled way too early and would love to see it come back. You can subscribe to her newsletter at www.authorjocassidy.com.
Also by Jo Cassidy
When seventeen-year-old Tessa uses séances to contact her brother and mom, renegade spirits slip through the gateway, taking over her mind and town.
Willow Marsh
Chapter 1
I’d been trying to contact my mom ever since the night of the crash, but it’s difficult to speak to the dead. None of my séances worked. Amá always told me to never give up, so I kept trying, knowing the sound of her voice could solve my worries.
Like most backyards in Willow Marsh, the woods lay behind the property line, filled with thick birch and willow trees. The frosty air pricked at my skin as I stared up at the dark clouds. If it was this cold during the day, I didn’t want to imagine what it was like at night. I ducked between a couple trees, wishing I had a jacket. I didn't want to risk sneaking back to get it, though. Dad could come back any minute.
A small clearing opened among the trees, revealing an area of damp soil with scattered grass. When I kneeled, the cold, wet earth saturated my black jeans, sending a shiver through me. I took three red candles out of my backpack and placed them in a triangle on the ground. With shaking hands, I struck a match and held the flickering flame over each wick, waiting for it to ignite. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the aroma of cinnamon, letting it soothe me.
“Amá, it’s Tessa.” I waited. She had taught me how to contact the dead when my abuela passed away. It would’ve helped if I had someone with me, but people tended to freak out when I used the word séance.
Especially my dad.
Staying connected to the dead, honoring them, and always remembering them was part of me. My culture. Everything I loved and held dear to my heart were my family. And two of them were gone because of me.
I needed to focus. I pictured her in my mind. The dark curls. The warm, brown eyes. Her smile, always knowing, always laughing. “Amá, are you there?”
A gush of freezing wind brushed by me and my whole body shook from the cold. A light force, almost like a weight, pushed into me from all angles. My fingers scraped along the damp earth as I hurried to stand, sensing something nearby.
Tessa. My name rushed by with the breeze in a soft, sweet tone.
I whipped around, searching between the weeping branches for Amá. My low ponytail, heavy from the weight of my thick hair and the green scarf holding it back, swished with every sweep of the head.
Tessa.
“Amá?” Had she finally come? I rushed back to the candles, kneeling before them, bouncing and shaking at the same time. “I’m here. Please talk to me.”
The flames danced and a chill crawled up my back, snaking onto my neck. Frost engulfed the leaves on the ground and I watched as each one froze over in a slow motion tidal wave. I dug my dirty fingers into my jeans just to have something to latch onto. My ragged, deep breaths created a cloud of mist in front of me.
I stood, my wobbly legs almost making me collapse. My eyes darted around in search for the source of the cold. A bird whistled above me, piercing and loud, the sound echoing through the woods and vibrating my skull.
Swirls of dark colors forced themselves into my mind, followed by a series of images. An old, rusted key. A willow tree etched into stone. White flash. A brown and black bird with black, beady eyes and a sharply pointed orange beak. Black flash.
The intensity of the images shoved me to my knees. A presence drifted at my side at the same time a bone-chilling energy pressed into me. The bitter power ripped out any trace of happiness inside me, leaving something hollow in its place like I’d never experience joy again. My skin tingled all over, fear icing its way through my veins to the point I could barely move. The small bird landed next to me and craned its neck, looking at me with its beady eyes, just like from the image. At the same time it cawed – a lilting song that was captivating – heat radiated under my skin, replacing the cold and thawing my bones.
Lungs burning, I pushed my palms against my forehead until everything stopped. My eyes throbbed, lids twitching with each heart beat. Whatever evil had been there was gone. I took a few breaths to calm down before I peeled my eyes open one at a time, afraid of what possibly awaited me. The forest stood in a contemplative silence, the frost on the leaves gone and the candles blown out. The bird was nowhere in sight.
I wiped away the dirt on my hands, thinking I’d see a change in my body. Something inside felt different. But my brown skin looked the same as always. I traced the long, thick scar on my right hand, running between my thumb and index finger, remembering the crash.
For a while, I stayed rooted on the cold ground in confusion, trying to figure out what I had done wrong. Nothing like that had happened before. My previous séances had been calm and peaceful. This one had felt, well, evil.
When I noticed the time on my phone, I collected my candles and bag and forced myself to weave back through the trees and to the moving trailer outside the house. If Dad found out that I tried to contact Amá, I'd be grounded for the rest of my life. Luckily, he hadn’t come back from running his errand, giving me time to collect myself.
He’d tried to get me to go with him, but I wanted some time to have my séance, so I told him I needed to call my best friend back home and wanted some privacy. Dad had taken the car, but left my duffel bag so I had something to sit on. I fished out my favorite maroon hoodie with a Día de Muertos skull on it. My abuelo had bought it for me for my last birthday, and I wore it every chance I got.
I tightened the scarf holding my hair in a ponytail. It was one from Amá’s huge collection. I’d started wearing them after the crash to feel connected to her. The scar on my hand glared at me, reminding me of what I’d done. I quickly found another silk scarf in my duffel bag and wrapped it around my wrist, hooking it over the web of my right hand.
I sunk onto my bag, placing my hands over my face. I had to act like my normal self so Dad wouldn't get suspicious. He couldn’t know the terror I’d just faced. Even though the evil had vanished, my heart was still trying to find a normal rate. I took deep breaths, thinking of my mom and brother. They always brought me back to my serene place.
Since Amá and Felix’s deaths, acting had almost become second nature so I could get the worriers off my back. It was easy to appear fine on the outside, when, inside, I was slowly falling apart.
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