Last Breath

by Diane Hoh

  “Or hire a deejay,” Ann said gloomily. “No one’s going to like that very much. A dance with black-and-silver decorations and candles on the table should have live music.”

  Cassidy listened to all of this with growing misery. No one had said aloud, “How could you mess up like this, Cassidy?” But she knew they were all thinking it. “I can show you the letter of confirmation from Misstery,” she said defiantly. “It’s in my desk.”

  No one nodded or said, “Sure, of course you can, Cassidy. We believe you.”

  “And I’ll get another band,” she added quickly.

  “No, that’s okay,” Ann said hastily, “I’ll do it.”

  Now, everyone nodded. Their eyes avoided Cassidy’s as their heads bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

  The nods were every bit as insulting as open accusations would have been. Her friends no longer trusted her.

  She had to show them that letter of confirmation from Misstery.

  As if the atmosphere at the table wasn’t depressing enough, a few minutes later, Tobie Shea came by with her date in tow. She stood behind Ann’s chair, opposite Cassidy, her eyes suspicious. “Something’s going on,” she said flatly. “You guys all look like you just got suspended from school. What’s wrong?”

  Before Cassidy could stop her, Ann was spilling the whole, dismal story.

  “Okay, that does it!” Tobie said, surprising Cassidy with her vehemence. She no longer seemed the least bit quiet or shy. “I’m calling a meeting next week to find a new chairperson. I know you guys don’t want to replace Cassidy, because she’s your friend, but this dance is important and we need someone in charge who knows what she’s doing.” And she stormed off, dragging her embarrassed date with her.

  “Don’t worry about it, Cassidy,” Sophie said after a moment of painful silence. “We outnumber Tobie and her friends. You’re not going to be replaced.”

  “Maybe I should be,” Cassidy said quietly, and got up and ran from the table, taking refuge in the rest room.

  It was small, and crowded. She stood at the sink, staring into the mirror at a pale, bewildered face. What was happening to her? How could so many things go wrong so quickly? She had worked so hard to prove that she was capable, competent, healthy…no longer the sick, frail patient she’d been when she was little. And now it was all going wrong.

  A tall, thin girl with dark hair in a French braid stood at the companion sink, talking over her shoulder to a friend. “There’s so much going on right now,” she said, applying eye shadow as she talked. “There’s the party next Friday night at Nightmare Hall; that should be a blast.”

  Cassidy winced. Unlike her, this girl knew her social calendar.

  “And then,” the girl continued, “the freshmen psych majors are putting on a great dance the following weekend. Sam North asked me. The basketball player? He’s so cute. And Misstery is playing, so I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I can’t wait!”

  Cassidy felt sick. She turned and bolted from the restroom.

  When she returned to the table, everyone was getting up, ready to leave. Their festive mood had been banished by Lola’s announcement.

  That was fine with Cassidy. All she wanted to do was get back to her room and find that confirmation letter from the musical group. She was sure she’d put it in her desk.

  But then, she thought as Sawyer took her hand and led her from the club, I’ve been sure of a lot of things lately, and I’ve been wrong about all of them.

  She was relieved that no one felt like stopping anywhere to eat. They were back at the Quad in fifteen minutes.

  Cassidy’s heart was pounding wildly as they approached 56A. She had said nothing about hunting for the confirmation letter. It would be too humiliating to let them know how desperate she was to prove herself right.

  Of course, the minute she went to the desk and began fumbling around inside, they’d all know what she was up to. But then she’d find the letter, and she’d show, it to them, and it would be okay. Misstery still wouldn’t be playing at the dance, and that was a problem, but at least they’d all know she’d been telling the truth about the letter.

  She made an effort to appear casual as she moved to the desk. Sophie and Talia went downstairs to get drinks for all, Travis and Sawyer sprawled on the carpet, and Ann lounged on her bed. Sawyer attempted to make conversation, but it fell flat. Their elation over the football win had completely dissipated, replaced by gloom.

  Cassidy’s fingers moved quickly through the array of papers in her desk. Tuition and bookstore receipts, notebooks, the invitation from Nightmare Hall, photos, tons of notes from classes, old essays, charge card carbons…piles and piles of papers accumulated during the first few months of school.

  When her fingers failed to come in contact with anything that felt like Lola’s letter, she bent over the desk, head down, and began searching in earnest, glancing up only once, to find Sawyer’s eyes on her in sympathy. He knew exactly what she was searching for. But there was something else in his eyes, something that rocked Cassidy to her core. Doubt.

  There was doubt in Sawyer’s eyes as he watched her frantic movements at the desk. Sawyer didn’t expect her to find the letter. Because he didn’t believe it existed. That hurt so deeply, Cassidy felt as if someone had just plunged a knife into her chest.

  Still, she kept looking. It was here, it had to be here. She’d find it. Then she could whip it out of the desk, hold it up high, let them all see it. Let them all see that she wasn’t losing her grip, that she knew what she was talking about, that she wasn’t seeing things.

  When Sophie and Talia returned with the drinks, Cassidy was still searching, her head bent over the desk, her hands tossing papers left and right. She didn’t realize she was muttering to herself until Sophie said uneasily, “Cassidy, who are you talking to?”

  Cassidy raised her head. They were all staring at her. Sophie’s face was worried, and the concern in Sawyer’s eyes had deepened.

  And Cassidy realized how it must look. There she was, bent over the desk, tossing papers this way and that, muttering to herself like a maniac, her fingers flying frantically in an effort to find something no one believed she’d ever possessed.

  No wonder they were all staring at her as if she’d just stepped off a spacecraft and antennae were sprouting over her ears.

  “It’s not here,” she said, softly, giving up. “The letter from Lola. It was here, but it isn’t now. Someone must have taken it.”

  But she knew without asking that no one in the room believed there had ever been a letter.

  Chapter 13

  CASSIDY KNEW SHE SHOULD just forget about the letter. There was no way to prove that she’d ever had it. And freaking out about it was just making things worse. But something in her refused to admit defeat.

  “Lola signed it,” she said as she left the desk and sat down on the bed, hands folded in her lap. “She did. The letter said that because the dance was a benefit for the mental health clinic, Misstery would waive their fee. I was thrilled, because that meant we’d save a lot of money.”

  “It’s weird that you didn’t tell us that,” Ann said. “I’d think you would have told everyone.”

  “I forgot. I got busy and I forgot,” Cassidy said defiantly. She had meant to tell them, it was such good news. But then something else had happened and the letter had flown right out of her mind.

  Out of the hole in her mind?

  Her head ached. “It was such a nice letter,” she said almost dreamily, staring down at her fingers. She noticed that the pink nail polish was chipped on the little finger of her left hand. It looked gross. She would have to fix that, first chance she got. “For a musician, Lola writes a very nice letter.”

  No one said anything.

  Cassidy lifted her head. “Maybe it’s in your room, Sophie,” she said. “Maybe it got mixed in with your mail after I opened it. I think you should go look.”

  Sophie and Ann exchanged a weary glance.

  �
�Give it up, Cassidy,” Talia said. “Even if you found the letter now, Misstery is already scheduled to play somewhere else the night of the dance. We’ll find another group to play.”

  “I think I know someone who might be able to get us a great group,” Ann said quickly. “Tobie Shea is a friend of Cal Donner, the lead singer for Tattoo.”

  Cassidy’s upper lip curled in distaste. “Tattoo? They’re a rock group. Strictly rock. They wouldn’t play a slow, romantic song if you held a gun to their heads.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” Ann glanced around at the other faces in the room. “Isn’t she?”

  “No, she’s not,” Talia said heavily. “She’s right. Tattoo is okay, but not for the kind of dance we’re having. Their sound just doesn’t go with black and silver, candles and flowers.”

  “Well, it’s not like we have a lot of choices on such short notice,” Ann snapped.

  “Hey,” Sawyer said, “this isn’t a meeting of the dance committee, okay? We can talk about this stuff tomorrow. Sophie, put some music on. I’d like to relax a little before I call it a night.”

  Cassidy stood up. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand the sight of any of them. They all thought her brain was turning to spaghetti. And they made her think that, too. “I think we should call it a night right now,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “Travis, we’ve got that bike ride tomorrow. If we’re too tired, we won’t be able to keep up with everyone else.” She had no intention of going on that bike ride, but if she admitted that now, they’d all want to know why. Sophie would ask her if she was sick.

  She wasn’t sick. But everyone in the Hike and Bike Club would stare at her, whisper about her, expect her to do something weird or stupid. They’d be watching her, waiting to see what might happen. She couldn’t stand that. It would make her so nervous, she probably would do something weird.

  Travis would just have to find out tomorrow that she wasn’t pedaling up the hill to the state park with the rest of the club. He could handle it. It wasn’t like he still cared whether or not Cassidy Kirk was around.

  No one argued with her about leaving. They were all tired. It had been a long day, and it hadn’t ended that well.

  Besides, Cassidy thought when she returned to the room after kissing Sawyer good night out in the hall, I make them all uncomfortable. They’d never admit that, but it’s true.

  Well, that’s okay, she told herself as she crawled into bed, because I make myself uncomfortable.

  She had been physically ill a lot as a child. And she hadn’t liked it. But that was nothing compared to the sheer terror she felt now, thinking there might be something wrong with her mind. Her pills wouldn’t help, and neither would her inhaler.

  What would become of her if her mind got sick?

  She didn’t get out of bed the next morning. When Ann asked if she was awake and wanted to go to breakfast, Cassidy didn’t answer. And when, as the three were leaving the room, Sophie called out a reminder about the bike ride, Cassidy remained silent, burrowed deep in the blankets, facing the wall.

  She stayed in bed all morning, and was still there when her roommates left again, this time for lunch.

  “She’s going to be late for the bike ride,” she heard Sophie say as they left. Then the door closed behind them and Cassidy had the room all to herself.

  There wasn’t anything she wanted to do with the peace and quiet but sleep. Deep, blissful sleep, that was all she wanted. That wasn’t so much to ask, was it?

  Apparently, it was, because a short while later, someone began pounding on the door to her room and shouting her name.

  Travis.

  He had come to collect her? He was crazier than she was.

  “You’re not going to sleep your life away!” he called from beyond the door. “Open the door or I’ll break it down.”

  Yeah, right. The guy was a runner, not a weight lifter. But he was making so much noise, he’d draw a crowd if she didn’t shut him up.

  Throwing aside the covers in disgust, Cassidy padded to the door and yanked it open. “Are you nuts?” she hissed. “Can’t a person sleep around here?”

  “Not all day,” he said cheerfully. He was wearing blue bicycle shorts and a blue tank top under a Salem windbreaker. His white plastic helmet was in his hand. “Time to go. Throw some clothes on, and make it quick. We’re already late.”

  “I’m not late. Because I’m not going. So trot along, Travis, and give the hikers and bikers my regrets.”

  He stood firm. “Nope. You committed yourself to this ride, and you’re going. Unless, of course,” raising one eyebrow, “you’d rather they all speculated as to why you didn’t show up. I’m sure the reasons they’d invent would be far more imaginative than the truth, which is that you just chickened out.”

  Cassidy hesitated. She knew he was right. She had helped start this group on campus, and she’d talked a whole bunch of people into joining. Everyone was expecting her. If she didn’t show up, rumors would be flying thick and fast across campus tomorrow morning about how she’d hidden in her room all day instead of taking the planned bike trip.

  The news about Misstery not playing at the dance was already on tap for tomorrow’s rumor du jour. Wasn’t that enough? Did she really want to provide even more material for the rumor mill?

  No. She didn’t.

  “I’ll be right there,” she told Travis and slammed the door in his face. She’d go, but she didn’t have to be pleasant about it.

  It took her less than ten minutes to don red bike shorts, a matching long-sleeved top, and a white sweater. She was tying the laces on her white sneakers when Travis rapped on the door again. “Get a move on,” he called. “Post time is three minutes from now.”

  Making sure she had her inhaler and her key, Cassidy filled her water bottle, grabbed her fanny pack, and left the room.

  She refused to speak to Travis. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d been ambushed by her roommates. He’d probably had no more interest in collecting her for the bike ride than she had in going, but they’d persuaded him that she needed to get out of the room, then talked him into being the one to “rescue” her.

  She just hoped it hadn’t been Ann who had talked him into it. That would be too much.

  Before she hopped on her bike, she checked the back tire. It seemed fine. Bless Sophie! She’d taken it to the shop, after all. Sawyer was right. Delegating responsibilities was a good idea. On the off chance that anyone should ever again give her any responsibility, which didn’t seem likely now, she’d have to remember that.

  The group was just leaving the administration building when Travis and Cassidy arrived. She was grateful that they were bringing up the rear, which eliminated the stares she’d been dreading.

  They rode to the park along the river path behind campus, the clear, rushing river on one side, the woods on their right. It was another beautiful day, cool but sunny, with a bright blue, cloudless sky overhead. It took less than a mile of riding for Cassidy to be grateful that Travis had dragged her out of bed. She would have spent the entire day worrying herself sick if it hadn’t been for him.

  She glanced across at him, riding beside her on the dirt path. “Travis?”

  He turned his head. “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled at her then, and it no longer mattered to Cassidy that he probably had been bullied into dragging her forth into the sunshine. That seemed unimportant, even if it had been Ann’s doing.

  They were forced to take a detour when a small bridge over a waterfall proved to be unsafe. A large orange sign tacked to the railing made it clear that they would be riding over it at their own risk.

  As a result, they arrived at the state park later than anticipated. No one seemed to care. On such a gorgeous day, counting minutes seemed foolish.

  But the delay meant that by the time they left the park, the sun was already beginning to sink in the west. They were going back by the main road, and now they
would have to ride in traffic after dark.

  Cassidy hated to leave. She had forgotten how much fun Travis could be, at least when things were going his way. They had explored the woods, taking a long break to sit by one of the larger waterfalls and talk, and they had even made each other laugh.

  If only he wasn’t so demanding.

  It did seem pretty ironic, though, that they’d broken up because she was too busy. If things kept going the way they’d been going, before too long, she wouldn’t be busy at all. No one would trust her to be in charge of anything.

  She wondered, as they walked back to the clearing where they’d parked their bikes, how Travis would react if she said, “You know, Travis, if you’d just hung around a little while longer, I could have devoted myself totally to you, because there isn’t going to be anything else in my life.”

  He’d probably say something like, “Yeah, but who wants a basket case for a girlfriend?”

  Anyway, he had Ann now.

  By the time they were halfway between the park and school, darkness was falling rapidly, swallowing up the woods on either side of the road. Every bike had the required light and reflectors, and there was very little traffic. But Cassidy missed the sunshine and the daylight. Riding wasn’t as much fun at night, and it was getting very cold.

  It was Travis who started the argument. They were pedalling up the road in the dark, some distance behind the rest of the group, when he said suddenly, “So, you couldn’t talk Duncan into becoming a pedal-pusher?”

  Cassidy frowned. Why was he bringing up Sawyer? She hadn’t asked him about Ann. “No. He’s too busy. But I don’t mind,” she added pointedly, “because I’m busy, too. That’s the way we like it. We give each other plenty of space. And I don’t see Ann Ataska anywhere around here, either.”

  “We’re not joined at the hip,” Travis said sharply.

  “Oh? I thought that was what you wanted.” She was angry with him for ruining what had been a really nice time. And even angrier with herself for caring that he had ruined it. “I thought you wanted someone to adore you every second of the day.”