by Diane Hoh
Travis made a sound of disgust low in his throat, stomped down on his pedals, and raced away. He kept pedalling furiously, and the distance between them widened rapidly. Cassidy watched in dismay as the beam from his bike light, shining on the road, grew further and further away.
She was alone in the darkness, with nothing but silent, black woods on either side of her.
The blood in her veins began to race. There was no moon overhead, no streetlights along the road. Only the tiny light on the front of her bike, providing illumination as she pedalled as fast as she could to catch up to the group. They must have gone around a curve just then, because she could no longer see the little pools of reflected light on the road up ahead.
She pedalled faster, although her chest was beginning to ache. How could Travis leave her out here alone like this? Sawyer wouldn’t have. Never.
There was a curve. She whizzed around it, and had just emerged on the straightaway when her rear tire began thumping ominously and the bicycle began to drag heavily against her pedalling.
Oh, no. Sophie, Cassidy screamed silently, you promised!
The bikers up ahead disappeared around another curve.
She couldn’t keep riding with a flat tire. As much as she hated the idea of stopping on the pitch-black road, Cassidy knew she had no choice. Travis would notice, eventually, that she wasn’t catching up with them, and he’d come back for her. She had to climb down, before the tire was ruined beyond repair. Maybe it already was.
She slowed, stopped, climbed down, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps. Her parents had been dead set against Cassidy biking, saying it would be too much of a strain. Only when the new medication proved so beneficial had they allowed her to buy the racer.
Now, she thought maybe they’d been right. The ride had been too long and she’d been pedalling too fast in an effort to catch up to the others. Her chest hurt, and she could feel a coughing spasm coming on. Great. That was all she needed now. Just the thing to make her misery complete.
She reached into her fanny pack for her inhaler. As she bent her head, she saw the faint glow of headlights behind her, coming very slowly around the curve she’d just rounded.
Forgetting the inhaler, she straightened up. The car was headed toward campus. She’d hitch a ride. They could put her bike in the trunk, leaving the lid open. Or they could tie it to the roof. Then she could get out of this cold darkness and ride back to campus in safety and comfort. She wouldn’t even wave to Travis when the car passed the bikers. Let him worry about where she was. It would serve him right.
She stepped out into the road and began waving her arms as the car came out of the curve.
At the very last second, as the oncoming headlights blinded her, it occurred to Cassidy that jumping into a car without finding out first who was behind the wheel probably wasn’t such a hot idea. Struck by uncertainty, she darted to the opposite side of the road, in an effort to get a look at the car. Impossible to see it behind those blinding headlights, but she told herself the chances were good that it was someone from school, since it was headed toward campus. They’d take her with them and this dismal bike ride would become just an unpleasant memory.
Wrong.
She saw the dangling hearts first. Then the dark, tinted window glass, and then the black bulk itself registered. The TransAm.
As her breath caught in her chest, the car gunned its engine and, with a squeal of tires, sped up the road and raced straight toward the disabled bicycle.
Cassidy cried out.
The car slammed into the bike with a clash of metal on metal. The racer flew up into the air. The fat, round light on the handlebars was torn free on impact and flung sideways, landing in pieces at Cassidy’s feet. A chunk of glass bounced off the highway and hit her in her shin. She cried out again, this time in pain, but never took her eyes off the bicycle as it sailed up into the dark night like a large red-and-silver kite, somersaulting once before it disappeared into the deep, thick woods and landed, unseen, with a muffled thunking sound.
Chapter 14
THE REALIZATION THAT ONLY moments before, she had been sitting on the bicycle that had just somersaulted into the air and crashed in the woods took Cassidy’s breath away. If the TransAm had come along before the tire went flat, would it have swept bicycle and rider off the road in one blow?
“Thank you, Sophie,” Cassidy whispered gratefully. “If you’d remembered to get the tire fixed, I might be dead now.” That thought was so stunning, her knees gave, and she sank to the asphalt, wincing in pain as the rough surface scraped against her skin. But her eyes, open wide, remained fixed on the car.
It had come to a screeching halt after impact and sat now, directly opposite Cassidy, its engine purring, spitting its cotton-ball puffs of smoke from the exhaust.
“Go away!” Cassidy screamed. “Go away!”
The car honked once in reply, then drove away at a leisurely pace, as if it were out for a pleasant Sunday-afternoon drive.
The arrogance of its deliberate crawl infuriated Cassidy. She jumped to her feet, shaking her fists at the car. “Why are you doing this?” she screamed. “Why?”
Slowly, smoothly, the TransAm silently disappeared around the second curve.
It was dark on the road again. Empty. Silent.
Cassidy had never felt so alone. She would never forgive Travis for abandoning her. If it hadn’t been for him, she wouldn’t have come on this trip. And then he’d gone off, just because she’d made a nasty comment, and left her all alone on a dark road. Never mind that he couldn’t have known she’d be at the mercy of a hit-and-run driver. He still shouldn’t have left her.
Cassidy glanced around her. She was afraid to move, terrified of walking up the road only to encounter the TransAm again. But she couldn’t stay where she was. It wasn’t safe here, either.
Where was it safe?
Nowhere.
She knew she wasn’t going to try to find the bike. It could have landed anywhere in those woods, and she had no flashlight. Even if she found it, she didn’t have the strength to drag a crumpled pile of metal all the way back to campus.
Taking a deep breath, she set off down the road on foot, anxiously glancing around for any sign of the TransAm as she hiked. She walked on the berm for what seemed a very long time, and had just passed the second curve when she saw a faint light coming toward her.
Her heart began to pound furiously. The TransAm? Coming back to finish the job?
No. The arc of light on the highway was too small.
A bicycle.
Finally! Someone from the club had realized that one of their riders was missing.
Although her breathing had become painfully ragged, Cassidy picked up her pace. Anxious to reach the approaching bicycle, she broke into an unsteady lope.
Her steps slowed when she recognized the rider.
Travis.
“Where have you been!” he shouted when he reached her. “I thought you were right behind me, and…where’s your bike?”
More than one sarcastic reply sprang to Cassidy’s lips. But she was too shaken to spar with Travis. “In the woods,” she said instead. “A car hit it. It’s totalled, I think.”
He jumped off his bike. “A car? What car? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I wasn’t on it at the time. I had a flat tire, so I stopped, and then…” She couldn’t go over it all again.
Travis glanced around. “Cassidy, there hasn’t been any traffic on this road for the last hour. Anything that passed you would have had to pass me, too. Nothing has. Not a single car.”
Cassidy’s stomach somersaulted. Not again. It wasn’t happening again.
No. No, that wasn’t possible. The car had been there, of course it had, and it had hit her bike. She couldn’t be wrong about that. “Well, there must be a side road then,” she said uncertainly. How could Travis not have seen the car? “A turnoff somewhere between where I was and where you were. Because my bicycle is lying in the woods
somewhere back there, probably smashed to smithereens. If you don’t believe me, come on, give me a lift and I’ll show you.”
When she was seated behind him, her arms around his waist, and they were on their way, she said into his neck, “It was the TransAm, Travis. Prom the car wash. Remember? The guy that gave me all that money?”
“The money that disappeared,” he said bluntly over his shoulder.
Ignoring that, Cassidy said, “I saw it. It slammed into my bicycle, sent it flying into the woods, and then drove away slowly, as if it had all the time in the world. The guy, whoever he is, is totally psychotic!”
When Travis didn’t answer, Cassidy realized that his helmet, combined with the whooshing sound of the wind as they rode, had kept him from hearing her.
She decided that was okay with her. He’d be more likely to believe her after he’d seen the bike, anyway. It was there, waiting in the woods, ready to prove to one and all that it really had been struck by a car. There were probably traces of black paint from the TransAm on it somewhere. She would call the police this time. What the driver had done was a crime, and he wasn’t going to get away with it.
She recognized the spot immediately. It was exactly halfway between the two sharp curves. As they approached it, she tugged at Travis’s sleeve, signalling him to stop. She climbed down behind Travis and tugged her helmet off. Then she turned to check once more to make sure they were in the right spot.
The first thing she noticed was that there was no glass anywhere on the road. Although her leg still stung and the small cut was surrounded by dried blood, the glass from her bike light had disappeared. There wasn’t a trace of it on the asphalt. Not a trace.
And then she realized that Travis was staring at something lying on the berm of the road. “Cassidy?” he said in an odd voice. “What did you say happened to your bike?”
Even before she moved to join him, she saw it. Lying peacefully by the side of the road, as if it had been carefully placed there by loving hands. Red. Silver. Black, padded seat. Not a scratch on it anywhere. Round, silver light, completely intact, nestled securely on the handlebars.
“That’s not mine,” Cassidy said, as a sickening bewilderment swept over her. She moved closer to the bicycle. “It can’t be. No way.”
Travis reached down and plucked the water bottle from its holder. He held it up in front of her as she arrived at his side. “Your initials,” he said bluntly. “C.K. That’s you, right?”
“This can’t be my bike,” she repeated through stiff lips. “Mine is in the woods, probably wrecked. I saw it happen.” But when she reached Travis’s side, she saw the chip in the left pedal where she’d run into a cement curb last summer. “No,” she said softly, “no, this is not possible.”
Travis turned to look at her. He was frowning, his lips tight. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“He hit it!” she cried. “I saw him hit it. I was over there.” She pointed a trembling finger. “And my bike was here, on the berm, and the TransAm came around the curve and sent it flying up into the air. All I could think about was, if the tire hadn’t been flat, I’d have been on it when he hit it and I’d have gone flying into the air, too.”
“Cassidy.”
“What?”
“The tire isn’t flat. Sophie had it fixed, she told me she did. Look at it. It’s not flat.”
Cassidy looked. He was right. There was nothing wrong with the rear tire.
She couldn’t bear the look on Travis’s face. “But I…”
“Just get on it,” he said wearily, “and we’ll get going, okay? It’s late. I’m beat.” And he turned away to walk back to his own bike.
“Travis!” Cassidy cried, anguish in her voice because it was, after all, happening again. The same now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t that had happened before. She couldn’t stand it. Not again. It was like falling into a deep, black hole that never stopped. “It happened, Travis!” She was screaming now. “I didn’t imagine it, I didn’t!”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Cassidy,” he said as he climbed on his bike, “but I think you need some rest. I know I do. Let’s go.”
He began pedalling away again. Terrified of being left alone a second time, Cassidy picked up the bike that couldn’t possibly be hers but looked and felt exactly like it and got on. She began pedalling after Travis, her legs moving automatically, while her mind struggled frantically to make sense of the past hour.
How could this possibly be her bicycle? It looked like her bike, and it even felt like her bike, and there was that chip in the pedal. But…
Travis didn’t believe her. She couldn’t blame him. She had said her bicycle was in the woods, and it wasn’t. She had said it was totalled, and it wasn’t. She had said the tire was flat, and it wasn’t.
Travis was only thinking what any sane person would think, under the circumstances.
Any sane person.
Does that let me out? she wondered. She felt like she was sinking into quicksand. Something awful had happened back there on the highway and now it looked as if it hadn’t happened at all, and she didn’t understand that.
They rode, single file, all the way to school in silence.
When Travis left her at the Quad, he said only, “Get some sleep.”
His prescription for a nervous breakdown, apparently. Dr. Travis McVey, noted shrink.
She locked her bike in the rack, and ran into the building.
Sophie was sitting on Ann’s bed, reading. She looked up when Cassidy burst into the room. “Whoa! Who’s chasing you? How was your bike ride? You’re so late. How can you ride in the dark? I’d be nervous…Cassidy? What’s wrong?”
Cassidy had collapsed on her bed as if she’d run all the way from the state park. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” She was very, very cold. Wrapping the comforter around her, she said, “Sophie, how much do I owe you for the bike repairs?” because she was hoping and praying that Sophie would say, Oh, gee, Cassidy, I’m sorry, I forgot to take your bike in. How did you ride with a flat tire?
Because if Sophie said that, wouldn’t that mean the whole horrible business with the TransAm really had happened? Wouldn’t that mean that she had had had a flat tire, and she had stopped on the highway, and the car had come around the curve and sent her bike flying into the air…
But Sophie didn’t say that. What Sophie said was, “It was only two dollars, Cassidy. Don’t worry about it. They never charge very much at the bike shop.”
Pulling the flowered comforter more tightly around her, Cassidy began to tremble with cold and confusion and fear. But she wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. She couldn’t. It was too hard to give up. Too painful. “Do you have the receipt?”
Sophie looked startled. “Oh, yeah, sure. It’s here somewhere.” She jumped off the bed and went into her own room. She was back a moment later with a messy handful of papers. But several minutes of rifling through them left her looking perplexed. “Well, it should be in here,” she said. “I know this is where I put it.” She glanced up from the papers. “Honestly, Cassidy, forget the two dollars, okay? You can buy me lunch this week.”
“It’s not the money,” Cassidy said, knowing she should drop the subject. The quicksand tugged at her feet, threatening to swallow her up. But she couldn’t stop now. She had so many questions. Why couldn’t Sophie answer them for her? What kind of friend was she? “It’s…well, the tire felt a little flat, that’s all, and so I thought maybe you’d forgotten to have it fixed.”
“It went flat? Gee, I’m sorry. They must not have done a very good job patching the leak. But they did patch it, Cassidy. I didn’t forget to take the bike in.” Sophie thought for a minute and then asked, “If your tire went flat, how did you get home?”
The quicksand tugged harder. “Well…it wasn’t as flat as I thought it was,” Cassidy said lamely.
When Sophie gave her a questioning look, Cassidy got up and went into the bathroom. She never should have brought up the subject of the bicy
cle.
When she came out of the bathroom, ready for bed, Sophie glanced up again. “You okay, Cassidy? You look a little weird. Maybe that bike ride was too much for you. I mean, with your asthma and all.”
Tm not an invalid, Sophie.” Actually, her body seemed to be doing just fine, even after the long, strenuous day it had had. It was her mind that was malfunctioning. And that was so much worse. “I’m just a little tired. All I want to do is sleep.”
Sophie took the hint. She picked up her book, and headed for her own room. In the doorway, she said, “Oh, by the way, Sawyer called. I think he was worried. Because it was getting late and you weren’t back yet. You should probably call him.”
“Too tired,” Cassidy murmured. And the thought of trying to explain something to Sawyer that she didn’t understand herself was exhausting. Tomorrow…she’d be able to think more clearly tomorrow.
Then again, maybe she wouldn’t.
What if she was never able to think clearly again, ever, in her whole life?
The thought filled her with raw, icy terror.
In psych class the following morning, Cassidy, pale and tired, listened with growing uneasiness as Professor Bruin talked at length about “breaking points for the human mind.” I don’t want to listen to this, Cassidy thought. Her hands felt like ice. She couldn’t seem to get warm these days, no matter how many clothes she wore.
“Stress can weaken even the strongest among us,” the professor lectured. “There are documented cases of hallucinations caused solely by stress. No drugs were involved, no hypnosis, and no diagnosed mental illness.”
Cassidy turned her head just then and found Travis looking directly at her.
Are you okay? he mouthed silently.
Yes, she mouthed back, hating his concern for her.
But she knew she was lying. She was far from okay. She wouldn’t be okay until she knew exactly how close to the brink of insanity she was dancing.
But she wasn’t giving up without a fight. After class, she called Sawyer’s friend Tom at the administration building and asked him for a favor.