by Diane Hoh
“I’m doing a survey,” she told him. “Do you think you could run the car registrations of all the faculty for me?” It had occurred to her, in one of her more lucid moments that morning, that if the car existed, it could belong to a faculty member. Sawyer had only asked Tom to check the students’ registrations. She was reaching, she knew. Why on earth would a teacher be tormenting her? Maybe grasping at straws was what people did when they thought they were losing their minds.
“And we are looking for what, exactly?” he asked affably.
“The same thing we were looking for among the student population. A black TransAm.”
“What is it with that car?” he asked. “You got a thing for black sports cars?”
But she could hear him clicking keys as he talked and knew he was doing what she’d asked.
She held her breath. Please, please, she prayed.
“Nope,” Tom said a few minutes later. “We got your Mercedes-Benzes, we got your Chevys and your Fords and a couple of motorcycles and a Jeep and two pickup trucks. But no TransAm.”
“Are you sure?” she pressed, disappointment slashing at her like a razor blade.
“Cassidy, I know what I’m doing here.”
“Well, could you try the employees, then? You know, the maintenance staff and the cafeteria and dining hall workers and the administration building clerks. Please?” She wondered if he could hear the frantic desperation in her voice. Probably. Now he’d believe the rumors about her.
He sighed, but the keys began clicking again.
She waited.
“Sorry,” he said finally. “As far as I can tell, there is no black TransAm anywhere on this campus.”
Chapter 15
THAT AFTERNOON, CASSIDY WAS replaced as chairperson of the dance committee.
She didn’t even argue about it. Although her cheeks burned when the result of the vote, which Tobie Shea had insisted upon, was announced, and although she wanted nothing more than to slide from her chair to the floor where no one could see her, Cassidy didn’t argue. They were right to worry about how she would perform her duties. How could someone who was having trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy accomplish everything necessary for this dance?
Mentally, she reviewed the evidence: There was no black TransAm on campus. Her bike was safely locked in the rack in front of the Quad, and it didn’t have a scratch on it. The cut on her leg was minor, and could have come from underbrush in the park and not a shattered bicycle light. The crisp new bills from the car wash had disappeared. Likewise, the essay she thought she’d given Travis. The invitation to the party at Nightmare Hall had the correct date on it, and there was nothing wrong with her clock or her wristwatch.
When you added it all up, as Tobie Shea obviously had, it meant there had to be something wrong with Cassidy Kirk’s mind.
So she didn’t protest when she was replaced.
After the dance committee meeting, Ann, the new chairperson via a second vote, walked to the back of the room to sit down beside Cassidy. “Since you’ve already ordered the decorations,” she said, her voice maddeningly gentle, “you can still be in charge of those, okay?”
“Gee, thanks, Ann,” Cassidy said, unable to resist the sarcasm. “I am truly honored.”
Ann looked hurt. “Cassidy! It’s not my fault. Listen, I didn’t vote against you. None of your friends did. But Tobie had more people on her side than we thought. And they were determined to replace you.”
What was the point of arguing now? Hadn’t she already decided they were right to replace her? “Never mind,” Cassidy said, standing up as Travis walked over to join them. “Forget it, Ann. You’ll make a great chairperson. Good luck.” And without glancing Travis’s way, she hurried from the room.
She went for a long walk along the river-bank, reluctant to return to the Quad. They would probably all go there after the meeting in the library basement was over. She didn’t want to see any of them.
It was a cool, cloudy day. The river was high, babbling furiously as it rushed along between its banks. Cassidy sat on a fat, gray rock overlooking the water, her head on her bended knees, thinking about how quickly she had gone from loving every moment of college life to dreading getting up in the morning. How had that happened? Why was it happening?
“Not thinking about jumping, are you?” a voice said in her ear, startling her.
Sawyer. “Been looking for you,” he said, sitting down beside her. “I heard about what happened yesterday.”
“You and everyone else on campus,” she said, staring out over the water. “And you’re being tactful, Sawyer. What you really mean is, you heard about what I said happened but probably didn’t. Am I right? You heard about a car that wasn’t there, a tire that wasn’t really flat, and a bicycle that wasn’t really smashed to bits, right?”
“Travis said you’d be upset if I mentioned it. But I just thought maybe we should talk about it.”
Travis had said she would be upset? Well, Travis ought to know. He’d been there when the whole thing happened, seen how upset she was when they found her bicycle lying by the side of the road in one piece. If only he’d seen the black TransAm, too…
“Maybe you had an accident,” Sawyer suggested. “On your bike. Fell and hit your head, and the whole car thing was kind of a dream, while you were unconscious.”
Cassidy knew he was trying to be helpful. “Sawyer, I’d know if I’d had an accident.”
The expression on his face told her he wasn’t so sure. She could tell he didn’t know what to make of this new Cassidy. When he’d met her, she had been strong and confident and busy. Like him. That Cassidy wouldn’t have been sitting on a rock staring at the river. She had never had time, for one thing. Too many other things to do.
It wasn’t the kind of thing Sawyer would do, either. Finding her here must have been a surprise to him. Or maybe not. Maybe nothing she did now surprised anyone.
Sawyer thought she’d had an accident and then forgotten about it? Cassidy sighed in despair. When her friends thought she was seeing a car that wasn’t there, they decided she was going off the deep end. But when she refused to invent an accident that she was pretty sure hadn’t happened, Sawyer questioned that, too. She couldn’t win.
Was anyone ever going to believe her again?
“Look, don’t worry about it,” he said, reaching for her hand. “You probably just need a good night’s sleep, that’s all. Maybe the ride was too much for you, with your asthma and all. Dr. Duncan orders rest, and plenty of it.”
When he put his arms around her and kissed her, she felt like a patient being given a shot. Therapy. Sawyer’s kiss felt like therapy. Like he was hoping it would cure her.
She hated that. Hated that he thought she needed a cure.
And the worst part about that was, he was probably right.
When she returned to the room later, the door was standing open, and she could hear voices inside. She’d been right about their coming back here after the meeting.
Her stomach began to churn. The last thing in the world she wanted now was to walk into a room full of people. Especially people who knew she was no longer chairperson of the dance committee.
But Sawyer had been right about one thing. She was tired. She wanted to lie down, hide in her bed, snuggle down under the covers the way she had as a child. Maybe she wouldn’t get up until the semester was over. That seemed like a good idea.
She’d throw them all out, and then she’d crawl into bed. It was her room.
She was almost to the doorway when she heard Travis’s voice say, “I told her all along that if she didn’t slow down, she was going to self-destruct. She wouldn’t listen. That’s what split us up. But I was right, wasn’t I? I’m telling you, she’s on the edge. One more push and…”
Ann interrupted him. “I agree with Travis. It started with that essay she said she’d given him when she really hadn’t, and it just got worse from that point on. It makes me nervous, living with someone who
sees things that aren’t there. Who knows what she’ll do next?”
Sophie’s voice followed. “I’ve always envied Cassidy. She was so organized, so efficient, and she seemed to have so much fun getting things done. Not at all like me. I know she didn’t believe I got her bike tire fixed, and I don’t blame her. It’s just the sort of thing I’d forget. But I didn’t forget. So how could she have had a flat tire yesterday?”
“She didn’t,” Travis said. “I saw the tire. It was fine. And there never was a car out there, like she said. I would have seen it.”
“One of us could talk to our parents,” Ann said. “They’re all experts. But Cassidy got so upset when Talia suggested that she talk to Talia’s mother.”
“It’s weird,” Talia said. “Cassidy seems like the last person in the world to lose it like this. I guess we could talk to Professor Bruin,” she suggested then. “She’s a psychiatrist. She could probably tell us what to do.”
Cassidy’s face felt like it was on fire as she stepped into the room, catching them all by surprise. “You don’t need to go to Professor Bruin,” she said heatedly to chagrined faces, “because I can tell you what to do. You can get out of my room. If there’s anything I don’t need right now, it’s a bunch of amateur psychologists discussing me. I want you all to leave.”
“This is my room, too, Cassidy,” Ann said quietly.
“So, you stay. But the next time you want to have a meeting to discuss my sanity, I’d appreciate it if you’d conduct it somewhere else. Maybe at the mental health clinic in town. That would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it?”
“Cassidy,” Sophie said pleadingly, “don’t be mad. We’re just worried about you, that’s all.”
“Right,” Cassidy snapped, and moved past them into the bathroom. She slammed the door as hard as she could, and leaned against the edge of the sink, fighting angry tears.
How could they? How could they talk about her behind her back like that? Practically dissecting her, as if she were a frog in science lab.
She wasn’t some stupid science project!
Knowing how they all felt, there was only one way she could stay on campus now. If she wasn’t willing to pack her bags and grab the next bus back home, and she wasn’t, she would just have to be extra, extra careful not to see things that weren’t there. And if she did see something weird, or something strange happened, she would just have to keep it to herself. She would share it with no one, not Ann or Sophie or Talia or Travis, not even Sawyer. He’d want to believe her, but she’d see the doubt in his eyes. And that would hurt.
No, if she was going to make it at Salem, she was going to have to work really hard at appearing to be as sane as anyone else on campus.
She laughed bitterly to herself. Was it possible to act sane if you weren’t? She really should ask Professor Bruin.
Cassidy turned then and stared at herself in the mirror over the sink. “You can’t ask Professor Bruin if it’s possible to fake sanity,” she told herself softly. “Because the answer might be no. And then where will you be?”
When she returned to her room, it was empty. Voices from Sophie and Talia’s room told her Ann had probably been unwilling to face her, and had retreated with them. Or maybe that was Talia talking on the phone to her mother-the-shrink, begging her for advice.
Cassidy sank into the comfort of her bed gratefully, and was asleep in seconds.
All that week, she felt as if she were walking on eggs. When she crossed campus, she kept her eyes on the ground, fearful of seeing the black TransAm. Equally afraid of saying something that would raise eyebrows, she kept quiet in class. After classes, she went directly to the library, sitting in a dark corner until late. She ate alone, from the vending machines in the Quad’s basement, and went back to her room only when she was sure that everyone was either asleep or out. And she slept as much as possible, going to bed early, getting up late if she had no early-morning classes.
Sophie and Talia both tried to talk to her. “We miss you at dinner,” Sophie complained on Wednesday. “You can’t be studying every single minute. Everyone knows you don’t need to. You never did before. Aren’t you ever going to have fun again, Cassidy?”
Talia was more sympathetic. “I don’t blame you,” she said as she waited for her date on Thursday evening. Cassidy was already in bed, saying she had a headache. She didn’t, but if Talia kept talking, she would.
“I know how horrible it must be, being stared and pointed at and talked about,” Talia continued. “You must hate it. But if you keep this up, people are going to really wonder about you. You are going to the party at Nightmare Hall, aren’t you? It’s tomorrow night. My mother says you have to show up, because it’s the only way to prove to everyone that you’re okay.”
So Talia had called her mother.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Cassidy muttered, pulling the comforter up underneath her chin.
Talia hurried over to sit on Cassidy’s bed. “You have to go, Cassidy! Don’t you get it? It’ll show everyone you’re a good sport, that you’ve got your act together enough to just blow off the mistake you made when you showed up on the wrong night. No big deal. It’s the only way. You know I’m right.”
“Go away, Dr. Talia, I’m not interested in your amateur headshrinking. Besides, I already went to a party at Nightmare Hall, remember? I didn’t have fun.”
Talia gave up.
Cassidy meant what she’d said. She had no intention of walking up the steps to Nightmare Hall on Friday night.
But on Friday morning, in psych class, Travis raised his hand when Professor Bruin had finished her lecture.
“Yes, Mr. McVey?”
“I was wondering…we’ve been talking a lot about stress causing hallucinations under certain circumstances. If the hallucinating really is due to stress, what would the recommended treatment be?”
Cassidy swallowed hard. Was he talking about her? How could he, with her sitting right there?
“That’s in the next chapter, Mr. McVey. We haven’t touched on it yet. If you’d like to read ahead, feel free.”
“Yeah, I will, but we were talking about this the other day, and someone suggested that maybe retreating from everyday life might be the answer. You know, giving up your usual activities, sleeping a lot, sort of hiding out, you might say. I said I didn’t think that was the answer, and we kind of argued about it.”
Cassidy fumed. They’d been talking about her again? She hadn’t come to any of them with any more wild stories, so why were they still discussing her? She raised her head and directed a contemptuous glance in Travis’s direction, signalling him with her eyes to get a life.
He ignored her.
“Read the chapter, Mr. McVey. But in the meantime, you can tell your friend that if it were that simple, most of the population would be hiding in their rooms and psychiatrists and psychologists and counselors would be out of business.”
Travis nodded knowingly.
Cassidy wished she were sitting close enough to slap his smug face.
She was hurrying to the library after class when he caught up with her. He grabbed her elbow and spun her around to face him. “So?” he demanded, “were you listening? Did you hear what Bruin said? It’s not that simple. Hiding out won’t do the trick.”
She tore her elbow out of his grasp. “You think you know so much! You don’t know anything! You sure as hell don’t know anything about we! But I know something about you. The only reason you want me doing business as usual is, you’re hoping I’ll fall apart from stress, just so you can say you were right when we argued that last time. God, Travis, is it that important to you to be right?”
His mouth tightened and his dark eyes narrowed. “Did Sawyer tell you that? That I have some compulsive need to be right?”
“I heard you,” Cassidy cried. “At the Quad the other day. You were in my room, and I heard you with my own ears.”
He nodded grimly. “Like you saw with your own eyes a black car no one else has
ever seen?”
Uttering a cry of exasperation, Cassidy turned and raced away to the library.
Travis didn’t follow her.
But her tormented mind made a decision as she ran across campus under the huge old trees, almost bare now of leaves. She had to go to the party at Nightmare Hall. She had to.
The discomfort of showing up, the stares, the whispers, would all be worth it, just to see the look on Travis McVey’s face.
Hiding out, was she? Well, she’d show him.
She was going to that party.
If it was the last thing she ever did.
Chapter 16
SOPHIE, BUSY SCRUNCHING HER WET HAIR IN front of the dresser mirror, was delighted when she learned that Cassidy had changed her mind about the party. “That’s great! You sure you feel up to it? You’ve been so tired lately.”
Cassidy feigned an old woman’s voice. “Well,” she cackled, “I think I can drag these old bones to one more outing before I give up the ghost.”
Sophie laughed. “You are feeling better.”
Not true. Not true at all. Cassidy felt as if she were trying to hold her brain together with her bare hands.
But Sophie didn’t need to know that Cassidy was going to Nightmare Hall to prove a point.
Determined to do a good job of convincing everyone just how fit she really was, she spent two hours on her hair and makeup and her outfit. Black suede jeans and a red silk blouse, black suede vest and boots. Nothing sickly about that.
“You look fantastic!” Talia said admiringly. “I’m glad you took my advice. I mean, my mother’s. But it’s mine, too. Staving home would look like weakness, and you’re not weak, Cassidy.”
Make that wasn’t weak, Cassidy thought bleakly. Past tense.
Ann came in then, and stopped short when she saw the way Cassidy was dressed. “I thought you weren’t going to the party.”
“I’m the one who talked her into it,” Talia boasted.
For just one fleeting moment, Ann’s face registered surprise and…disappointment? Annoyance? Cassidy couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, it wasn’t delight.