Chapter
Seventeen
The first morning back in school after being off for two days is going as well as expected. Everyone’s extra quiet—I’m sure the teachers love this. It’s not easy, acting like everything’s fine when it’s so not. The police presence is everywhere on campus today. Uniformed officers seem to be everywhere I look, and there were a couple of local news trucks parked out in front of the school when I first got here this morning.
But I try my best to put on my confident face and pretend everything’s okay. I might be dying a little inside—because seriously, it’s hard to fake normal when everything is so not normal—but I’m trying. I really, really am.
By third period I’m exhausted from smiling at everyone and I give myself permission to be my regular self for a while. I hide behind my propped-up physics book while Mrs. Emmert drones on about pendulums and Galileo, slowly rubbing my neck as I stare at my notes for so long, the words start to lose focus.
A folded piece of lined paper lands on top of my desk, right in the middle of my notebook. I glance over at Cass—yes, he still sits next to me, and no I can’t change my seat yet—but he’s not even looking in my direction.
I unfold the paper to find one line written across the center.
How you holding up?
Should I answer him? I sneak another look in his direction but he’s totally focused on Mrs. Emmert’s lecture.
Please. He must know I’m studying him.
I write the words why do you care? quickly, fold the paper, and toss it back to him, immediately upset with myself for being so rude.
Too late now.
He taps his pen against the edge of his desk again and again, maybe trying to draw my attention? But I don’t look over at him. I rest my left elbow on my desk and prop my head on my fist, blocking out Cass completely because really, we shouldn’t be talking. I don’t want to talk to him. I want nothing to do with him.
The folded note is back on my desk within minutes, and I stare at it for a long moment before I exhale and unfold the paper.
I was just checking on you. I know this must be hard, what happened to Gretchen and now Lex. I wanted to make sure you were okay.
His words are…kind. Since this has all started, no one has asked if I’m okay. Oh, my parents have, but more because they have to and they’re concerned for my welfare. I know they care, but they’re parents. They’re supposed to care.
No one else has checked on me, and it feels…nice. Even if it is Cass Vincenti who’s doing the asking.
I decide to answer him.
I’m all right. It’s been really hard, and I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m holding up as best I can.
How are you?
When Mrs. Emmert’s back is to us as she writes on the white board, I look over at Cass to find he’s already watching me, his dark eyes meeting mine. I hold my hand out with the note and he takes it from me, his fingers brushing against mine, making my skin tingle.
Weird.
I try to concentrate on what Mrs. Emmert is saying, but I can’t. All I can focus on is Cass sitting next to me, the scratch of his pen as he writes on the paper we’re sharing, the way a lock of dark hair falls across his forehead as he hunches over his desk. I’m blatantly watching him now, slumped in my seat, the book hopefully hiding my face, and I glance over the top edge, watching Mrs. Emmert just as the note lands on my desk once more.
Anticipation fills me as I open the paper, which is ridiculous. This is Cass. And we’re passing notes back and forth like we’re lovesick twelve-year-olds.
I want to talk to you. Meet me by the bathrooms in ten?
Glancing up with a frown, our gazes meet. How? I mouth at him.
Watch me, he mouths back, just before he raises his hand.
“Yes, Cass?” Mrs. Emmert asks wearily when she spots him.
He drops his arm. “I forgot I need to go to the main office.”
Mrs. Emmert frowns. “Why?”
“My grandma left something there for me to pick up.” His expression is completely solemn as he adds, “It’s personal.”
A few of the jocks start snickering, but Cass ignores them. So does Mrs. Emmert.
“Go ahead,” she says, making a shooing gesture with her hands. “But don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” he promises her as he gathers up his stuff, shoves it all into his backpack before he whispers to me, “Get a hall pass in like, five minutes.”
Then he flashes me a smile and leaves.
His departure disrupts the classroom and Mrs. Emmert gives up for a few minutes, going over to her desk to take a few swigs from her Dr Pepper. Courtney whisper-shouts from where she’s sitting two desks over, her eyebrows raised when I ask her what’s up.
“What’s up with you? Suddenly getting all cozy with Cass?” Court smirks. “Decided to give the dark side a try or what?”
Panic makes my stomach twist. Did she see us passing notes? “What do you mean?”
“He whispered something to you before he left.” Her smile is small, and vaguely evil, if that’s even a thing. “I saw him. And he smiled at you. He never smiles at anyone.”
He doesn’t? “Oh, he said everyone in this class is a bunch of assholes, and that made me laugh because it’s not a lie, you know?” I laugh again, though it sounds fake, not that Court notices. She laughs, too, and nods, dramatically rolling her eyes when Mrs. Emmert claps her hands and demands our attention.
Not five minutes later I’m ducking out of class, the hall pass clutched in my hand as I make my way to the bathrooms. I glance around the empty hall, looking for Cass, but I don’t see him anywhere.
Maybe we’re not going to be able to talk after all. Why do I feel disappointed? I don’t trust him. I don’t even really know him. One chat in my car after a string of ominous texts doesn’t form a friendship.
I’m about to push the door into the girls’ bathroom when I hear something.
“Psst.”
I look over at the boys’ bathroom to see Cass holding open the door, already inside. He takes my hand and yanks me in with him, shutting and locking the door behind us.
“Hey!” I protest as I shake his hand off mine. “Why’d you lock it? Won’t someone try to come in?”
“I want to have a private conversation with you.” Something about the way he says private makes me want to shiver, and not in a bad way either.
“What if someone tries to open the door?” And why am I so fixated on the door? Because I don’t want to think about why I’m alone with Cass in the boys’ bathroom in the middle of third period? This has gotten really weird.
“If someone does, we stay quiet until he leaves.” He shrugs, shoves his hands in his front pockets, and watches me. “So you’re telling me the truth? You’re really okay?”
I nod, glancing around the bathroom. I’ve never been in here before, and it looks just like ours, with the exception of the three urinals hanging on the wall. “I don’t mean to be rude but…why do you care? It’s not like we’re close friends or whatever.”
“Hate to say it, but that sounded kind of rude to me,” he says with a faint smile, and I can tell he’s joking. And that he’s not afraid to call me out on my crap. “I don’t know. After we talked, I felt bad for telling you all that stuff.”
“You felt bad?”
“I didn’t mean to put theories in your head, you know? You’re friends with those girls, and here I am, coming at you with accusations against Courtney.”
True. “Do you still think she’s involved?”
“Honestly?” Our gazes meet. Hold. His expression is serious. Like, deadly serious. “Not really.”
I tilt my head. “Why?”
“It’s too obvious. She’s too obvious. I don’t think the person who killed Lex and Gretchen would act like Court does.”
“So you think the same person killed both girls.”
“Definitely. Don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Who do you think did it?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. Who do you think did it?” This conversation is kind of bizarre and feels like we’re getting nowhere.
“I have some new theories.” He says nothing else, and I figure he’s silent on purpose.
“Is that why you dragged me into the boys’ bathroom, then? To tell me you have new theories?”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he says, his voice soft.
But I’m too frustrated to pay attention to his soft voice and warm brown eyes. Forget it. I’m sort of mad now, and I don’t really understand why. “Why do you care if I’m okay? Why do you care at all? You don’t even know me.”
He takes a step back, clearly offended. “I don’t know, considering how defensive you’re acting.”
“Defensive?” My voice is rising. As in, I’m yelling. “You say words like that and I feel like you’re accusing me of something.”
He shrugs. “Take it as you will.”
I stare at him for a moment, wondering if his new theory involves…
Me.
“You’re an asshole,” I tell him before I stomp toward the door and turn the lock so I can rush outside. He doesn’t follow after me.
And he never comes back to class, either.