Teen Hyde (High School Horror Story #2)(42)

“Okay, then, Liam. If you touch me again, you’ll come away without any fingers.” He gargled as I pressed hard one more time and then released him. “Besides, this place is dead.”

I shoved my way through the group, not caring if I stepped on toes or knocked an elbow into someone’s rib. On the way out of Paisley’s house, I closed the door so hard, I heard the crash of china as it shattered on marble behind me. I felt as though my heart was separating from my chest, as though my humanity was shattering into a trillion tiny pieces lying scattered on the ground, as though I was getting stronger with every step. Taking over.

Once in my car, I jammed my foot on the accelerator. The wheels spun and the scent of burnt rubber sprung from the asphalt. I peeled away from Paisley’s house feeling like I’d burned more than my tires. I’d burned the bridges to Cassidy’s life. And soon, nothing could raise it from the ash.





FIFTEEN

Cassidy

“Cassidy, what are you doing? We’re here.” Honor unfastened her seat belt.

I blinked and my eyes felt scratchy and dry, like I’d been staring off into space. “Huh?”

She nodded and gave me a you’re crazy look. “We’re at school,” she said in a tone like I couldn’t understand English. “Aren’t you coming?”

I looked around. Outside of my windshield a typical morning at Hollow Pines High was taking place. The bright light of day burned my pupils. I squinted and fished around the side compartment for a pair of sunglasses. “When—how—?” I stammered because I had no recollection of driving here. Like at all.

I stared out at the students filing into the school building and rifled through my memory for the last solid one I could find. As soon as I located it, my insides lurched. The duct tape. The hidden keys. The cough syrup.

It took a moment for that to all sink in. When it did, it wasn’t pretty.

“Crap,” I said, which felt like a totally inane thing to say given the circumstances. “Crap,” I repeated, lowering my forehead to the steering wheel. The horn blared.

I tried to steady my breathing while something like hysteria began to stampede around in my chest. How did I get here? What was I doing? Focus, Cassidy. Try to remember. You must have gotten up this morning. Gone through your morning routine …

Honor yanked me back by my shoulders. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “You’re embarrassing me. Scratch that, you’re embarrassing you.”

Honor squirmed in her seat and looked around to see if anyone was watching.

She leaned toward me. Her hazel eyes searched mine. “What are you freaking out about? You haven’t said a word all morning.”

Cue: another round of terror. It wasn’t the obvious kind that had me reaching for a paper bag to breathe into. That kind of terror would be far, far better. Instead, this panic was like a thousand termites hatching eggs inside my throat, multiplying and gnawing at my fleshy guts.

“I—I haven’t?” I held my hands in front of my face. Sure enough, they were trembling.

She gritted her teeth together. “You’re being weird again.” She said it with the air of a childish playground insult.

But this was real. I was losing control. I racked and racked my brain, but I didn’t even have a flash of brushing my teeth this morning or putting on my deodorant.

I looked down to study what I was wearing. I was dressed in a pair of tight black denim jeans, a fitted black tank, a dark hoodie, and lace-up boots that I bought for a Halloween costume two years ago. “What is this outfit?” I asked, pinching the tank top’s fabric off my stomach.

Honor’s mouth twisted. “I don’t know. I figured you were making, like, a statement or something.” For her part, Honor was dressed in a delicate cream cardigan and a knee-length plaid skirt.

“Of what?” I exclaimed.

She gave an exaggerated shrug as though I was missing the point entirely. “Who cares. Everybody will probably be copying your outfit by tomorrow anyway. But the tragic teen thing? That is getting a little old.”

I tilted my head back and laughed, not caring if I sounded like a catatonic lunatic. “Oh, it’s getting old, is it? I’m sorry, Honor, that my little phase”—I curled my fingers into air quotes—“isn’t quite working for you.” Honor’s face fell.

I let my foot off the brake. The car gave a little bump as it settled into park.

“I—I’m sorry,” I said. My sister looked as though she was frightened I was about to tell her that the Easter bunny didn’t exist.

The Easter bunny didn’t exist. There were no magical Homecoming nights or balloon-arch fairy tales. No matter what I did, I was losing my grip on everything that was mine.

“I just need a second to think.” I pressed two fingers to my temples and rubbed, hard.

“Cassidy, you’re scaring me.” Honor hugged her arms across her stomach.

I turned to her and put my hands on her shoulders. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to scare you. Everything’s fine. I just … felt a little faint is all.”

Honor’s forehead relaxed, ironing out the wrinkles. “Maybe you should call in sick.”

Something about her worry had shifted me into the calm one. Take charge. I could do this. “And miss the first game of the play-offs? I think not.”