Of the Trees(45)

“He kissed you?” Laney asked softly, her arm coming around her as Cassie got closer. Cassie nodded, dropping her head on Laney’s shoulder.

“A couple weeks ago,” Cassie murmured, watching Jon’s car bounce off the curb as he pulled onto the road.

“You never said,” Laney remarked, cautious. Cassie shrugged.

“Neither did he,” Cassie said, her tone unmistakably bitter. “He just kissed me and left it. I thought maybe last night, at the dance, but then his hand … ” She looked up, staring at her friend in horror.

“His hand! I didn’t even ask!”

“It looked okay,” Laney reassured. “Bandaged, but he was moving it.”

Cassie nodded dumbly and let Laney lead her to the car, all argument between the two forgotten.





The hospital was a nightmare. Cassie had always hated the place, the smell of antiseptic scented urine, the brightness of the lights and the trying-too-hard feeling of the paintings that were bolted to every wall. Everyone was always walking fast, skirting around you, something urgent and serious needing attending to. She couldn’t understand what drew her mother back, shift after shift after overtime shift, eating sandwiches from vending machines and drinking day old coffee.

It was worse today. There was a news van parked by the emergency room, flashy letters painted on the bright white side. She couldn’t believe they knew already; it felt bizarre that anyone knew, bizarre that Jessica could be dead when only hours ago she was dancing by a camp fire.

But no, Cassie mentally chastised herself, you don’t know. It might not be her.

Laney was quiet. She was quiet the entire drive, short as it was, turning the radio off and just staring hard at the road in front of her as she drove them down the back roads. Cassie wasn’t up for speaking herself. Everything, everything in the course of nine hours, had gone to shit. Ryan saw pictures of her letting some guy—some bizarre, bold, overly aggressive guy—feel her up. Jon had taken them. Jon, her friend. Jessica might be dead. And if she was, Cassie knew she’d never be convinced that she didn’t have some part of the blame in that.

The waiting room was a swarm of people. Some were pressed against the triage window, some looked like they actually were in need of medical attention, but a suspicious number had cameras and tablets and looked like they were trying to get a shot of the interior of the emergency room. Cassie tried to get the attention of one of the triage nurses, hoping to get someone to flag down her mother, but she didn’t need to bother.

Cathy Harris poked her head into the waiting room, her gaze zeroing in on her daughter. Cassie rushed toward the door she held open, dragging Laney behind her. The door shut behind them with a soft thump and Cassie turned, pleading internally for her mother to look confused. She was, but not in the way Cassie wanted her to be.

“How did you know?” Her mother asked softly, regarding Cassie in concern. Cassie’s stomach dropped.

Cathy Harris steered the girls to a small break room, the only occupant an older nurse Cassie had met once before, but who’s name she couldn’t remember. The chair felt cold and hard as Cassie fell into it. She felt her head swim with grief and pressing hard with her hands against the side of her face did nothing to contain it. She brought the note she had found at home—now all crumpled up and smudged from being clenched in her fist—out of her pocket and dropped it on the table. Cathy stiffened, looking from the table to the girls and then sighing.

“Girls, I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s really Jess?” Laney asked, her voice cracked as she said the name. Cassie could feel the heat of tears well. She swiped impatiently at her face, gritting her teeth as anger boiled up. Her mother nodded, and words erupted from Cassie, uncontrollable and swift.

Cassie could feel herself rambling, could tell her words didn’t make much sense, but she couldn’t stop herself. She told her mother about the party, about the circle in the woods that dipped low, like a basin, in the forest floor. She told her how the kids from St Paul’s were there, only she didn’t think they were from St. Paul’s now. She explained about Jude, about how she remembered him from the carnival and how she suspected the others there were really carnies, too. At this, her mother’s eyebrows rose high on her head, and the old nurse in the corner stared at her speculatively. It sounded crazy, paranoid, Cassie knew that, but with a certainty she was beginning to fear, she knew it was true.

“And you didn’t recognize them at the dance?” her mother asked.

“No, they were masked.”

“And when you got to the party, by the fire?”

“I thought I did, but it was dark, it wasn’t until later … ”

Laney had been annoyingly silent, sitting off to the side and picking at her thumbnail. Cassie kicked, glaring at her friend to contribute, but when Cathy turned to Laney, asked her what she thought, Laney had merely shrugged.

There were police, somewhere outside with Jessica’s parents, and the older nurse suggested Cassie talk to them. Her mother looked worried. Cassie sucked a deep breath through her nose and pleaded, needing to tell someone who could do something, needing to help in any way she could after spectacularly failing her friend last night. She felt the sting of tears as she thought it and swallowed hard to force them back.

The police took her to a small waiting room. There were two officers, both male. One was older, his hair thin and graying. The other was closer to her father’s age. He tapped his leg nervously against the side of the table they sat at, and Cassie couldn’t help but wonder if it was nerves after seeing Jessica’s body, or maybe just a bad morning for too much caffeine. Her mother sat with her, Laney to the side. She told them what she told her mother.