Of the Trees(50)
It wasn’t worth it.
Whoever was in here would just have to deal with it. She wasn’t leaving this bathroom until the bell rang, at least.
Cassie almost changed her mind when she rounded the corner of the partition and saw who it was.
Rebecca Murphy. She was bent over the sink, bringing handfuls of water to her face and splashing them over. Mascara, not a lot but enough to make dark tracks like bruises, appeared under her eyes. She looked up and caught Cassie’s stare in the mirror. Her brow contracted, and she grimaced, but Cassie found she couldn’t look away.
“Don’t know why I even bothered with the makeup today,” Rebecca murmured, breaking eye contact with Cassie and shutting off the tap.
The door behind them flung open with a bang and Cassie jumped. Four girls streamed past, stopping just ahead of her as they saw who was at the sink.
“Oh, you poor thing!” one of the exclaimed, rushing toward Rebecca. Their words were rushed and jumbled, vapid attempts at sympathy. They squawked and rambled in high pitch tones, phrases misplaced and awful streaming from their pink lips.
“Wasn’t she your best friend?”
“I just don’t know what I’d do if—”
“Did you see her that night? They said she was drinking.”
Cassie blinked, shocked at the morbidity, at the callousness of their tone, the absurdity of their questions. What was Jessica wearing that night? Who knew, who could remember? Why would that matter? Then the insinuations, questioning how they, people who had not lost anyone, who didn’t understand the grief, the chasm that must have erupted in Rebecca, how they would ever go on.
“I mean, if I lost my best friend, I’d just die, I swear!”
“Aw!”
Cassie bristled as anger surged through her. “Out!” she yelled, and when no one moved, save to send her a brief, annoyed glare, she lunged toward them and ripped one of the girls back by her hair.
“Get out!” she screamed, pulling the girl to the bathroom door. Her friends followed like magnets, screeching at her. It was deafening, their voices loud and high and echoing off the tile. The crowd in the hall was lessening, Cassie noticed as she wrenched the heavy wood door open. She shoved the one girl out, her hand firm on the door until the others followed. As soon as they were all free of the doorway, she slammed it shut, the bang reverberating off the tiles and leaving a ringing in her ears.
She pressed her back to the door, hearing a faint huff from the outside and another rude comment, but the girls left, heels clacking almost as loud as their tongues as they made their way down the hall.
In the sudden quiet of the bathroom, she heard a small sniff. She felt her knees shake and give, and Cassie let herself slide down the door until she sat on the cold floor. It was grimy and probably filthy, a stupid place to sit, but the door was secure. No one was coming, and other than the soft sniffing of Rebecca holding back tears, it was finally quiet.
“It’s been like that all morning,” Rebecca confessed. Cassie looked up. Rebecca stood just in front of the sinks; she hadn’t moved since the girls first opened the door with a bang. Her shoulders fell, and she sniffed again, swiping angrily at her building tears. She took a step forward, and then another, seeming encouraged by the steady gaze Cassie kept on her. She pressed her back to the door, sliding to sit next to Cassie, their hips just barely grazing.
“I just can’t believe this is all real,” Rebecca whispered. Words crashed together in Cassie’s head, none of them right, all of them vapid and selfish and stupid. So she didn’t let them out. She just sat, quiet and still, and listened as Rebecca’s breath got more and more erratic. She reached a hand over and clasped the stricken girl’s fingers, squeezing tightly. Rebecca broke, tears coating her cheeks. She wept freely, her forehead coming to rest on Cassie’s shoulder. Cassie sat quietly, her hand a firm lifeline, her voice silent, as a few of her own tears leaked out to join Rebecca’s.
Cassie checked the hall, making sure there were no stragglers left ditching classes before she led Rebecca out and to the main office. Jane Keller looked up from the front desk, her mouth quirking in what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic smile that came out as more of a grimace. She looked between the girls. Without a word, she put her head down, scribbling something on the paper in front of her.
“I’ll let your teachers know you’ve gone home sick,” she said, nodding toward the front door. She slid passes over the top of the desk. Cassie nodded her thanks as she took them, never so relieved to be able to get out of school.
“Let my dad know I’ll call him?”
“Will do,” she answered, shooing them out.
Cassie dragged Rebecca by her shirt sleeve. By the time they got to her car, Rebecca was shaking and silent tears shone on her cheeks again. Cassie took the keys from her friend’s hand. She opened the passenger side door and watched Rebecca slide in before crossing in front of the car. From there, she could see the bits of paper on the oak tree, the stuffed animals, and the flowers. They looked lonely. She didn’t suppose Jessica would really care either way. The wind kicked up, and Cassie shivered, actually feeling cold for the first time that day.
She headed out of town, sighing in relief when their car sped across the border. Their whole town felt tainted, and Cassie just wanted to be rid of it. She drove for twenty minutes before Rebecca spoke up, her voice croaking as she bit out her question.