Of the Trees(53)

Cassie went to school the next day because she knew Rebecca would. They had talked about skipping. Neither of their parents would have minded. They fantasized about a day full of bad movies and ice cream, dreaming about the hours they could waste together hanging out in pajamas and eating junk food while all their classmates had to sit through lectures. In the end, they knew that it would make it just that much worse when they had to go back, and though it was depressing, they decided to tough it out together.

Cassie and Rebecca decided to meet for lunch in the bathroom, which, gross as it was, was infinitely better than trying to find a place to sit in the packed cafeteria where they would be stared at and whispered about. Cassie was also grateful to be somewhere out of range of both Laney and Ryan, who seemed to also not be speaking and therefore commandeering separate corners of the lunchroom. The girls ate mostly in silence, and even then only picking at their food. Cassie had the foresight to write an ‘Out of Order’ sign and tape it to the door. So it was quiet, at least.

The rest of the week continued, Cassie forcing herself to school each morning, blearily copying assignments and spacing through tests. The teachers seemed sympathetic, at least. Her science teacher “accidentally” dropped the pop quiz she completely failed in the trash bin and said he’d mark her as a pass instead. Cassie appreciated the effort, but she was frustrated with herself. She felt adrift, completely untethered in the maelstrom that was her high school. Rumors flew around, and she caught bits and pieces of them, most of the things she heard about herself were mortifying. She tried to stop listening.

Laney was an ever constant presence. Not just because they shared a number of classes, either. She was just there, hovering around the lockers, in her yard outside after school, at the softball field whenever Cassie would drift over to see the pathetic memorial of pink teddy bears that grew matted and gross from the elements. Cassie ignored her, hurt and angry. Laney didn’t push it, but she was around, making it known that it was Cassie’s move and that she would wait her out.

Ryan just ignored her completely.

She met Rebecca at her house Friday night, her own parents agreeing to meet them at the funeral home. Cassie rode in the back of the Murphy’s sedan, Rebecca squished next to her. Rebecca’s younger brother Jordan sat on his sister’s other side. Jordan was quiet on his best days. When Cassie had first shown up, he had barely been able to mutter hello.

They arrived half an hour before the doors would open. The line of people waiting to get in wrapped around the small Victorian house that served as the town’s only funeral home. Cassie followed Rebecca’s family around to the back of the building. Jessica’s parents had told them to come in that way.

They were let in early before the front doors opened and the stream of people who had known Jessica in passing would come to pay their respects. The back entrance was small but well lit. Inside, the cream-colored paint strove for hominess and understanding. Generic nature prints in wooden frames were spaced evenly along the walls. It was silent except for the classical music that drifted from the wall speakers in the front room and the gentle ministrations of a short, middle-aged man in a black suit. The funeral director led them to a hall where Mr. and Mrs. Evans were waiting, their backs to a closed, double door.

Jessica’s parents were white. Her father, Barry Evans, looked completely blank, distraught, but as though this was happening to some other family, like it was unreal. Her mother, Doris, couldn’t stop crying. Her skin was blotchy and red, tears leaked in a continuous stream that no tissue could staunch. They both hugged Cassie and held tight to Rebecca. Cassie looked to Jessica’s older sister, a girl she knew only in passing. She was a few years older than her sister. Her jaw was set, and she stared forward, offering a tight smile when Cassie moved closer.

“Anna, I’m so sorry,” Cassie said. A vast sadness bloomed in the older girl’s eyes and she nodded. Cassie couldn’t help but feel the words were woefully inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say.

Rebecca and Cassie followed the family, Rebecca’s parents close behind them, as they filed through the double doors and into the room where Jessica’s body was. The casket gleamed silver and black in the back of the room, standing three feet in front of the lines of maroon-cushioned folding chairs. There were bouquets and rings of flowers surrounding her. Cassie could read the ribbons erupting from them.

Friend. Daughter. Sister.

Vague and generalized interpretations of who Jessica really was. Just like at the oak tree by the softball field. There were several dozen pink flowers—carnations and roses and tulips. By her head, a large bouquet of wildflowers sprang out of a golden basket. Cassie thought they were the most appropriate, something that Jessica would have actually liked. She was glad they were at her head, closest to her.

The lid was propped open, and Cassie kept her eyes lowered, not yet ready to see her friend. Mrs. Evans sobbed once, a short, wretched sound that echoed in the empty, cream-colored room. The family converged on the casket and Cassie hung back with Rebecca and her parents. Jordan lingered at Cassie’s back; she could feel him shifting just behind her.

The moments stretched and eventually Anna put her arm around her mother, turning her from the sight of her youngest daughter lying still in that coffin. Mr. Evans stepped back, and his wife and daughter moved next to him. Rebecca’s parents went up next, kneeling silently at the small padded bar left before the coffin. Their heads bent, and Cassie could see, for the first time, the pale and waxy skin of her friend.