Of the Trees(59)

Cassie cleared her throat, hiding her anguish from her friend. “Ryan is?” she asked stupidly. To her surprise, Laney laughed.

“Well, yes, though Aidan is too, I suppose.” She grinned over at Cassie. “I was going to meet them. But I wanted to spend the morning with you.”

Cassie let out a snort of a laugh. “Doing what?”

Laney shrugged, smiling sadly. “Anything. It’s been a while. And, you just never know, right?”

“Never know what?”

“How long any of us has.”

Cassie swallowed hard, images of Jessica flashing through her mind. She reached out and grabbed at Laney’s hand, squeezing hard. “I’m glad you came over last night.”

Laney squeezed back. “Me, too.”

“Will you tell me what you think happened to Jess?”

Laney paused, her mouth opening and closing reflexively. “I want you to think about it today, think about if you really want to know. Because once you do, you can’t not know it.”

“Of course I—” Cassie cut off when Laney tightened her grip on her fingers.

“Think about Ryan. And Aidan. Think about how you feel and what you want. Me and Aidan, or not knowing and Ryan.”

“I have to lump you with Aidan?” Cassie asked. Laney smiled sadly.

“Well, double-dating would be easier.” Cassie laughed weakly at Laney’s poor attempt at a joke. The girls settled in bed again, laying quietly with their thoughts as the rest of the world started to rouse.





Cassie and Laney spent the morning doing the most mundane things. They ate cereal and watched cartoons, laughing and dribbling milk at the absurdity of the shows they used to enjoy together as kids. They baked a peanut butter pie, for no other reason other than Laney had always wanted to. It turned out horribly; Laney read out the wrong amount of salt and told Cassie to add a cup and a half instead of a tablespoon and a half. Cassie had blamed her for reading the recipe wrong, and Laney had laughed and said that, no it was Cassie’s fault because what recipe ever called for a cup and a half of salt? Her mother had walked into the kitchen as the girls were spitting salty peanut butter pie into the sink and laughed at them, telling them they were both idiots. They just shrugged and accepted it.

Cassie had texted Rebecca after breakfast, asking if she wanted to come over for the day, but she declined. Her family was going to go away again, probably trying to get a break from the pall of the death that hung over their town. Cassie wished her a good time and said she’d see her Monday.

“How’s she doing?” Laney murmured, watching Cassie type out her responses. Cassie shrugged.

“Not great.”

Laney didn’t say anything else about Ryan or Aidan or the carnies. For the moment, Cassie was happy to let it lie. Part of her craved the regression, the sinking into childhood worries with Laney. They argued over what to eat for lunch and which show to watch. They sprawled out on her couch, Laney’s feet squirming into her side and pushing her into the corner until she had taken over the entire thing. She laughed when Cassie pointed that out to her, supremely unconcerned.

It wasn’t until the afternoon that Laney mentioned she would be leaving soon to meet up with Corey. She looked to Cassie in speculative consideration. “Are you coming?”

“To meet up with Corey and Aidan?” Cassie asked, stuttering a bit over his name.

“To learn the truth, know what happened.”

“It’s not safe.”

“I promise you, you will be,” Laney answered. Cassie believed her.





The police tape still fluttered in the breeze that kicked through the trees. The cemetery was silent and still. Cassie had agreed to come with her, to follow Laney back into the woods, but it now felt idiotic. They should have the police with them. What use was knowing the truth if no one would believe her anyway?

“This is a terrible idea.” It came out as a whisper, but it should have been a shout. Laney shifted forward, pushing the bramble to the side. It whipped back toward Cassie, her hands didn’t catch it in time.

The forest was dead, more silent than she could ever remember. There was no skittering of random insects on the decayed forest floor, no animals shuffling through the fallen leaves. Birds flew silent or not at all. It felt as though winter had come early, autumn forgotten or canceled altogether.

And the deeper into the woods they went, the worse it got.

“Not far now,” Laney murmured. Her tone was soft and low, and Cassie wasn’t sure she was even meant to have heard. Laney had told her she could come, told her she would explain, but now barely registered her existence. Cassie sped up, paced closer to her friend until she could reach out and grab her. Her fingers closed, soft and warm, around her friend’s wrist. Laney’s reaction was immediate; she drew back, spun and stared at Cassie as though she had burned her, her eyes fierce and unrecognizable in their intensity. It made Cassie stop too, drag a deep breath as she looked into the stare that she had known forever and now couldn’t recognize.

“We’re almost there,” Laney said, her tone monochromatic, flat. The change from just hours ago, laughing and playing in her living room, to now, was frightening. Her fanatical gaze pierced Cassie to the spot.

The woods were silent around her, oppressive, like she was standing in a vacuum, sucked deeper and deeper by the chasm of Laney’s stare.