I breathed a sigh of relief. Logan seemed to be willing to sweep this under the rug, and I was more than happy to oblige.
I’m sorry too. I promise to keep my bitchiness in check next time. What channel?
Logan texted me the channel that was airing Rear Window, and I flicked on my television and turned to it. We were both big Hitchcock fans, and Rear Window was one of my favorite movies. I wasn’t surprised when moments later, my phone rang. Logan and I had watched TV together more than a few times over the phone. I had never really thought twice about it before, but now I realized that it was probably a part of us being too dependent on each other. That realization didn’t stop me from answering his call.
He sounded tentative at first, but soon we were both engrossed in the movie. We didn’t talk much except to make a few comments about the film, but it was comforting to know that he was on the other end of the line. I lay down on the couch and put my phone next to me. I could hear the sounds of the movie echoing from his side, and it made me feel closer to him.
“Did you fall asleep?” he asked when the credits started to roll.
“No, I’m still here.” Now that we no longer had the movie to talk about, I was struggling to think of something to say.
“Thanks for watching the movie with me. I have some work that needs to get done, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” Logan sounded uncertain, which was uncharacteristic of him. He seemed to move through life so confident and self-assured that it was odd to hear him so tentative.
“Sure,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I felt oddly bereft when he disconnected the call, but told myself I was being ridiculous. If I didn’t want to lose Logan as a friend, I had better set some boundaries. Otherwise, I had a bad feeling that our friendship would veer severely off-track, never to be recovered. And not having Logan in my life was something I didn’t want to consider.
Chapter Five
I woke up with a scream lodged in my throat and the cold fingers of a terrifying nightmare still pulling at me. My clothes were soaked with sweat, and I gasped for breath. I forced myself to focus on my surroundings, telling myself that it was nothing but a dream. I took long, shuddering breaths, trying to slow my erratic pulse.
Dawn was on the brink of breaking, bathing my bedroom in an eerie, pale light. It had been a while since I had dreamed about Cassie. I welcomed the dreams that were happy memories of the past. I dreaded the ones that were nightmares about her death. Unfortunately, I had woken up from the latter.
I glanced at the clock and saw that it was barely five o’clock in the morning. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to blot out the visions that crowded my mind by focusing on the good memories of Cassie. I remembered the first time I had seen her. I had walked into the fifth-grade classroom, so nervous that I could’ve sworn my knees were knocking together. As a painfully shy ten-year-old, there was nothing more terrifying than having twenty sets of curious eyes studying me while the teacher introduced me.
I clearly remembered focusing on Cassie in the crowd of students. It was hard not to notice her because she stood out, even then. Her blonde hair was so shiny that it practically gave her a halo and flowed down her back in golden waves. She had a barrette clipped on each side, and I remembered wishing that my mousey brown hair would cascade like hers. I immediately recognized her as one of the special people. The type of person everybody flocked to and wanted to be friends with.
She had smiled at me when I passed by her desk on my way to my designated seat in the back of the classroom. I had looked at her blankly, confused by her friendliness, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning mentally kicking myself for not smiling back. I was naturally introverted and at an awkward stage, and I had been flummoxed by her gesture of friendliness. I told myself that her smile didn’t mean anything because I doubted she needed any more friends.
I was right in my assessment when I saw the other girls competing to sit next to her at lunch. We were assigned tables by class, and I sat at the end of ours, a few seats away from the rest of the group. I tried to concentrate on eating my sandwich, but my stomach was roiling from nervousness and embarrassment. I had no one to talk to, no friend to whisper secrets to, and I felt like an outcast.
I had dumped most of my lunch untouched in the trashcan and gone outside for recess. I sat near the swings on the wooden boundary that ran the perimeter of the playground, apart from everyone else. I was trying to look engrossed in digging at the dirt with the toe of my shoe when I saw a shadow fall over me. I looked up, and there she was, smiling down at me like we were already friends.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Cassie Brooks.”
“Hi. I’m Madison Bailey.” I winced at how squeaky my voice sounded, but I smiled to try to mask my nervousness. I was surprised when Cassie sat down next to me.
“Where did you move from?”
“Indiana. My dad and I moved here ‘cause he got a new job.”
Cassie cocked her head at my statement. “What about your mom?”
I felt my face getting hot from embarrassment. I hated explaining about my mother because people either felt sorry for me or thought I was weird. I hated both reactions. “She doesn’t live with us. She left when I was little.”
Cassie nodded her head with more understanding than was to be expected from a ten-year-old. “My Uncle Richard left, so my cousin Robbie only has a mom now.”
I was unsure of how to respond, so I just stayed silent.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I shook my head. “No. What about you?”
“I’m a lonely only, too!” she said enthusiastically, as if she had just found out we were twins that had been separated at birth. “Cool!”
She dug into her pocket and opened her hand to reveal two Hershey Kisses.
“Want one?” she asked. “Kellie gave them to me because she wants me to go over to her house today.” She rolled her eyes, looking more like an adult than a child. “I hate going to her house. She always makes me play pretend with her lame Barbies. I’m a little too old for that.”