Dear Cassie Part 8

What happened on prom night and after is more than evidence of that.

21 f.u.c.king Days to Go T oday was hiking again. Hiking was important because apparently we were going to do a lot of it when we stopped training.

If we ever stop training.

I'm still not sure what we were training for. Not like we could ask, but Rawe never told us. Maybe she knew we wouldn't train very hard if she did.

Our hike started early-b.u.t.t crack of dawn early. I never truly understood what that meant until I got here. The never-ending horizon of the wilderness was the b.u.t.t crack of a giant, the sun peeking through like a wink from one of his big white cheeks. We had a long, tiring day ahead of us. That would have been bad enough, more than bad enough, but of course, the boys were waiting at attention for us at the trailhead. They stood in a line: Nerone, the guys next to him in order of height. Ben was in the middle, grinning at me like someone behind him was pulling back his skin.

"Claire, what's with the smile?" Rawe asked.

"Just ready to hike with my fellow hikers," Ben said.

"You look deranged," I said.

"You look like you'd be into deranged." He smirked, daring me.

"No more talking," Nerone yelled.

I smirked back, thinking Ben was lucky that Nerone had told us to be quiet. Not that I had any idea how to respond. I was into deranged.

Nez was clearly drooling. She was like a vampire, but instead of blood she craved boys, needed them in the same sick, singular way. If she wasn't starting to p.i.s.s me off so much, I might have actually felt bad for her.

"I hope Ben can still walk after the other night," Nez said.

Well, actually, probably not.

"Move out," Nerone said, leading the way.

We walked boy, girl, boy, girl, Nerone's square head the front of the gangly brown animal we made and Rawe's tight braid like our tail all the way in the back. Nez made a big deal about wanting to walk behind Andre so she could stare at his a.s.s.

Whatever. It was fine if she wanted to drool all over Andre, because I didn't have to fight with her about walking behind Ben. I would have to try to ignore his a.s.s, because I wanted some cigarettes.

I needed some cigarettes.

I didn't say anything at first. I guess I was still trying to figure out if Ben had really been with Nez. Watching him march in front of me and play air drums against the sunrise, it didn't seem possible. Watching his arms, as thick and strong as the branches on the trees around us, it was hard to believe. Sure, Nez said they did, but it's not like I trusted her.

I watched her walking behind Andre. She moved like a boa constrictor, surveying Andre's a.s.s like it was prey. She would probably swallow it whole if she could. She would probably grab him from behind and throw him into the ferns that grew waist-high on the sides of the trail.

I listened to the crunch of sticks and shuffle of leaves below me. The birds in the trees above me were singing bird songs to each other and talking their bird way of talking. I couldn't help thinking about Amy and that stupid parrot she had.

I was in her pink bedroom only once. Apparently her mother hated me, hated me so much that I wasn't allowed back after I was invited to Amy's house once for a dinner that her mother hadn't even bothered to cook. I can remember that bird squawking and talking the whole time we were in Amy's room. It repeated the things Amy said, the things I said-as annoyingly as a little brother mimicking you-and the cage made her whole room smell like bird a.s.s.

I remember saying, "How can you f.u.c.king think with that thing in here?"

And she said, "I can't; that's the point," her face sad.

I didn't understand it then. Thought it was another of her weird Amy-isms. But I totally got it now. I would keep anything near me if it were loud enough to make me not think, even if it s.h.i.+t on my shoulder sometimes.

Even if it made me smell like bird a.s.s.

I looked up. A flock of them flew from one tree to another. They moved again to the next tree and the next, like they were following us as we hiked.

I looked at Ben still walking in front of me. It was now or never. Well, it was now or two miles from now.

"What's with those birds?" I asked-not that I really cared, but I needed to say something to him.

"We're scaring them, so they keep moving," he said.

"Why should they be scared when we're way down here?" I asked.

"I don't know, Ca.s.sie," he said. "Why are you scared?"

I felt my legs stop. My chest go cold. What the h.e.l.l was this? "I'm not," I said, forcing myself to walk again. "I'm not scared of anything," I lied.

"Okay, whatever." Ben didn't turn to look at me, but I could hear a smile in his voice.

Was this what Aaron had done to me? Could boys now sense that I would cringe at their touch? At even the thought of their touch?

f.u.c.k.

"Did you and Nez have a good time?" I asked, trying to show how not scared I was. I figured I should get that out of the way before I asked about the cigarettes. I guess I also thought he would be more likely to give me one if I brought up his beautiful Nez first.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"N-nothing," I sputtered. "Nez said-"

As if she knew we were talking about her, she started skipping down the trail, like there were f.u.c.king gumdrops and lollipops on either side of her.

"Nez is fun," Ben said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Spare me," I said.

"What?" He shrugged. "She doesn't let things get to her."

"That's because there's always a boy on top of her. 'Things' can't get through," I said.

"I thought you didn't want to talk." He spoke with his back to me. His hair moved up and down like a mustache when he talked. "Or maybe you really do," he cooed.

I considered launching him into a blackberry briar but looked behind me instead. Leisner was there, his feet pounding the trail like two sledgehammers, his curly blond hair as p.u.b.erific as ever. He wagged his tongue out like he was trying to make his beard grow by adding saliva.

"You wish," I said.

"I think Ben wishes," Leisner guffawed.

"Tell it to Nez," I said.

"Oh, I will," he said, his tongue still hanging out of his mouth. I looked up, wis.h.i.+ng that one of those birds following us would take a c.r.a.p right then.

I guess Nez's reputation was getting around. "Have fun getting herpes," I said.

Behind Leisner, Troyer was making a gun out of her hand and shooting him repeatedly in the head with it. I smiled at her. She smiled back and pretended to blow on the hot gun barrel before sticking it in her pocket. She didn't even talk and she was probably the most entertaining person here. Well, besides me, of course.

Eagan hiked behind her, his braces s.h.i.+ning in the sun and probably catching gnats like the grill of a car on a road trip. I could hear him talking about how many poisonous species of plants existed on this hiking trail, then pointing out each one by its scientific name. I was surprised Troyer wasn't pretending to shoot herself. I was surprised Rawe wasn't telling him to zip it and making him do push-ups with his mouth open on top of those poisonous plants, but maybe she was glad someone was doing something other than talking about boys and b.i.t.c.hing.

I turned back to Ben. I was so tired and I so wanted a cigarette. Maybe that was the thing I could use to not make me think, like Amy and her stupid, smelly bird. Maybe I could smoke a ton of cigarettes and suffocate myself into oblivion, feel the feeling of holding my breath for so long that the area in between my ears whirs like a blender, spins up my brain like one. It was either that or suffocate myself in the pit toilet.

"Hey," I whispered. "I hear you got smokes."

"Who told you that, Ca.s.sie?" Ben asked, adding my name to p.i.s.s me off.

I ignored it. He was going to make me ask, make me beg. Maybe I deserved that, but it wasn't like he knew it. For all he knew I was just some girl who didn't like being called Ca.s.sie.

"I want one," I said.

"No 'please'?" he asked, his voice almost purring.

I looked all the way to the front of the line at Nerone. Luckily, he was too far ahead to hear us and was reciting some marching call that no one was responding to.

"You're not serious," I said.

"I think 'please' is the least you could say, Ca.s.sie," Ben added, lingering on my name.

"What does that mean?" I asked, even though I figured he meant that I hadn't thanked him for saving me, at least not like Nez supposedly had.

"Your choice is between 'please' or what I really want to know," he said.

Super. It was worse than that-we were back to him pestering me about why I was here. Ben was nothing if not insanely fixated.

"Fine, please," I said, so fast it was like I barely said the word at all.

"Hmmmm . . ." he said, acting like he was thinking about it. "No."

I felt my stomach roll. He wouldn't have said yes, no matter what I did. He'd just wanted to make me say please.

a.s.shole.

He started to smack his thighs and whistle like those f.u.c.king birds.

"Why do you want to know why I'm here so badly?" I asked, even though it would have been simple: pot, arrest, the whole long prom night story. But I didn't want to tell him that. Because I knew it was a lie, knew there was more to why I was here. The reason that I carried, so ma.s.sive it felt like it could bend me in two, pummel me to dust.

The reason why no matter how much I denied it, I was scared of Ben.

I couldn't deny that after what had happened with Aaron, boys scared me a little. Not because of what they could do, but because of the out-of-control things they made me do.

"You're not telling me your secrets," he said. "Why should I tell you mine?" He stopped and turned around to look at me. Maybe he wanted to see my face, or maybe he wanted me to see his. I tried to walk around him and he blocked me. I turned. Leisner and the rest of them were at least a quarter of a mile behind us. There was no escape except to talk.

"Move," I said. I tried to walk around him, but he was as unmovable as the tree trunks that lined the trail.

"Say please," he teased, leaning toward me.

"One more step and you'll be begging me," I said, starting to form a fist. I couldn't stop looking at his lips. My skin burned like the sun above us was in my blood. I needed to stay the h.e.l.l away from him, even though he had something I wanted so desperately. Even though I couldn't stop thinking about how his arms had held me tighter than they needed to in the lake.

"You really think you could beat me up, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course," I said, my hand still a tight fist.

"Tough and beautiful, a lethal combination," he said.

"You've got the lethal part right," I said.

"Less talking more hiking," Nerone yelled, only noticing us when we stopped and our voices rose. "Each word I hear will be an extra half mile."

"If you want the cigarettes, come and get them," Ben whispered. "They are under my mattress waiting for you."

"I take that as a challenge," I said.

"Take it however you want. It will still mean you're coming to my cabin at night." Ben shrugged, a sucks to be you move, and started walking again.

I am getting those cigarettes if I have to kill him to get them.

It is clear that killing him is becoming my only safe option.

20 f.u.c.king Days to Go I 've been sparing this journal some of the c.r.a.p we have to do. I mean, I am bored out of my gourd as it is, so I'm doing my best not to have to relive all of it. There is very little of what I'd expected rehab to be-which is good; it's not like I wanted people talking to me about my feelings.

Each night Rawe just gives us a lecture on some aspect of our f.u.c.ked-up lives and tells us to write about it, which, Screw me, I just realized is actually sort of working.

There is a lot of hiking, marching, waiting in line. There is a lot of trying to forget. There is a lot of watching Nez talk and watching Troyer not talk. There is a lot of walking past locked buildings that I know have flush-toilets and running water inside and not being allowed to enter them. There is a lot of smelling my armpits on days Rawe doesn't let us shower and then wis.h.i.+ng I hadn't. There is a lot of pretending that Ben isn't getting to me even though he is.

But mostly, there is a lot of wondering if I'll ever feel better even after I leave this place.

If this is what I am now-a girl who used to know who she was, who used to be able to make people afraid of her, but is now only scared of herself.

Of what she will do if she lets one more boy in.

Rawe led us up the hill to the stables. Even though the horses were long gone, it still had that stable smell. Like fresh dirt and sweet hay right up your nose. Like dirty hair. I wished the horses were still there. I hated a lot of things, but I loved horses. How big, beautiful, graceful, and calm they were.

How unlike me they were.

My brother loved riding and would take me sometimes when I was a kid, boosting me up into the saddle. I would hold onto the horn in front of me and the horse would start walking under me like magic.

Like a magic earthquake.

My brother and I would ride trails, him in front, the clomp of horse hooves on the ground. His horse would swish its tail every so often at a fly, one side of its b.u.t.t moving up while the other moved down like a seesaw. Back then it was easy to pretend we were in a fairy tale, in another time. And it was easy to believe while we were riding those horses, as magnificent as dinosaurs.

Now, I was just in an abandoned stable, waiting to get the h.e.l.l out of this place.

We walked from the dirt-covered ring to the stables and Rawe turned on the lights. They made that humming noise that lights that haven't been turned on in a while make. They were bright and made me squint with the realization that the empty, smelly stable had better lights than our own cabin did.