“It’s like this tiny sub-thing in EI, not exactly something the world is holding their breath waiting to find out. Anyway, my dad ran his test trying to see if people could read feelings differently or better, I guess, if they were watching a live conversation between two other people instead of by looking at pictures of people’s faces, which is how they usually test it.”
“And?” Jasper asks, like he’s waiting for the big reveal that the study showed something amazing. He’s going to be disappointed, just like my dad.
“It’s not that exciting,” I say. “He learned some small things. But it’s not like he cured cancer or something.”
“Ouch,” Jasper says. “Way to take a man down at the knees.”
And he’s right. That was harsh. But that is the way I feel: annoyed. More than I realized. Even if he didn’t know it at the time—couldn’t have—my dad wasted the little time he had left with my mom. Instead of being with her and being happy, he was obsessed with yet another stupid study that no one is ever going to care about. And now she’s gone. And now, no matter what he does, he can never make up that lost time to her. Or us.
I shrug. “It’s important to him, I guess.” I can feel Jasper still staring at me, and I want him to stop. I want to change the subject before I start bawling my face off. “I just wish other things had been as important.”
My phone vibrates again in my hand then. I brace myself for another message from my dad. But it’s Cassie, finally. Take Exit 39C off 93. Onto Route 203. More soon.
My heart picks up speed as I type a response. Are you okay?? What’s going on?
Can’t talk now. Not safe. It’s an answer, at least. Just not the one I was hoping for.
“What is it?” Jasper asks.
“She wants us to get off at Exit 39C.” I check the GPS on my phone. “It’s about forty minutes away.”
“And that’s it? She didn’t tell you anything else?” That anger is back in his voice. He’s not shouting or anything, but it’s there. Beneath the surface. Makes me wonder how deep it goes.
“‘More soon,’ she said. And that it’s not safe to write more right now.”
“So that’s it?” he asks. “We just keep driving?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “No,” he says finally, his voice beaten down. “I do not have any better ideas. I don’t know what the hell we should be doing. Sometimes, I don’t even feel like I know her anymore.”
He sounds like me now, which I find both comforting and suspicious. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“I do think Cassie really misses you,” he says. “She wouldn’t admit it. You know how she is, stubborn like that.” And I do know, but it feels weird that Jasper does, too. “But she was sort of lost without you.” He almost sounds hurt or jealous or something, and I try not to be too happy about that.
“I wasn’t the easiest person to be friends with lately.” And I’d rather just pretend that’s why she and I aren’t talking. Anything else is going to lead straight back to the truth and to how little I really think of Jasper.
“I don’t know,” Jasper says. “Isn’t that what best friends are for? To hang in there when the going gets rough?”
Wait, did Cassie tell him she couldn’t deal with me anymore? Did she say that was why we’re not friends anymore? Was that the way she really felt? Because here I’ve been thinking all along that I’d drawn my line in the sand about Cassie’s behavior. That that was why we were no longer friends. But maybe the real truth is that Cassie got tired of me long ago? My cheeks flush when Jasper looks over at me like he wants to hear my side of the Cassie debacle. But I’ve gone too fast from self-righteous to dumped to talk any more about anything.
“What was your fight about anyway?” I ask, deflecting. There is still plenty Jasper is to blame for. “Maybe that has something to do with this?”
“I hope not.” Jasper sounds guilty again. “Anyway, it wasn’t even really a fight. It was more me yelling and Cassie crying.” He shakes his head, frowns. “Even while it was happening, I felt like it had to be someone else standing there in front of the Mobil station, screaming at his girlfriend. Has that ever happened to you? Where you can see yourself doing something, like, from the outside?” Jasper glances over at me. This is apparently a real question he wants an actual answer to.
“Everyone feels that way sometimes,” I say, even though I don’t like the feel of letting him off the hook for something that sounds potentially so messed up. “Anyway, I’m not exactly an expert on normal.”
Immediately, I wish I hadn’t said that second part out loud.
“Well, only an asshole keeps on yelling when the other person is standing there crying—no matter what she did. The crazy thing is that the whole time I was yelling, I was thinking, ‘This is the kind of thing my brother does. It’s the kind of thing my—I don’t do this.’” He shakes his head. “I never used to, anyway.”
Why is Jasper confessing this to me? It’s obviously not going to make me like him more. Unless he’s sharing this little bad thing to cover up for something much bigger and badder.
“Why were you yelling at her?” I ask. “You said she did something?”
“She’s been cheating on me,” he says, quiet and sad. “For a while now. I’m ninety-nine percent sure.”
“There’s no way,” I almost laugh. Because that is ridiculous. Being with Jasper was a total prize for Cassie. Complete validation of her worth. As much as I hate knowing that, it’s true. Why would she cheat on him? “Why do you think that?”
“A feeling.” He shrugs. “I might not be the best at reading people, but Cassie was texting somebody all the time and hiding it. But that wasn’t the only reason I lost it on her. She’s also gotten way out of hand lately. I was trying to get her to dial it back. And she freaked out. Said I was trying to control her. And I felt like, screw you, I’m trying to help you.”
“What do you mean, ‘out of hand’?”
“You know, partying and whatever,” he says.
“Partying?” I say, like I have no idea what that could mean. Like I haven’t been worried about the exact same thing.
“Cassie was getting way too wasted, way too often.”
“And you’re morally opposed?” I try not to sound snide. And totally fail. I go on, trying to pretend that’s not what I meant. “I mean, you go to parties all the time.”
“Yeah, going out and being out of control are two totally different things.”
“And Cassie was out of control?”
I want to hear him say it. Like it’ll be some key. Because if Cassie turned on Jasper for telling her the exact same thing, doesn’t that prove I was right?
“Cassie was way out of control,” he says. “And it was scaring the crap out of me. Didn’t you see that?”
He sounds confused now, like he’s afraid maybe he imagined Cassie going off the deep end. And as much as I kind of like us going back to a world where Jasper gets that I know Cassie better than he ever will, this doesn’t seem like a good time for that kind of lie.
I nod. “I saw it. And it scared the crap out of me, too.”
We drive on in silence, for what feels like the whole of the length of New Hampshire, the exits slowly clicking up to 39C. And the whole time, I try to decide whether Jasper agreeing with me about Cassie being off the rails makes me more worried or less, while trying hard not to think about how long it will be before my emergency exception escape valve suddenly stops working and my anxiety floods back, waterlogging my lungs. Somewhere, a clock is ticking down. The only real question is what will happen when it reaches zero.
At its worst, there is no keeping my panic private. These days, the throwing up is mostly a bullet I’ve learned to dodge. But the passing out is still always a messed-up possibility.
The first time it happened was in a diner on a family road trip to the Four Corners the summer before eighth grade. That summer, restaurants were my panic button d
u jour. Stepping inside one was hard enough, forget about eating. The second we were in the breezy Gloria’s Café in Chinle, Arizona, I could feel something wasn’t right. But it wasn’t until I got up to go to the bathroom that I realized how bad off I was. I’d only gotten a few steps when the floor pitched hard to the left and the world went full-on black. I wasn’t out long. But passing out was freaky and embarrassing, and I’d worked hard to avoid a repeat performance. Still, there have been at least a half-dozen times in the years since that I’ve failed. I’m not looking for lucky number seven to be when I’m with Jasper.
The Exit 39C sign finally appears up ahead.
“Now what?” Jasper asks.
We’re at Exit 39C. Where now? I type.
Luckily, Cassie answers right away.
Get off onto Route 203 and wait. Trying to figure out address. More soon.
Cassie, you have to tell us something. What is going on? Who are you with?
I wait. But there is no other reply.
“What’s up?” Jasper asks.
“I told her she had to tell us something.”
“Good,” he says. “She does.”
Finally, another text. They don’t—got2g
“What did she say?”
“‘They don’t,’” I read. “And ‘got to go.’”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jasper looks over at me, his eyebrows bunched.
“Maybe she was kidnapped.” And I feel much worse once I’ve said it out loud. “I mean, she’s obviously with somebody, more than one person, it sounds like.”
I imagine some kind of roving band of hippies that Cassie joined up with. Maybe now that she’s with them at their commune, they have turned vaguely creepy. Cassie would want to keep things friendly. She’d be smart enough to seem game until she makes a run for it. I try to keep picturing this, instead of the many terrible alternatives, like a group of tattooed men with Cassie tied up somewhere.
“That does not sound good,” Jasper says as we pull to a stop at the bottom of the steep exit ramp. “‘They’ does not sound good. Not good at all.”
The only sign of life in the pitch-black distance is the glow from a gas station up the hill to the right: Clark’s Auto and Freshmart. At least it looks open. Good news at almost nine thirty in middle-of-nowhere New Hampshire. If we’re even still in New Hampshire anymore. I didn’t see any sign that we’d crossed into Maine or Vermont even, but it’s possible that I missed it.
“Let’s go wait there,” I say. “Cassie will have to give us an address eventually if she wants us to find her.”
“If she really wants us to find her,” Jasper says quietly. He glances in my direction as he turns right at the stop sign.
“What do you mean?”
“Listen, I’d take her cheating on me at this point as long as she’s okay, but don’t you think all of this is just a little suspicious?” he asks. “Especially with her being kind of, just coincidentally, pissed off at both of us already? And now, here we are. Together in the middle of freakin’ nowhere? Maybe she just wants us to look and look for her. Until we’re the ones who are lost.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” I say, even as my heart speeds up. “And she’s not mad at me. We’re not in a fight.”
At least I didn’t think we were. Obviously things weren’t normal even when Cassie came back after the accident. Ours was a zombie friendship then. It looked kind of right from a distance, but up close the wrongness was obvious. And yeah, Cassie did just kind of drift away again a few weeks ago without any explanation. But to be honest, I was kind of relieved. It was a lot of pressure after the accident trying to pretend that she was making me feel better. No one ever could have.
“We weren’t in a fight,” I say again. I don’t even know why, except it feels important to emphasize.
“Great, but I’d rather have the truth be that she’s messing with us,” he says. “Because I do not have a good feeling about any of this.”
I’d been hoping that was just me. Because my bad feelings don’t usually mean a thing.
As we head up the road toward the gas station, my phone rings again. When I look down, it says Dad on the caller ID. What if I am putting my dad through this all for some game that Cassie is playing? He doesn’t deserve that. And we’re far enough away now, too far away for him to stop me. Besides, nothing good is going to come from him getting more and more freaked out. Once he hears I’m fine, he’ll calm down at least some.
“Hi, Dad.” I try to sound casual. I do not. “Did you find anything at Cassie’s house?”
“Where are you, Wylie?” He’s trying to sound calm, too, but he’s doing an even worse job than me. “Gideon said that Cassie’s boyfriend Jasper was here and that you left with him? Your text said that the two of you had heard from Cassie. That she asked you to come get her?”
Crap. I forgot that I told him that. I’d done that to calm him down, too, which obviously hadn’t worked. I never should have written that, never should have answered the call. Of course, he’s going to ask where she is. And, of course, nothing I say is going to make him feel that much better, certainly not the truth, which I still don’t want to tell him anyway.
“Yeah, it’s no problem. Jasper’s driving. We’ll be home soon,” I say, like the whole thing is totally normal and no big deal. If he keeps pushing for details, I’m going to probably have no choice but to hang up and pretend the call got dropped.
“And so you went out? Just like that?” He sounds confused and kind of suspicious, which is fair considering that my suddenly leaving the house makes no sense whatsoever, because I’ve left out the whole part about Cassie saying she was desperate for help, my help specifically.
“I thought you wanted me to go out.”
“I did want you to go out, Wylie. You’re right.” My dad’s voice has a new, different edge to it, one that I don’t recognize. Not exactly angry, but seriously intense, maybe kind of insulted even. I didn’t consider that. After all, he’s been trying so hard to get me to leave the house, to go to an actual in-person appointment with Dr. Shepard, to go back to school. And here I am driving around with some boy he’s never met because Cassie asked me to? “I’m extremely concerned and I would feel much better if you were here, instead of out there. Karen and I can go get Cassie. Tell us where she is and we’ll leave right now. But I’d like you to turn around and come home, Wylie.”
I’m guessing it wouldn’t make him feel better to know that we can’t actually do that because we have no idea where Cassie is, specifically. Also, there’s no way he realizes how far away I already am.
“It’s fine. We’re already, like, halfway there. Cassie will explain everything to Karen once she’s home,” I say, trying to sound cooperative and like this really isn’t my situation anyway. It’s Cassie’s. But I’m still going to keep her secret for now. And the angrier my dad gets, the more sure I am of it. “I’ll be home in a—”
“You’ll come home right now.” It’s an order, an angry one. His voice is actually shaking.
“Dad, I will, just as soon as we—”
“Now, Wylie!” he shouts so loud this time that I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Right this minute!”
My heart is pounding and my throat feels tight. “Dad, why are you screaming at me?”
Jasper glances over my way as he pulls into the gas station’s brightly lit, mostly empty parking lot. The only other car in sight is parked at the pumps. Jasper rolls past it, the gravel crunching under our tires, until he comes to a stop at the back of the lot. Like he wants to give me privacy. Except he’s still sitting right next to me. And I feel like I might cry as I stare at the wall of tall evergreens, glowing white in our headlights.
My dad takes a loud breath, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “I’m sorry, Wylie. I didn’t mean to yell.” At least he does sound like he feels bad. “But we’re worried about Cassie and now I’m worried about you, too. In your condition, I don’t think you should be—?
??
“Wait, my what?” He didn’t just say that, did he? “Condition,” like I am diseased. Defective. Is that what he thinks? My mom never would have talked to me like that. She never saw me that way. My eyes are burning as I grip the phone and stare hard at the trees. I can’t speak, can’t say another word. If I do, I will definitely start bawling.
“It’s too early for me to report you missing,” my dad goes on like that bomb he just lobbed didn’t obliterate the earth between us. “But Dr. Shepard can contact the police. And under the circumstances, I’m sure she will agree that’s a good idea, especially after I tell her about what you did to your ha—”
“You cannot be serious.” My cheeks are stinging with anger and shame.
“Of course I’m serious. If you won’t come home, what choice do I have? And if Dr. Shepard reports you as a danger to yourself or others, the police will come looking for you immediately, Wylie. And when they find you, which they will, they won’t bring you home. They’ll take you straight to a hospital. You know that as well as I do.”
Yes, I know that. And my dad knows that being committed is one of my greatest fears. My grandmother dying strapped down in a psychiatric ward has haunted me since I was a little kid. It was the whole reason I hadn’t wanted to start seeing a therapist in the first place, convinced it was step one down a slippery slope that would dead-end in a straitjacket.
“Dad!” I shout, because I can’t even think of where to start. But he has to stop. Wake up. Take it all back.
“Believe me, I don’t want to call Dr. Shepard, Wylie. It’s the last thing I want to do. Come home, tell us where Cassie is, so I don’t have to.”
He’ll do that—break my heart, betray me, shame me—just so he can get me to do what he wants? Suddenly, my brain is swimming, with rage.
“If you call Dr. Shepard, I will never come home,” I say. And I mean it. I will hate him forever. Maybe I already do. Because now all I want to do is hurt him, the way he just hurt me. “You know what else, Dad? You know what I really wish? That it had been you who went out for milk. That you had been driving the car that night.”