“Uh … I’m not sure,” I said carefully. The little white lie had been a lot easier than explaining why I worked where I really did. “Why?”
“I was just thinking maybe I should get a job.”
“Really?” In Ashville, all my friends had jobs. Here, none of them did. These kids didn’t need to work and their parents didn’t want them to. Especially Liv’s.
“Yeah.” She shrugged, but didn’t look at me, confirming something was definitely up and she didn’t want to talk about it. “You think you could find out?”
She glanced over quickly, just long enough for me to see the worry line between her brows.
“Sure.” What else could I say? But I was already cringing at my next set of lies—sorry, they’re not hiring—and how disappointed she’d be. Maybe I could pick up some applications for her beforehand.
We crossed the hallway and I glanced to the left. Zander’s locker was down there, but he wasn’t.
Liv changed the subject. “You doing anything Saturday?” she asked. “Erin and I were talking about going to the movies, if you want to come.”
“That’d be great. I have to work but should be done by six or so.”
“And then you’ll need to run home and shower,” Liv said, taking the stairs two at a time like Jack used to. “You don’t want to smell like a french fry.”
Or a dead person. Which reminded me I’d meant to ask about Ryan. I kept my voice super casual, knowing how Liv pounced on stuff like this. “Hey, do you know anyone at Southridge?”
“Yup. A girl who used to live on my block goes there. Why?”
“Nothing really. Just this guy I met …”
“Ooohhh!” Liv’s face lit up and she grabbed my arm, her eyes sparkling. I knew she’d been waiting for this since I told her about Jack and I was glad to see her frown disappear, but I wasn’t into Ryan like that.
She’d dragged the story out of me—what little I’d tell—one day at her house. It wasn’t long after she’d invited me to their lunch table and we were hanging out, just the two of us.
“Yeah,” I answered. “I had a boyfriend. We broke up before I left. His name was Jack.” Even saying it stung. I’d thought that would stop. Not right away, of course. But it was as bad then as now and each of the eighty-four days in between.
I gave Liv only sketchy details, but she totally saw through my no-big-deal-we-broke-up spiel. I could see her rooting for me anytime I showed any interest in a guy. Like now.
“Spill it!” Liv said, grinning like a madman. “Who is he?”
“It’s not like that,” I told her, already regretting the conversation. “I met him at work and was just curious …”
“Name, Cassie. I need a name.”
“Ryan Wilton.”
She shook her head. “Nope, never heard of him.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Yeah, that’s okay …” The sooner this ended, the better. I’d just been hoping to get a better handle on Ryan. What he was like outside the funeral parlor. I’d tried looking him up online, but he wasn’t on any of the social sites. Then again, neither was I.
“I can ask my friend.”
“No. Really, Liv, you don’t need to. I was just curious, but for real, it’s no biggie.”
“Is he cute?”
I shrugged. “Not bad. But I’m not into him or anything.”
“Uh-huh.” Liv grinned, rubbing her hands together eagerly. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Ugh.
I took the El to the city again, my nerves jangling as I sped closer to Demetria, wondering if today would be the day. I tried to tell myself the whole thing was probably a wild-goose chase, but something wouldn’t let me let go of the idea that what I needed was locked inside her.
She was on the itchy tweed couch, in the same spot as the last time. In the same shapeless gown too. I looked around, feeling like I’d stepped into a time warp, but the nurse at the door was different, so were the other patients. Medicine Man was, thankfully, nowhere to be seen.
“Hi, Demetria,” I said, quietly settling into the chair next to her. “It’s me again. Cassie.”
Her eyes stayed fixed somewhere beyond me. I sighed, trying not to show my disappointment. Across the room, an old woman sat rocking and staring out the window. Two guys faced each other across a checkerboard with no checkers. If you weren’t crazy already, spending a few days here would probably do the trick.
I turned back to her. “You know how last time I was talking about the Greeks at my school? How I’d hoped to meet some when I came here?” Rhetorical questions, though I hadn’t necessarily meant them to be. “There’s this thing …” I paused, backtracking, not completely ready to be so direct with this girl I didn’t know at all. “Well, a strange thing happened to me a few weeks ago. There was this man—an old guy, just sitting out in the freezing cold. I saw something on him. The mark …”
My words—already hushed—trailed off into the quiet of the room. I was at a loss for how to say enough without saying too much. I looked down at my hands, fingers woven tightly together, and took a deep breath, almost started talking again.
But when I glanced back up, Demetria was staring at me.
I inhaled sharply because it wasn’t just that her eyes met mine. There was comprehension in them. I could tell she was listening, had heard every word I’d said. Understood them, maybe on a deeper level.
“Demetria?” It was barely more than a whisper.
She didn’t speak, but kept staring, an unearthly, penetrating look.
This time I did whisper. “Do you know what that means? The mark?”
Her eyes slowly drifted away from mine, back toward the wall. Her hands lay in her lap, wrists still bandaged.
“Demetria?”
Nothing.
“Demetria?” Her eyes were unfocused, attention clouding over. I was losing her. “C’mon, Demetria, listen to me!”
I was louder than I’d meant to be. The nurse stood up. “Is there a problem, Miss”—she glanced down at her visitors’ log—“Renfield?”
Damn! “No. I’m sorry.” Now she’d remember me. And not in a good way. “She just … I thought she was …”
“You can’t talk to the patients like that.” She took a step closer, her face stern, reminding me of what I’d promised Petra.