“Right.”
Petra raised an eyebrow, asking more directly, “Is everything okay with you and …” She waved a hand toward the door.
“Zander.”
“Right. You and Zander. You’re not … in any kind of trouble, are you?”
Oh, I thought, I’m definitely in trouble. Much worse than Demetria’s kind of trouble. See—Zander and I—we killed a woman last night. She was going to die anyway, but so am I and so are you. Doesn’t mean we did the right thing by not saving her. I’m in horrible, sickening, un-sort-outable trouble, thanks for asking.
“No,” I finally answered. “I’m not in trouble.”
Petra raised an eyebrow, not buying it at all. She waited a few seconds before saying, “You know, Cassie, I might not be your mom or dad or grandma, but I am your friend. And a shrink to boot. I’m good at keeping secrets and pretty decent at helping people. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s totally cool, but if you need an ear—or a hand, a lift, a few bucks, anything—I’m here.”
I nodded, letting my hair fall forward to shield my face. I was on way-too-thin emotional ice not to cry. “Thanks,” I said hoarsely.
She stepped into the room, letting me pretend I wasn’t a weepy mess, and said, “I’m not much of a fashion consultant, but since you don’t seem to be making much progress here …”
And that’s how I wound up dressed in an orange skirt, combat boots, and plaid shirt, knocking on Zander’s car window forty minutes later.
“That’s an … interesting look for you,” he said as I slid into the seat.
“Petra picked it out.”
“Yeah.” He pulled away from the curb. “It’s, um, fierce?”
I didn’t answer.
He let music—classic rock today, Clapton or Cream—fill the silence until we were about halfway there. Then he launched into what he’d come for. “You know we did the right thing last night, Cassie.”
I said nothing. He’d expected that, plowing right ahead. “I know you know it. In your heart. Maybe it’ll take a day or so for the shock to wear off, but you know it’d be hard to find someone more ready to die. I know you know that too. But I want you to feel it.”
Zander turned down the block, letting guitar riffs fill the car until we pulled into a spot outside school. He turned the key, shutting off the engine and the music, and faced me. I looked away.
“What we do is hard, Cassie,” he said earnestly. “But it’s right. And it’s easier when you have a partner. Someone who can help you and support you. Especially when it’s someone who cares about you.”
I met his eyes, looking for the truth, because this was part of Zander I couldn’t figure out at all. Did he care? Or was it just attraction? Or the need to pair up with someone who could see the mark?
“Yes, Cassie,” he whispered, as if reading my mind. “I do.”
His eyes held mine, dark and deep and vulnerable, asking me to accept him. To believe.
This is what I wanted, what I longed for. Someone to share the mark with. It was like I’d been squashing myself down into a tiny hole, barely able to breathe with the effort of holding in this horrible secret, and Zander had come along and, without a second thought, offered a hand to help me out. A strong, sure hand that would stay in mine, making sure I didn’t get lost.
“Do you think that woman’s in a better place now?”
“I’m sure of it,” Zander said without a moment’s hesitation. “We helped her get there, Cassie. And made sure the wrong person—someone less ready—didn’t go in her place.”
He opened my door for me, as usual, and I took his hand, letting him lead me out of the car and into school.
“You’ll never guess what I got in the mail yesterday,” Liv sang when she caught up to me after calc.
On three hours of nightmarish sleep? And after a pop quiz that I could barely read, much less answer? You’re right, I won’t. “What?” I asked.
She held up a booklet, practically jumping up and down. I squinted at it. Tonleigh College. I raised my eyebrows. “For you?”
“Yup,” she said proudly. “They have fashion merchandising in their business program. It’s what my manager majored in and”—Liv paused dramatically—“she thinks I might even win one of TREND’s scholarships.”
“Wow. That’s awesome, Liv.” I tried really hard to sound enthusiastic, but it came out dull and hollow. Exactly the way I felt. I hoped she’d be too keyed up to notice, but she stopped, looking hard at me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, continuing down the hall. “Bad sleep last night.”
Liv kept up. “Did something happen with Zander?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said. Because when I got right down to it, it wasn’t Zander’s fault. He had nothing to do with me or him being what we were. It just was. “Why do you ask like that?”
“I know you won’t want to hear it,” she said, “and I don’t have anything against him, Cass. Really. I mean, he is unbelievably hot and if you’re happy with him, I am. But the thing is, you don’t seem that happy.”
“I don’t?” I asked tiredly, completely proving her point.
“No. You seem a lot less happy, actually.”
There wasn’t much use trying to convince her otherwise so I told her a semi-truth. “It’s just coincidence, Liv. I have been feeling a little down, but it isn’t Zander. I think it’s just that I’m kind of … homesick.”
“Really?” She looked at me sympathetically.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s great here and I’ve met you and Zander, but it’s not quite home to me yet. And I miss … well, lots of stuff there.”
“Hey.” Liv put her arm around me, giving a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Cass. You’re so chill I forget how tough things must be for you.”
“Thanks, Liv,” I said shakily. “And congrats on the college thing. I really am psyched for you.”
“If I decide to apply,” she said breezily. “Just food for thought.” She stepped away, giving my Petra-picked outfit a once-over. “So are you okay or do I have to wait till tomorrow to rag on you for wearing orange? And, uh, the rest of that ensemble?”