forum A Thousand Cranes // Rated PG-15 // Eris

Started November 30, 2018 by Deleted user

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DECLAN

I should not have done that. Should not have spoken for Cassia in Biology like I did. I think if there's one thing she hates, it's to be condescended like that. When I caught her gaze after Brent had left, she was all wide-eyed and alarmed and I think angry, too. Her face was tight, and I can't blame her for being upset with me.

I've fucked up so much lately.

After school I saw her in the parking lot, standing over near my car in the heavy rain. I don't know how long she had been there, but even from a distance I could see that the usual tension she carried in her shoulders was completely gone. Her face was even tilted towards the rain, smiling softly as it pattered against her pale skin. Cassia just looked so calm and content it was almost criminal to disturb her. I pressed the remote of my car repeatedly until it reacted, chirping as it opened, and Cassia climbed in before Iona and I got close.

A bummer, I wanted to see that smile.

Vaguely I wondered how she could be out so early since I thought she was supposed to have Gym, but maybe she was just quick. I didn't really want to think about it and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask her about that after what happened in Biology.

I scanned the parking lot for any sign of that dumbass Zeller, but he was nowhere to be found. Asshat. I could already tell that he found Cassia very interesting.

Too interesting.

I had heard him talking to some of the other guys about her during practice yesterday afternoon. The usual locker room shit, so naturally he deserved a punch in the face. So when Brent had come to Biology and leaned over her side of the table like he owned it and asked Cassia again if she wanted to go to Ontario Beach, I had snapped a little. Seriously, I was there when she had said no at lunch to Wyn and by the way Brent asked her, I could deduce that he had cornered her about it before.

Afterwards, I felt like a condescending ass and when she didn't look at me during the ride home, I knew I had fucked up. Speaking for her was an obvious no no.

But when the girl didn’t speak, sometimes it was a little difficult not to. Especially when it seemed that I’m becoming more and more attuned to her.

I’m not sure that fact is a good thing. But I really can’t help it.

And what was with all the sudden warnings that she wasn't good company, the subtle warnings for me to stay away? I had thought we were going along pretty well. Hell, Cassia even told me something about her past Sunday night, and my heart almost burst when she put her trust in me like that.

It broke at what she said, though. The song Fantasie reminded her of her mother. It explained how her face would go all soft and a bit more relaxed the more she recognized the notes. The gentle look in her eyes was so very different from the tight, strained expression she usually wore and I could see just a glimpse of what Cassia would look like when she would win over her fears and relax a bit around the rest of us.

It’s like Cassia had no idea that she was beautiful. Tired, withdrawn, and sad, but god, those tawny eyes knocked me sideways. That slight tilting smile, usually just the corners of her chapped lips, was wobbly and hesitant but it seemed to light her up from the inside. Not brightly, but softly. Like the first rays of the dawn.

So, when I had asked Cassia if she missed her mother because she obviously remembered something that was precious, her reaction was not at all what I had expected. I had thought she would close up, or walk away, even. But instead Cassia shook her head, her tiny face screwing up painfully as she had typed the single word that told me more than a lengthy explanation could ever do.

She had said no. She said she didn't miss her mother. Looking back at her face, dimly lit by the screen of my phone, I knew she wasn't lying. She really didn't miss her.

Which I think either meant it was all very long ago — Cassia had been with other foster parents before she came here — or that her mother had something explicit to do with the fact that she got into foster care in the first place.

I didn't sleep at all Sunday night and on Monday drunk more coffee than I ever had one single day in my life. I couldn’t get it out of my mind that Cassia…

She may have never been loved.

By anyone.

I am not ashamed to say that in the privacy of my room at four in the morning, that thought had made tears well in my eyes. I knew deep in my very soul that is why Cassia thought she wasn’t worth anything.

Seeing her struggling and fighting her way through school made me swell with pride as my heart crumbled at the same time. She was trying. She was trying so hard. Iona told me she thought that Cassia had shut down, dissociated was the word that she used, but somehow not completely. I agreed with her because I had noticed it too.

It was really weird to see her like that. It was almost as if she was on drugs or something. Her eyes were a little glazed over, her movements a tiny bit slower than normal. If you called her name, she would react just a fraction of a second later and while strangers would never notice this, we could, because Cassia always reacted frightfully fast to the sound of her name.

But Cassia reacted — almost — instantly and dapperly followed us around the school. I watched wide-eyed at how Cassia cunningly dodged other students, weaving around people to make sure she wouldn't be bumped into.

I looked down at Iona and saw that she had noticed it, too. "She wanted to go to school," She had said. "This was her decision and Auntie has made it very clear there were other options for her. She'll live. Cassia’s a big girl. Damn, you've seen how she has held herself in our house. High school has nothing on her."

I had said nothing because I had known Iona was right. Even so, I kept waiting for the message that Cassia had shut down completely and collapsed, like she had done when I first saw her, but nothing happened.

All of the other students were beyond curious of course, and I answered some questions, claiming not to know anything about her history. Lots of people asked us why we hadn't told them before of this Cassia girl, and we all had the same answer: We didn't know how long she would stay, and when or if she would come to school. She had started quite suddenly and then there was no time to tell people.

A lie, since she had been living with us for about a month already, but Iona, Josh and I had come up with the story to protect her. I found I kept quiet about Cassia not speaking. It felt somehow inappropriate to tell others about that part of her and knowing Cassia, she would want that detail kept silent for as long as possible.

We guided her to her classes, and I was happy to find she joined us during first break. The note she showed us to thank us was magnificent. It showed, more than anything, what kind of person was hiding behind all that fear. She wasn't uncaring or indifferent, even though one might think that when you saw her. No, she noticed everything and by thanking us for something as completely normal as helping her at her first day at school, she showed us what a kind soul was buried deep inside those frightened eyes.

But I had always known that. Even from that first night in the kitchen together.

In the end, her first day at school could have gone smoother, and we all certainly could have done more to ease the curiosity around her. But it could have been a hell of a lot worse, too, I realized as soon as I found out that Lola and Cate had been onto her in Spanish. Cassia flat out refused to tell us what had happened.

Which to me equaled they had been their lovely usual selves and had given Cassia a hard time, very probably making fun of her since Lola knew that Cassia didn't speak.

I was so pissed that I balled my hands into fists, which of course Cassia noticed, and her alarm had alarmed me in turn. I had seen her eyes. She had been so afraid of me in that moment. Something I had sworn would never happen again. And now I was fucking it up, for the second time in ten minutes too, having blocked her—grabbed her hands. God why had I done that?– just before without really intending it, and she looked at me again like I was going to hurt her.

I have long since come to the realization that Cassia was not hit occasionally in her previous home. You're not traumatized this badly if you get a slap on across your face every now and again.

I mean, it didn't happen in our home, but I knew that some of the kids at school would get the odd slap against the back of their heads when they were really far out of line.

But Cassia? No, for her it was more than occasional. And that still didn't even explain all of her fear in my book, but what do I know? Hell, she's tiny. Maybe if I were her size, I would be that scared, too.

I digress.

I scared Cassia and I felt fucking sorry for it. I released my fists immediately and apologized to her and hoped she could see the sincerity in my eyes.

Looking into Cassia's gaze sometimes feels like being witness of some sort of internal conversation. Because even though she really tries to hide what she feels and thinks, her eyes are like an open book. So when she’d shut down and came back to me in Biology, I saw confusion flit over her gaze, then worry, then fear, and then alarm.

She asked me to not tell Auntie. This is not the first time and I could tell that it was very hard for her to ask me this, like it's hard to ask me a favor, for help.

Cassia should realize that I'm willing to do just about anything for her, if it means she will get less scared, and more relaxed. I would walk through a volcano just to see her smile for real, to hear what her laugh might sound like—

Honestly, Declan. Shut up. Those thoughts are bad news.

I hope for her that once she gets into the rhythm of school and she has some distraction to the never-ending worrying I am sure she does, she might be able to relax some more.

Tuesday in school went relatively calmly. Cassia seemed to be more at ease, the tiniest most miniscule bit. I thanked God for the miracle. Lola and Cate did not come up to us like they had done the day before, much to my relief. They had been pissing sugar over lunch and I was sure that stood in stark contrast with the way they had been to Cassia in Spanish.

Iona too was wary of the way those girls were around Cassia. She came up to me Tuesday after school, bringing me a mug of tea in my room and flopping down on my unmade bed, indicating pretty clearly that she wanted to talk.

"I don't trust Lola. She is up to something for sure.” She started bluntly as I saved my file on my computer and turned to face her from my desk.

"Me neither. I don't want to know how they have been with Cassia in Spanish. They’re downright nasty when they’re together. Although, I don’t know why they’ve singled her out."

"Yea…I get what you mean. She was unbelievable in Trig. Wouldn't stop talking to me, as per usual, but now it was all about Cassia. She really was fishing for Cassia's past." Iona laid back, making a face at the pillow that dropped onto her face as my bed shifted.

I frowned and sat back, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why would she want to know that?"

Iona cocked an eyebrow at me and then shifted more comfortably, nestling her head in my pillow. "Sensation, Declan. If Lola knows of Cassia's past, she'll have the weapon of knowledge. If she knows things others don't, she'll gain popularity. Plus, Cassia's context is juicy. Even the little bit we’ve figured out. We are in Willow Hills. Nothing ever happens here. "

"She just never knows when to stop." I sighed, thinking of the last evening I spent with Lola, when she was desperate to move further, and later when she wanted to get me back. She told everybody I cheated on her. I still get sidelong glances now and again, people wondering if I would really do that.

And then the love letters came. Tiny messages slipped into my locker, my jacket pocket, underneath my windshield wiper. Promises, of all she'd do to me, for me if I took her back. Things that made me wonder how on earth she even knew they existed.

Hell, I had to google some of the shit she mentioned in her writing.

Yeah, that made me uneasy.

I think I dodged a bullet there.

"I think it will get worse when Lola sees the bond you have with Cassia." Iona said thoughtfully and a bit slowly, as if she were testing the waters of the subject.

I blinked, confused. "What?"

Now Iona was confused, and she stared at me for a moment, her brows puckering as she lifted her head off the pillow to look me better in the eye.

"Are you serious?" She asked lowly. I knew that tone. The one she specifically used for whenever she thought I was being an idiot on purpose.

"I don't know what you mean, Iona. What bond?"

Iona fell back on the bed and threw her arm over her eyes. "I can't believe you," She sighed. "Are you really that blind?"

"Eh," I frowned, tugging on my hair. "Apparently?"

"Next time you see her, try to notice how she is around you, and how she is around others."

"She gets along best with you." I said, still not knowing where this conversation is supposed to go. Something in my chest tightened painfully, and I was suddenly wary of whatever it was that my twin was hinting at.

"Declan," Iona sighed, as if I was testing her patience. "Just watch her. I can't believe you haven't noticed this before."

"Is she really that different around me?" I asked, not daring to hope such a thing but knowing too that Iona would not mention it when she was not entirely sure.

"I think she is," Iona said softly. "I mean, especially when I compare it to Josh or even Uncle Nick… I mean, I'm not even sure if she would sit out on the porch with me in the middle of the night."

Ah, so it hadn't gone unnoticed. I couldn’t help the glare that I shot her way at the comment. The feeling that she had intruded on something private made me want to make sure she never told anyone else. Which was ridiculous because it wasn’t like that at all between Cassia and I. It was just…hanging out.

"I don't want to think of that—this ‘relationship’–as something special." I said slowly, bordering on dismissively. I should know better than to think my sister wouldn’t be able to see through it, but I didn’t want to put my heart out there. "I just want to think of her as a normal girl, just—you know–quieter."

"I think that's exactly what it is, Dec." Iona replied as she turned her head to look at me again. "You're relaxed around her. Don't treat her like she'll break, you know? I think she appreciates that, deep down."

"That's not so different from what you do, is it? Or Auntie?"

Come on Iona. Don’t so this. Please.

"I don't know. Maybe it is. I mean, Auntie and I drive her insane with all our questions, to make sure she's all right. You're a guy, you ask once and be done with it." The corners of her mouth quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.

I smiled with her, looking down in a gesture to admit the truth in her words.

Iona turned to her stomach and leaned up on her elbows. "I think you should try to get to know Cassia better."

I blinked at my sister, not understanding. "Isn't that what I've been doing?"

Iona shook her head. "I think you should do more. Prod her a little for information because I think she's dying to talk to somebody."

Iona's words, combined with the tiny scrap of past Cassia had shared with me, made me send a text. And I got a reply. Then another one and another one. But as soon as the conversation turned into the quality of her companionship, Cassia closed down and warned me away. Then when I tried to get her out onto the porch, since I felt like I would be better able to talk with her when I could see her face for her reactions, she said it was late and that we should go to sleep.

I was confused after that, to say the least.

I've spent all day thinking about the bond Cassia and I are supposed to have according to Iona, and the only conclusion I can come to is that I feel very protective of her. Cassia is strong, incredibly so, but also soft and fragile. Gentle. She deserves to be protected and loved—platonically of course—or maybe not platonically but familial? Or just to be cared for?

No.

That’s not right either. Cassia isn’t my family. When I look at her, I don’t feel the same as I would looking at Iona. It’s different, warmer, and yet a harsh rip in my chest. She’s—different—special—

Goddammit Declan.

Love.

She just deserves to be loved.

But that protective urge made me snap at Brent for making her so obviously uncomfortable, and the reaction I got from Cassia left me even more confused.

Of course, me talking for her the way I did doesn't make me much better than Brent, now does it?

I need to talk to her.

Cassia went to bed as soon as we came home, and now I'm in my room, looking at my laptop screen and wondering if I should text again or find her in her room.

I mean, I want to get to know her better. I don't know, it's like this pull I have toward her. I want to be near her, want to know what secrets lie in her big eyes. I want to know the girl behind the fear, I want to know how her mind works. I’ve only been given bits and pieces and I’m starving for more.

I heard Auntie and Nick talk one day and they were mentioning Cassia's sense of humor. Surprisingly, Cassia had made a joke while having a conversation with Auntie, and the woman had laughed enough that she cried.

I want to experience that. She’s got bite to her, that I know, especially since she told me off the other day. I hadn’t even been mad, just more proud that she had the strength to speak her mind, even if I hadn’t understood any of it.

I want to know more about the books she takes from the library. Astrology and space seem to captivate her, and I want to know why.

What about all the music she likes? Since I made her the playlist, I can see how many times she’s listened to each song. Those numbers are steadily creeping up to match my own. Cassia particularly loves classical violin, which intrigues me. Why violin? Does she love it more than piano? Do I have to learn to play the string instrument now?

Strange as it may sound, I do think she has a wild personality down within herself. She's just afraid to show it, like she's afraid to show almost anything. She hides her emotions from the outside world. Sometimes I think she even hides her emotions from herself.

Apart from the time she screamed when she was having a nightmare, I have never really noticed anything about what's going on in her mind. It’s a bit eerie. Cassia obviously thinks about things. A lot. I mean, she's—traumatized–there is no doubt about that. She's been with us for only over a month now and I'm thinking that there must be some sort of… what, processing going on?

Like she’s a computer? Jesus.

She thinks, over thinks, so much and I just want to help her ease that. In any way I can.

The bruises on her throat have healed, fortunately, but what she's been through must take time to overcome. I'd be fucking depressed if somebody had tried to kill me. Iona would be over the moon that she was still alive. But Cassia? I wonder if she even thinks about what happened. Or is she in denial? I've seen movies, read books, in which that happened. The people who refused to acknowledge that something had happened to them and then something trivial would trigger it and they would break down.

Sighing, I rub my hand down my face. I'm not gaining any understanding here. Perhaps I need to talk to Uncle Nick.

Moving from my room to out in the house, I find him, watching TV in the living room with Auntie. I hate to break into their time — Nick has been busy in the hospital lately and he has been away from home a lot.

"Ah, Declan, join us. There’s a Mission Impossible marathon on HBO right now." He says when I step into the room, and Auntie gets up immediately to make us all drinks.

"I don't want to bother." I say, flopping down on the couch and focusing on the television. It looks like a final battle and I have to squint my eyes against the flashing lights.

"You never bother. You've been quiet lately, actually. All well?" Nick asks in his typical way. Sometimes I wonder if he knows that his doctor's voice slips through when he is at home.

"I'm good." I say passively, following Auntie with my eyes as she sets down tea for all of us. That was quick. I don’t know if I can talk about all of this in front of her. I thank her and then turn back to my Uncle. They’re both looking at me curiously as my gaze bounces between them.

Then the words just pour out. "I was wondering… Ehm, about Cassia?"

Nick sits forward and Auntie is all attention too. "Sure. Tell me." He says, coaxing almost. I realize that they have been waiting for me to do this, to talk to them about her. I wonder if iona has already done it. Probably. My twin is more forthcoming with her inner monologue.

"Will she ever get some sort of therapy? I mean, she obviously has been through some serious stuff…" I trail off, unsure how to continue.

"Go on, sweetie." Auntie says softly.

"What can I say? I think it's scary that Cassia seems so numb? I don't want to offend, but I'm worried."

"It's a good thing you are worried, Declan. But you have to know this is not your problem to be worrying about." Nick says softly, as if he is saying out of necessity instead of what he really feels.

"I worry about her," I say, not meeting my guardian’s gaze. "If anybody had tried to kill me, I'm not even sure if I could process all that on my own. We all know that this was not the only thing that happened to her."

"What do you think that happened to her?" Nick asks carefully, looking down at his hands as he carefully folds them. My suspicions are confirmed then.

I shrug, the gesture ridiculously incoherent and offensively nonchalant in this context. I have to swallow before I can speak again. "We've been over this. I think she was…beaten– physically abused–I mean. Yelled at, probably, a lot. If you just look at how she reacts when her name is being called, or how she reacted when that box came for her…"

Emmy looks between the two of us, compassion shining from every pore. Nick sits forward and leans his forearms on his knees, bringing his fingertips together. His silence makes me feel I have to say something.

"It's not that difficult to guess, Nick. You did tell me some about it."

"We know. You’re right about Cassia needing therapy. But her old therapist—Jackie—and we have agreed that we wanted Cassia to settle in first. It's a lot to take in for her. A new house, a new school, a new life entirely."

"A new bed to sleep in.” Auntie says softly.

Again, I am overwhelmed with how this all must have been for Cassia. A move to a new home alone is almost a trauma in itself, let alone what caused it all. And then there's the fact that this isn't even the first new foster family she has had to get used to.

Her confession that she doesn't miss her mother unsettled me. I miss my mother and I barely knew the woman before she passed away.

"So, she will have therapy?" I ask, wrenching myself away from my train of thought.

"She will. She can't do this on her own. But Cassia has to be ready, otherwise it will be of no use." Nick says, voice still gentle.

"She seems so numb, sometimes. But I know there's so much life and emotion underneath." I say just as softly, not willing to talk to my guardian’s about this but unable to stop speaking.

"She's on guard," Auntie says. "I hope she'll start to feel safer soon, so she can show us how she really is and relax a bit."

"She thinks she's not good company." I blurt out to my own shock. Immediately, I feel like I betrayed her trust. I’m not making it my job to report everything we talk about to my aunt and uncle. That would just be wrong, but in order to keep her trust I have to keep my damn mouth shut.

"Do you think she thinks that?" Emmy asks, an almost affronted look overtaking her graceful features.

I frown, sorry for what I said. I look away, dragging my hand down my face.

"You can tell us." Auntie says.

"I'm not sure if I can," I reply. "Not sure if it's okay."

"If you're not sure, then don't," Auntie amends. "But we can see you and Cassia are building a form of friendship. I'm happy to see she appreciates your company."

I look up in surprise. Nick is nodding along with what Auntie is saying. They noticed the same thing Iona did, it seems. Why didn’t I? "She does?"

"Don't you think so?"

I open my mouth, but only air escapes. "I don't know," I say finally, and then relent. "Cassia told me she's not good company. Then when I asked her why she thought that she said I didn't know her and basically ended the conversation."

Nick sits back in the couch and looks at Auntie, having a silent conversation with their eyes.

When it takes too long, I clear my throat a little. "It's like she thinks she's not good enough or something? Could that be it? Which is ridiculous, of course."

"She does not have a high self-esteem. I think the only thing you can do is stand by her," Auntie says softly. "Prove to her you're not leaving her or turning on her."

She snaps her mouth shut like she has said too much, but what she said is not new to me. The night when Cassia opened the box and I found the belt, she had looked at me with a fear in her eyes that had frightened me in turn. Although I had refused to think about it at the time, I know that she had thought I would use that belt on her.

The thought sickens me still.

Not to mention the way that Cassia clung to Auntie after waking up from her nightmare. Like she’d never been held before, or that Auntie would be ripped from her grasp before she could find comfort.

So, Auntie telling me that Cassia is afraid I might turn on her is not very surprising, but unsettling nevertheless.

"How do I do that?" I ask. "Every time I approach her, she looks like she thinks I'm going to attack her."

"I think her fear will linger for quite some time," Nick says sadly. "But every time she learns that nothing happens, is a win for everyone."

"You mean to condition her into safety? Like Pavlov's dog?"

Nick laughs through his nose, looking down at his hands again. "That’s an interesting way to put it Dec, but yes, like Pavlov's dog."

"Perhaps you could play more often," Auntie says, smiling at me. "Cassia seems to enjoy your music. Didn't you make her a playlist?"

"Yes, I did. I'm surprised she even accepted it." This time I run a hand through my hair, blocking my face from their view for the duration of my blush. I’m not sure why I suddenly feel shy about giving Cassia a gift, but the feeling is there.

"Cassia often feels like she needs to do something back for what she gets. It's progress that she accepted the gift from you." Nick says his tone light. Although the look he is giving me is a bit loaded. I have to look back towards the tv again, which is promoting the next movie in the marathon.

"Do me a favor, Declan?" Auntie's voice is kind as always. "When Cassia wants to do something back for you, whatever it is, try to not let her."

I look at my aunt as her words sink in. "Why not?"

What if it’s a gift back? I couldn’t possibly refuse anything she gave me.

"Because she has to learn to accept things. She doesn't have pay back for all that she gets. The playlist was a gift, right? She has to learn to accept that."

I nod slowly in understanding. "Okay. I'll try."

No promises.

If giving me something in return for a kindness I do for her makes her smile? Hell yea I’m going to let that girl do whatever she like.

"Good. Thank you. I know this is hard honey, but she will get better. Cassia just needs time to process and understand."

We sip our drinks in silence for a while, watching the violent movie with one eye as we're all lost in thought.

"When will the therapy start?" I ask when I've finished my tea.

"We'll offer the idea sometime around the end of this week," Auntie says. "We wanted Cassia to have settled into school for a bit before we drop yet the next new thing on her. And then it's up to her if she'll take it or not."

"If she feels like you want it, she'll do it," I say absentmindedly. "I don't think she'll dare to refuse it."

"That's very perceptive of you, Dec," Nick says. "We'll certainly keep that in mind."

It’s not perceptive and we all know it, but I appreciate the comment anyway. I nod, standing up and stretching. "Thanks for the talk. I'm going up, need to finish something for school."

"All going well at school?" Nick asks then. He’s giving me his piercing doctor’s look. I know I’ve been sullen lately, but the third degree is less than appreciated. He’s been asking me this every night since Cassia came.

"Sure," I say, my arms falling back to my sides. The same response I give every night. "And I've more time for homework now Cassia has taken over the task of tutoring Iona."

My guardian’s smile in understanding. "Cassia is very bright. I am so pleased to see she is willing to help Iona." Auntie says.

I smile and nod again, wishing them a good night. When I turn for the stairs, Nick calls out to pause me. "Declan? Please don't tell Cassia about the therapy. We'd like to tell her that ourselves."

"Duh, of course," I say, half joking and half annoyed that they would really think I would tell Cassia about this. It's obviously something they will have to sort out with her and it’s like they said — those things are not my problems to worry about.

But I want them to be…

Goddammit.

Cassia will be getting therapy, and that–I hope–will be good for her.

Thursday is dreary, the world shrouded in a grey curtain of mist and rain. The drive to school is quiet, even Iona appears to be contemplating life as she stares out the window in the back next to Cassia.

The tiny brunette always stares out the window on the drive. Her gaze is different from her usual tense expression she wears at school or home. As my gaze flicks to her in the rearview, she’s giving the passing landscape that gentle speculative gaze that makes her look like the soft dawn again.

"Dude, we need to go and do something fun this Saturday." Josh says suddenly as I'm pulling into a parking spot at school. His voice makes all of jump.

I look pointedly at the rain, then back to him. "What do you propose, Josh? A stroll along the lake? Besides, we have a game."

He shakes his head. "Ass—I mean after the game. I want to go out. Saturday is supposed to be better. A party maybe?" He asks hopefully.

I think for a moment, tempted by being letting loose for a bit, but not looking forward to being surrounded by everyone I go to school with all night.

"Maybe," I say. "Last time we went to a party; I was sick for a week."

"That was no one’s fault but your own. You didn’t have to stick your tongue down—oof!" Josh breath leaves him entirely as I elbow him fiercely in the gut.

Iona looks at me sharply, mouth popping open in shock. “Excuse me?”

Absurdly my gaze flicks to Cassia. She’s looking from Josh to me to Iona and back again, expression perfectly blank, but there is a light shining in her eyes that is definitely amusement.

"You're such an asshole." Josh adds under his breath.

"I heard that." I mutter, opening my car door. I step out, ignoring my sister’s questions and popping up my collar against the cold. I jog towards the main school building, itching to be out of the icy rain. Cassia is already under safe cover, watching us approach. She’s fidgeting, tugging on her fingernails in the coat that makes her look even tinier than she is already.

That soft expression is gone again.

It’s really too bad. She looked so at peace.

She looks at me, but as soon as I catch her gaze, she looks away. It seems that she's holding on to her conviction that she's not good company. Well, like I told her before, I'll decide that for myself, thank you very much.

"We can go get Jets before we go. A good deep dish will put you in the mood to party. It always does." Josh bargains, jogging up to my side.

Iona hums in agreement. I’m sure it’s just for the pizza though, Jets in certainly Iona’s main weakness. To tell the truth, it’s everyone’s weakness. The pizza is just that good.

"Josh, you can’t tempt me with Jets. That’s just not fair at all—Can we please go inside? I’d rather not get soaked. Jezz." I hold a binder over my head, frowning. We have a few minutes before the bell rings, and I want to be inside where it’s warm.

"I don't get you; I love the rain." Josh mocks, then shakes his head rapidly, spraying us with the water that has gathered in his hair. We duck away and Iona squeals, holding up her hands against the flying drops.

Cassia, I see from the corner of my eye, looks at us and seems to be taking it all in like she is watching a movie. I've seen her doing this before, and sometimes I wonder if our interaction really is new to her.

She likes to observe. This is one thing I know for sure about her.

We chat for a bit more until the bell rings, and then I watch how Cassia takes a deep breath and seems to hold it for a long moment, before she nods to herself and takes off to class. I'm sure she knows the way by now, but it appears that Iona still feels the need to accompany Cassia to her classroom.

Standing there, watching my sister and Cassia walk away, I can’t help but think that there should be more that we could do for her. She needs to not just feel safe and comfortable but accepted. I'd like to take her somewhere special. I know chances are slim she'd actually go with me, but I'd love to take her somewhere sometime that puts a smile on her face. She never gets out of the house except for school or groceries with Auntie. I don't think Cassia has a driver's license, even.

I'll have to figure out what she likes to do. She's doing a good job in hiding that. It's almost like she is afraid to show us. That again brings me back to the question of what horrors she has been through before she was placed in our house.

During first break, Lola bounces up to me as I try to make my way to the quiet corner where we've been going to with Cassia this week.

I try to hide my annoyance as she blocks my path and stop myself from looking over her shoulder, where I can see Cassia standing with Iona.

Cassia is looking from Lola to me, her face carefully neutral as usual. Then Iona asks Cassia something and she turns to my sister to give her the attention she seeks. Again, it strikes me how Cassia seems to be infinitely giving, always. If you ask her attention, she will turn to you, whatever she is doing. But it's not just fear that motivates her to be that way. I think she is inherently caring.

She wants to have a connection with people, she’d do anything for it. Whether or not she can admit it to herself, she already cares deeply for a number of us.

I hope I’m one of them.

Or perhaps I am looking too much into this.

There's more to Cassia than to Lola at least, who is now trying to catch my gaze, looking slightly frustrated as she comes up on her tiptoes to reach my line of vision.

I look down at her and try to understand how I could ever have been dating this girl for months on end. The bit of feeling I had for her back then faded before I even broke up with her. I still feel a little bad though, I never meant to use her as I did.

"Hey, Declan!" Lola says. It sounds like she's looking for the right tone of voice to approach me, and in doing so, she fails, and her words come out absolutely flat.

"Lola. Hey."

"So, um, how are you?"

"I'm good," I say carefully, being careful not to sound too suspicious of this interaction. "You?"

"I'm okay," She says, looking lost.

The silence is beyond awkward. We are probably the most incompatible people on this planet.

"So, did you want anything? Or…" I trail off.

"Eh, no, just wanted to know how you were." She twirls a blonde lock around her finger, looking up at me expectantly.

I don't believe her for one second. Nor do I know what she wants from me.

"Okay. Well, we've established that I am, in fact, doing good, so if there's nothing else?"

"Well," Lola hedges, chewing her lip. God, it's just annoying when she does that. Not when Cassia does…because when Cassia does it means she's thinking of what she'll say.

Well, it means the same when Lola does it, but usually it's not all that interesting what comes out of her mouth then. With Cassia, it is. Well, not out of her mouth literally, of course but — her lips are–

Why am I thinking about Cassia biting her lip right now?

"How is Cassia doing?"

Lola's words are so sudden that I need a moment to process them.

"She's okay…" I frown. Glancing over her shoulder again, I see that Cassia is smiling slightly at Iona, who seems to be reenacting some kind of wild story.

"Why?"

"Oh, I was just curious, Declan." Lola says, but there's a sharp edge to her tone. She drops her hair and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Really." I deadpan. What is going on here?

"Yeah. Because she's been through a lot, you know…"

Oh, so this is where this is going. More snooping.

"She's okay. Anything else?" I don't have it in me to spend any more time with her. I'm so done with her, with her games. She always has a hidden agenda. Always spreading nastiness about anyone that she thought wasn’t good enough or was in her way of getting what she wanted.

"You can tell me, you know," Lola says. "Her secret is safe with me and I'm sure she could use some friends. A troubled girl like her? She just needs to feel normal."

I fight to hide the horror and rage that's threatening to show on my face.

"Her story is not mine to share," I reply through clenched teeth. "If Cassia needs friends, it's up to her to make them, not us. Don’t force yourself into her life, Lola."

I wish I could call her out on her behavior around Cassia in Spanish class, but I've not been there to witness it so I'm not even sure what happened. The fact that Cassia never has denied something happened and absolutely refuses the talk about it however is a clear enough sign to me that Lola has not been very nice to her.

"Jesus Declan, no need to be like this with me. After all that happened…" She's referring to our relationship. If you can call it that.

"Like what, Lola? How am I supposed to react after all that happened?" And I am referring to the fact that she told everybody I cheated on her, to the love notes she left, to the shitstorm she put me through simply because I didn't like her enough to keep up a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere.

She looks properly taken aback by that and bites her lip again. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her and wait until she speaks again.

"Okay. Um, I have to go." She skits away and I look after her, the surprise probably evident on my face still when I walk to the group. I honestly wasn’t expecting her to give in without a bitch fit. It’s very unlike her.

"What did she want?" Josh asks, looking over my shoulder to a Lola who now is in crisis meeting with Cate probably.

"Nothing." I shrug, not wanting to relay my conversation with Lola when Cassia is present. I'm pretty sure it'll freak her out when she hears somebody has been asking about her past.

"Hm. Yea, Okay." Josh nods, letting it go for now. But the way his smile doesn’t return to his face, lets me know that he and I will probably talk about this again later on.

God. Ex-girlfriends suck.

"Everything all right here?" I ask, looking at Iona before my gaze wanders to Cassia. She's looking at the floor, but if I compare her stance to last Monday, she's infinitely more relaxed. It looks like she's no longer in that half-aware state she was in earlier this week, and I think that is a good sign. From what I've seen and from what Iona told me, the teachers are okay around Cassia too, and I'm glad they're not giving her a hard time.

The poor girl has been through so much, I'm happy that for now at least school seems to be going relatively easy.

She's quiet today, though. Well—more so than usual. She's not making eye contact with us and she gives minimal answers to questions. Texts are involved and even Iona seems to feel that Cassia wants to be left alone.

I wonder if something happened to make her act like this, but perhaps she's just having an off day. We all have those, once in a while. I wonder if I can do something to cheer her up.

But what? I’d love to make her another playlist, but I’d hate for that to be the only thing that I can do for her. Seems kind of…lame. Although, music seems to be strangely therapeutic for her. Perhaps this is how I can connect to her? It’s easiest to talk to her when music is involved.

I wonder how she will react to the notion of therapy. How would that work, anyway? She can't really talk, can she? Would online therapy perhaps not be better for her? I mean, she can type. Maybe it's easier for her to write things down like that.

Maybe I should ask Nick about this.

I move through third and fourth period, making notes and trying not to yawn too much. I really should go to bed earlier, but I've been lying awake again last night, worrying.

At lunch, it's once more raining like a mofo and I rush to intercept Cassia at her Spanish classroom. When I round the corner, I see that Cassia is surrounded by two blond-haired girls.

Oh, for the love of all that's holy. Why can’t my girl catch a break?

I don't even want to listen to what they are saying. All I can see is that Cassia is looking highly uncomfortable and tense. I walk over to them to save her from the Bitch Club.

Cassia spots me first, looking up at me with wide eyes in a tired, pale face. Lola and Cate follow her gaze and turn their heads to look at me.

"Ready to go?" I ask Cassia, ignoring the other two. I hold my hand out, despite knowing that she won’t take it.

She nods quickly and moves to follow after me.

"If you keep hauling her away like that, she won't make any friends here, you know, Declan." Cate says suddenly, flipping her blonde hair over a shoulder.

I raise my eyebrows at her, but then Lola speaks.

"Or are you trying to hide her away?"

What the flying fuck?

Do I even respond to this?

I think fast. "I am not. Cassia, do you want to stay here, or do you want to come with me for lunch?"

Much to my relief, and also to my surprise, Cassia resolutely steps forward and away from Lola and Cate, firmly taking my outstretched hand in her own. She grip is strong despite the size of her fingers. Her skin is cool to the touch and soft, except where there are scabs. Unfortunately, there are a number of those.

I stare dumbly down at our clasped hands, realizing that the shaking is not from Cassia, but from me. My heart is doing something wild in my chest and honestly, my brain is straight up blank with shock.

She leads us down the hall, before pausing once we are out of Lola and Cate’s sight. My brain seems to start functioning right at this time and I use the brief moment of us pausing to tighten my hand around hers and take the lead to the cafeteria.

As we enter the loud room, I catch my sister’s gaze as we approach. Her eyes glance down at Cassia’s hand around mine and she raises her brows as if to say: “I told you so, butthead.”

But I can’t think about that right now.

Josh jumps up to get her a chair and Cassia sits down without hesitation, letting go of my hand, and smiling a little as Iona greets her enthusiastically.

Whatever Lola and Cate have been trying to achieve, it looks like they are not succeeding.

This makes me happy indeed. I shake out the hand that Cassia gripped, the skin tingling as if I had been electrocuted.

But at the same time, I worry. I am worried that Lola and Cate are trying to plant seeds of doubt into Cassia's mind. I just can't understand why they would try to make her feel unwanted by us.

I decide to bring it up to her when we are in Biology. We are once more working together on some assignment that is ridiculously easy, mostly because Cassia really knows her stuff. She does the majority of the exercise without blinking, despite my hovering as I try to help her.

I really wonder what she knows. I've seen her reading all those science books at home, the ones I never even thought of trying to comprehend, and yet she seems to be immersed in them completely. She's scarily good at math, and I wouldn't be surprised if she were proficient in languages too.

Yet, when it comes to social interaction, she sometimes seems to be lacking. Not because she acts antisocial, at least I think not because she does communicate if you ask her the right questions, but because she can look on and watch others with rapt attention and fascination. Especially when we are bantering. There is something in that she can't get enough of observing, it seems.

She's a spectator to life in so many ways.

However, we need to talk. I haven't even really apologized yet for the Brent Zeller incident. Thank fuck the guy didn't come over again, but the class isn’t over yet.

"Hey, Cassia?"

She looks up at me and not for the first time I see a flash of dread in her eyes before she masks her gaze and faces me fully, letting me know she's listening.

"So, ehm, sorry for yesterday. I shouldn't have spoken for you like that." I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, looking away to check to see where Mr. Banner is as he makes his rounds helping other students, but my gaze wanders back to her to see if she will respond.

Cassia frowns a little, then shrugs and looks down.

"No, I really am sorry. But I heard you'd said no before, and…"

She looks back up at me, and there are so many emotions in her eyes I can't begin to name them, but sadness seems to be the clearest one I can decipher.

"Anyway, I guess I feel a bit protective over you. I'm sorry, it was condescending of me." I look away in my petulance which is unfortunate since I can't see Cassia's reaction now. I can’t believe that I admitted that I was protective over her. That’s not something she wants to hear. Cassia values her independence more than anything, she doesn’t want me brooding over her like a dark cloud. Protection or no.

When I look back down at her after a long moment, Cassia has turned and is focusing on the lab assignment again. Despite her fixed gaze at the papers on the table, her hands don’t move to continue the project. She just stares, so still, so focused inwardly that I doubt she’d even react to a bomb going off right beside her.

"Cassia?"

She turns to me again, her face carefully neutral.

With an overwhelming sadness I realize that if I were to call her name fifty times, she would turn to me fifty times. I'm willing to bet money on it that not once would Cassia show me her frustration, which would undoubtedly start to grow. She's such an expert in hiding her feelings, but I know she has them.

In fact, I think—no I know–she's a very emotional person. She won’t allow herself to feel or show others what she's feeling. That night in the kitchen when she was crying and she let me stay, Cassia let me in to more than just her private moment. She let me into a part of her that wasn’t exposed to anyone else. Realizing this now, that night was huge for her. For me.

Iona's words drift back into my mind. Is my bond with Cassia really that different from the others?

Cassia holds my gaze and waits for what I'll do, and her tawny eyes pull me back into the present. A second later, one of her black brows flicks up just slightly.

I give her a slight grin in response. Her sass makes an appearance in the most bizarre of moments.

But—she is waiting for me to say something. Damn. What was I going to say again?

"Jess and Cate have made introductions, I see." I say incoherently, realizing too late we already discussed this on Monday, and she knows I know all that has happened already.

Nice one, Dec.

Cassia nods, obviously wondering where this is going. That brow quirks further.

"So, do they want to be your friends?"

She thinks for a long moment, either about the answer or about the fact if she should answer, I don't know. Then, slowly, she shakes her head, a calculating look on her face.

"They didn't?"

To my utter surprise, Cassia reaches over to my forgotten notebook and writes.

They say they want to be friends.

I look at the note, then invite her to go on with an enthusiastic nod. It takes her a long time to continue writing. I can't even comprehend how it would be if it were such a struggle to give words to others. What happened to make her like this?

But still–she writes.

I don't trust them.

This coming from Cassia is so exceptionally alien, since she obviously doesn't trust anyone, but I do think I know what she means. I must say I am happy to see these words because she is right, and it means she won't fall for her tricks. Her poor heart won’t get broken again by false friends.

I mean, Cassia’s not stupid. Of course, she would see right through any bullshit.

"Why don't you trust them?" I ask, just to keep the conversation going. Besides, it will look bad if I warn her away from them, especially after they implied, I was keeping Cassia away on purpose, albeit for different reasons.

Bad vibe. They're not honest.

But—they’re also not wrong. I won’t admit it out loud, but I would prefer to keep Cassia from the masses of stupid teenagers that make up our school.

She doesn't rat them out, though. It would have been so simple write down how they had been nasty with her because I know they have been. But she doesn't give me any real ammo against them.

That's… impressive.

"About what they said when I came to get you earlier… I hope you know that is not true." I say, tapping the edge of the notebook. I hope that she will keep writing.

The look on her face tells me she's not sure what I'm talking about.

"About us hiding you from others. I'd love to see you make friends besides us. Just be careful who you befriend, okay? Not everybody is nice." I almost sigh at myself, I sound so old.

Cassia does something that surprises the shit out of me. She snorts.

She snorts.

She actually makes a sound and it's a scoff in reply to my warning that not all people are nice. Cassia even rolls her eyes dramatically as she does it.

The “No shit, Declan.” Is plainly obvious.

I'm so shocked by her reaction that I throw my head back and laugh. Hard.

---

~O~

We finish Biology in silence, and I have to work hard to suppress chuckles every now and again when I remember Cassia's face in reaction to my laughing. She'd been incredulous and obviously not sure why exactly I had laughed so hard that the entire class, including Mr. Banner, had looked at us to see what was so funny.

Cassia had hidden behind her hair and focused on the assignment; her face so red I thought it might explode.

Of course, I realized way too late what her reaction actually meant. The nausea lasts until the end of class and I find it impossible to speak to her again.

I wouldn't know what to say. I should apologize. Even though it was funny, and she had cracked a smile in response to my laughter, the truth was plainly lain for me to see.

Was she warning me again, in her gentle way?

Crap.

After Biology Cassia lingers at her table, seemingly having trouble to get her books into her bag.

"Can I help? We have to go." I ask, a bit nervous to be honest because I have Spanish right now and I've been scolded before for being so late in class. If I come late again, I will get detention. When I tried to explain the teacher why I was late, she scoffed and told me that any new student was a big kid and would have to find their way around school by themselves.

Okay. Best to get to class in time then.

Cassia waves me away and fusses with her bag, her hair falling over her hands so I can't really see what she is doing.

"Can you find your way to your next class?" I ask. Come to think of it, I've never walked her from this class before. I'd guess she can find her way by now.

Cassia nods and gestures for me to go to Spanish already. I wave to her quickly and leave the classroom, not thinking about it anymore as I am still a few seconds late for Spanish and pretty sure that will mean detention on a Friday afternoon.

I'd rather not want that, actually.

I get lucky, Senora doesn’t notice me.

But I can’t get it out of my head that I should have lingered with Cassia.

---

~O~

When we get home, Cassia steals away to sleep. She has done this every day so far and I'm guessing that school is costing her a lot more energy than she lets on. I'm glad Auntie is forthcoming and as such Cassia often sleeps until Auntie calls her down to dinner.

In the meantime, Iona and I work on our homework on the dining room table. Both of us letting out deep sighs of frustration at the amount. Iona struggles over calculus and I dread over economics. Occasionally, we switch assignments when something gets too hard, Iona doing my political intrigue and I breeze through her math problems. We’ve been doing it since we were little, and now it’s a routine that both of us barely think about anymore. Only ever been caught once by Nick who lectured us for ages about ‘cheating’. Safe to say it was in one ear and out the other. Despite our subterfuge, it’s a long couple of hours.

Cassia then reappears, always a little rosy from sleep, her hair ruffled and her eyes tiny as she tries to wake up again. For some reason I feel the heat rise within my body at the sight and immediately stand when she enters the room all the way. Iona and Cassia both blink at me in surprise.

“Uh—Good morning sleepy! Wait. Good night—Evening.” I turn away and head into the kitchen, completely unsure what the hell just happened.

I hear Iona say something about how lame I am and then she begs Cassia to help her finish with her math homework.

It’s about ten minutes before I feel less idiotic enough to go back into the dining room. The girls look up at me but pay no mind as they both return to their homework. Well, seems I won’t be ridiculed. Thank god.

Cassia helps Iona and I watch through my lashes, in utter awe, as Cassia explains calc to Iona in a way that my sister gets. Where I would have huffed in frustration and just taken over for her, Cassia tries a different angle to make it clear patiently waiting for Iona to get at least two problems right before moving back to her own work.

I try to engage Cassia in conversation when Iona is finally working by herself, but it's stilted. She’s obviously is not in the mood to talk. I hope it's not because of my semi-inappropriate reaction in Biology.

Another thing I would have to apologize for, it seems. But I don't want to do that with everybody else around.

Cassia finishes first, silently restacking her books in a pile before shuffling into the kitchen to help Emmy with cooking dinner. She seems so content with the routine, the tension in her shoulders released enough where she can actually appear as relaxed, but we all know Cassia is fooling no one.

I finish my homework just as dinner is ready and Cassia shuffles away again holding a tray with food, up the stairs and to her room.

I wonder how that must be for her. To not be able to eat with others around and as such to be forced to eat in solitude. Does it bother her? I already know she won't just eat if you ask her. It's like the one thing I've found so far, she won't do when asked. Yet when I made her a sandwich and kind of made her feel like I was ignoring her, she ate.

Has she eaten with anybody else yet? Yes, with Auntie, I know. And I could have sworn I saw her popping popcorn into her mouth the other night.

But with anybody else?

I'm pretty sure she hasn't.

She’s solitary and seems to enjoy the quiet. I should respect that.

However, I find myself knocking at her door, not five minutes after we've all gone upstairs to get ready for bed. Cassia doesn't respond even though I know she is in her room.

Sighing, I push away from trudge back down the hall to my room where I shower quickly and collapse in bed. I have to respect her wishes and her boundaries. I have to tell myself this over and over, despite the fact I’d rather be spending my sleepless night in her quiet presence.

Staring in the dark, I know I won't be able to sleep. Too much is happening, and I don't even know what it all is, let alone put my finger on it to label it. Iona's words haunt through my memory, but in all honesty, I don't think that what Cassia and I have is all that special.

Besides, it's obvious she is pushing me away.

Best to step back then until she has sorted out what she is struggling with.

Sighing, I turn to my stomach, punching my pillow into a more comfortable position. I can feel my recent nightly adventures catching up with me as a yawn threatens to crack my jaw in two and my eyes slide shut.

It feels like seconds later when my alarm blares at me to wake up and the noises coming from around the house filter through my morning haze.

The dream I had been having lingers at the corners of my consciousness. My waking mind not willing to let it go. It had been so warm, like a summer day at the beach. The tinkling sound of a light laugh still playing with my eardrums. Heavenly and girlish, echoing the playful way a hand had clenched mine.

What had we been doing? This nameless girl and I? Blinking a few more times brought me fully to consciousness and the dream vanished. Getting all the way up, I drowsily started my morning routine, hearing Iona singing along to her morning playlist as usual. A soft step passed my door letting me know that Cassia was making her way downstairs for breakfast.

I carelessly style my hair and brush my teeth, scooping up the first pair of clean dark jeans and a t-shirt that I can find. As I step out into the hallway, bag slug over my shoulder a sudden still of my dream comes back to me.

A girl. Facing away from me but laughing freely as she lead me down a city street teaming with all sorts of lights, long hair streaming down her body obscuring anything else that may identify who she might have been.

Huh. I usually don't prefer brunettes.

---

~O~

Winter seems to have started overnight. A cold front has settled over Willow Hills and temperature has dropped significantly. I shove my hands in my pockets when we arrive in the parking lot, seeing my breath escape in white puffs.

"Damn," Josh mutters, rubbing his hands together. "What the hell? It’s fucking freezing."

Iona walks up to him and wraps her arms around him, shivering dramatically as she snuggles her head in the crook of his neck.

"Even your hair is cold," He complains, pushing Iona away slightly so her midnight curls can’t reach the skin of his face anymore but he's laughing, and we move along.

Cassia seems even smaller than usual in her too-big coat, folded into herself in defense against the cold.

She's from Los Angeles — she must be used to heat and sun. It's obvious she is not built for this weather and she looks miserable even though she tries to hide it.

Hell, I think I can even see a blue hue to her lips. She’s very obviously trying to conceal her shivering.

This will not do. I know I have another pullover in the trunk of my car—the blue one that she’s already worn actually—but I doubt that she would take it.

I really wish she would. Those shivers are killing me.

I take the lead and guide her into the school well before the bell rings and take her to a spot near a wall with a heater. She smiles gratefully, and huddles in close to the vent. Slowly, she warms up until some color comes back into her cheeks again.

But she's stressed. Cassia’s eyes are empty and haunted, and her lip is chapped from chewing on it obsessively. Did she sleep at all last night?

I frown a little, concerned by her obvious tension.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask softly, barely heard over the thrum of the other students. I reach out a hand to touch her arm gently to grab her attention.

She looks at me for a long time and I swear I can see some sort of longing in her eyes, but then the veil comes down again and she shakes her head, looking down as she steps back a little. Out of reach, my hand falls limply back to my side.

The bell rings, giving me no other chance than to let her go as she walks off with Iona and Josh to her first class.

During first break, she is much the same and I meet gazes with Iona several times. She's noticed it too.

In lunch, still the same. Although a little worse. She’s extra fidgety, and the way she wrings her hands in her lap looks painful. I get anxious just by looking at Cassia and something is up, I can feel it. But if she doesn't talk about it, there is little I can do.

There's a coil of nerves in my stomach and I don't know what to do with it. The tension rolls off of Cassia in waves, but she doesn't want to tell me about it, or Iona for that matter.

When I ask her in Biology, she denies that something is wrong.

"I can tell you are tense, Cassia. What's wrong?" I insist, but her reply is short and for the first time, I sense irritation in her communication because she starts to sign at me again, before realizing midway through that I don’t understand. With a silent huff, she writes quickly in my notebook. The scratch of her pen quick and brutal.

Nothing. Leave it. Please.

The fact that I need to leave it tells me that there is indeed something wrong, but she asked me to let it go, all I can do is obey.

At the end of class, the asshat Brent Zeller saunters over to our table.

"So, Cassia," He says slowly, probably attempting to smile down at her but it's almost a leer. "Don't you have Gym class now?"

I halt in my movements, hearing something in his words I am not sure about. The tone is too arrogant, but in a way that makes it sound almost alluring. If he were anyone but Brent, I’m sure it would be. Beside me, Cassia freezes up completely as she looks up at Brent with wide eyes.

"Why don't I walk with you? Since it seems you haven't been able to find it before?"

I blink as something clicks. I turn to the girl beside me, frowning in confusion. Cassia has not been to Gym. Her lingering in this class for every day of this week, making sure I would not know where she would go, finally makes sense.

Why doesn't she want to go to Gym?

Why would she pull this kind of deception? Why not just tell me? Hell, I would suffer through a few detentions with her if she wanted to skip. Iona too. Josh would skip the whole day if anyone asked. So why would she keep this from us?

I’m hit with a strange feeling of betrayal deep in my gut. Cassia still doesn’t trust me. Not even a little bit.

So much for Iona’s theory.

But it’s not anger that makes me shift uncomfortably, its understanding. She may be feeling more comfortable around me, sure, but I have to do more for her to trust me.

Why does it seem like the most important thing in the world? I’m—I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I know that Cassia needs more than just a lame protector.

She needs a friend to back her up.

"Come on," Brent says. "I have Gym too now. Let's walk together so I can show you the way."

I swallow harshly and see Cassia get up, her movements rigid. I don't think she is breathing at all.

I wish I could do something but how can I stop Brent if he has the same class as Cassia? With what reason other than 'Cassia is scared' could I send Brent away? Besides, Cassia wouldn't want others to know of her fears. If I would use that argument, I'd betray her trust in a horrible way.

So, I watch helplessly as Brent guides Cassia out of the classroom. My brain is scrambling for something, anything, to say that would bring her back to my side. It feels so very wrong to let her go like that, but I honestly don't know what I could do about it. My jaw is locked in anger and the sudden urge to punch something overtakes me enough that I have to pause out in the hallway to take a deep breath.

In my next class, I am anxious, pent up. Cassia has skipped Gym this entire week and she hasn't told us why. Going to Gym obviously stressed her out beyond belief and now I have let her go with the biggest douchebag that walks around in this school.

I should punch my damn self.

This jittery anxiety is why I'm not even that surprised when I get a text from Iona, twenty minutes into class.

911 - Come to the gym. Now. Now. Now. Something wrong with Cassia.

I look at my Spanish teacher, who is working behind her desk as we are supposed to work on an assignment. I know she won't agree with me going, but I have to. There’s no way anything can keep me from going to that gym right now.

I pack my bag quickly, not really expecting to come back here this period, and walk up to her desk. "I'm sorry Senora Gomez, there is an emergency regarding Cassia. I have to go."

She looks up at me with stern eyes. "And how you do you know of this emergency?" She asks lowly.

"I got a text." I admit, confessing I have been checking my phone during class. Honestly, why does this even matter. ‘Emergency’ means ‘move your ass’.

"What is this emergency?" Senora Gomez asks, and I can feel the seconds tick away as she is trying to verify my story.

"I don't know, Senora, but my sister texted me and I really think I should go to the gym now." I shift from foot to foot, preparing to bolt out of the class. Come on.

The moment she takes to try and make me break, seems to take forever. She’s trying to call my bluff. Goddammit I don’t have time for this.

Finally, I break the silence. "Senora, I am going. You can put me in detention for this, I don't care. But I need to go to Cassia now. She needs me."

I don't even wait for an answer before turning to leave the classroom. I honestly don't care if I get detention for this. It will be worth it if it means I can go help Cassia now, because obviously that is infinitely more important than a Spanish class I can do with my eyes closed.

Speeding through the empty hallways, I arrive at the gym quickly. I have no clue where Cassia is, so I decide to enter the Gym through the guy's locker room.

Only a few people there, mostly guys, and no teacher. The atmosphere is decidedly tense. A few guys on the team nod at me, but I’m too busy moving through to really give a proper greeting.

I move on into the gym.

"Cassia is in there." Somebody points into the direction of the girl's locker room. A lanky girl who I recognize from the cheer squad.

I jog over there, but hesitate before I peer inside the open door, knocking loudly on the doorpost to make my presence known. “Iona?”

I mean, come on, it's the girls locker room. I can’t just storm it.

"Declan! Come here. Now!" Iona calls out through the door. I’m inside before she has a chance to finish the sentence. Over the thrum of girls that are crowded in the corner of a room, I can hear her voice soften. I assume she’s talking to Cassia.

I push my way through the mass of girls all of whom are not moving an inch to let me pass.

"Come on. Move it." I snap when a brown hand reaches out and pulls me through the throng of girls. Tatiana. She’s got an expression on her face I’ve never seen before. Fierce and protective. She and Marissa stand like sentinels in front of the crowd of girls. Marissa frowning so hard as she barks something about throwing hands with the next girl that steps any closer.

“Over here. I tried to help, but we had to grab Iona. I—I wasn’t sure what to do.” Tati’s voice was a hundred times softer than her expression and she continued to lead me to the back of the locker room. I nodded sagely, prepared to thank her when I spot Iona next to a tiny shadow tucked into the corner of the lockers.

Cassia sits, huddled on the floor, hiding her head in her arms, completely rigid. I don't even have to ask if she is shut down, because I am pretty sure she is. She’s shaking so hard, I’m sure I can hear her bones rattling.

My heart threatens to shiver up in my chest. It hurts, a physical pain, to see her like this. Cassia is so scared, the little huffs I’m hearing is her hyperventilating.

Good god. What happened? Who did this to her?

Carefully, I drop my bag and move to stand as close as I can to Cassia. I don’t want to alarm her, so I move very slowly.

At that moment, Coach Gell seems to finally come to his senses. "Everybody out!" He calls authoritatively. I’m beyond pissed that he allowed them all the stay in here and watch the show, I’m there will be gossip tomorrow from the way all the girls reluctantly, and very, very slowly, move out of the room.

That rage comes out of nowhere again as I glare down at Coach—but Marissa’s form appearing in from of me stops me from yelling out anything profane. “It’s not his fault.” She warns, and I turn away with a nod. Later then.

Tatiana lingers by her girlfriend’s side. "Call me if you need anything. We’ll stay by the door okay?" She says softly to Iona, who is crouched down in front of Cassia, coming as close as possible without touching her.

Iona nods and the three girls exchange looks before Tatiana and Marissa disappear as well. As they walk out of the locker room, the Coach comes back.

"I'm lost here. You guys best call your Aunt." He says gruffly, rubbing at his baseball cap.

"I already did that." Iona says, not looking away from Cassia. After a moment, she does look up. "Do you have any idea what happened?"

Coach Gell shakes his head, looking lost. "No idea. The girls were late to come out of the room and a student came to get me. When I came to check, they were all… hovering. I found Cassia like this. She's completely unresponsive."

"This happened before. Our Aunt should be here in about twenty minutes." Iona says. It’s almost odd to hear her sound so serious—so adult. She sounds like—me. I never realized how eerily similar our voices are. Iona’s normal pitch is so much more graceful than my deeper rasp. "Is it okay if we wait here with Cassia?"

"Shouldn't she be brought to the nurse's office? I can carry her there."

"No," I say, fiercer than I want to. "Don't touch her. She's not to be moved right now."

The Coach quirks an eyebrow at my tone, and he has a right to.

"I'm sorry," I amend immediately. The last thing I want is to be sent away from Cassia’s side. I crouch down, right next to Iona, and as close as I can get to the tiny shivering mess. I want so desperately to reach out and touch her, to let her know that I won’t leave her, but I know touching her will only make it worse.

"Very well. You know her, so I will assume you know best for now. Let me know when your Aunt arrives. I have to go and give class now."

"We'll get you." Iona smiles, that lovely smile where people would let her get away with murder in a heartbeat, and coach Gell leaves. We are left with a rigid Cassia who is locked inside her own mind with only her fears as company.

"Cassia?" Iona asks softly as she scoots a tiny bit closer. "We're here. Declan and I are here. Everybody else left. Nothing will happen. Auntie will come soon, and you can go home."

No response.

This time I try. "I know you can hear me where you are. Listen, I'm sure that you shut down for a reason and nobody will think less of you that you did it. You’re safe, Cassia. We—I’ll protect you."

A pause, and Iona looks up at me with big eyes that are filled to the brim with tears and worry. We use our twin telepathy to have a quick conversation and then we switch spots, Iona protecting the door and me closest to Cassia, as we both decide to have me take over trying to bring Cassia back to us. I don't know if I can do much good, but I can try.

"Why didn't you tell us you didn't want to go to Gym?" I ask softly, careful to keep any judgmental tone out of my voice because I'm not judging. Truly, it’s an awful class.

Iona's head snaps around to look at me. This knowledge is new for her, too.

"You should have said something, saved yourself this stress. You know you can come to us with these things, right? We gotta keep you safe, sweetheart. That means even from stress." Crap, it's hard to talk with a Cassia who's only nodding or shaking her head but talking to a Cassia who's absolutely giving no response at all is damn near impossible.

I just want to know that she knows I’m here next to her.

"What happened? Did Brent do something stupid?" It's a wild guess. But apparently, I’m on the nose and bile rises in my throat when her entire body convulses in a terrible shiver. I reach out reflexively worried that she’s going to snap herself into a bunch of tiny pieces. My hand brushes her shoulder and Cassia folds up her body tighter, wrapping her arms around her waist with more force.

"Oh my God." I mouth, meeting gazes with an utterly shocked Iona.

We both know. We know. We just never said it out loud, afraid to admit it. The trauma. Iona and I both know what happened to her in the past now.

I swallow thickly but find I cannot speak for a moment; my jaw is so tense. I’m going to kick Brent Zeller’s ass.

Iona, always the stronger one, takes over. "You're safe now, Cassia. You're with us. If Gym stresses you out like this, I'm sure we can find a way to get you out of it."

No response.

"Auntie is coming soon. She'll take you home, and there you can come out again when you feel like it. She won't be angry or anything." I promise, although my voice sounds strange. Iona’s fingers lace with mine, her grip strong enough to stop the circulation in my fingers, but I find I’m holding onto her just as tight.

No response.

We are adrift, us three, struggling to find our way out, but completely lost. Iona’s hand in mine is the only sensation that makes any sense right now. Her touch is what makes me do another stupid thing.

I reach out towards Cassia again, dropping my hand on the ground where I know she can see it. Iona’s hand tightens around my own and I almost make a sound at the pain but remain silent. Waiting.

We are adrift, us three, but Iona’s hand has me grounded. I want to be that for Cassia, but she has to do it. She has to trust me to lead her out. It’s so, so hard for her.

But I’d wait forever for Cassia to take my hand.

"Hang in there," I say after a long pause. "We're not going anywhere."

Cassia shivers intensely again, but at the end of it her hand drops down onto mine. I can’t help the noise I make at the contact, and Iona’s glance has fire going across my cheeks, but immediately, I flip my hand palm up. Cassia’s fingers lace gently through mine. Her hand is so cold and shaking terribly, but her grip tightens with each passing moment.

I let my thumb trace a small patch of the back of her hand. I don’t know if it’s for me or for her, but it feels good, and Cassia’s shivers ease.

After many more minutes of softly spoken reassurances and tense silences, we hear some ruckus and then Auntie bounds into the locker room, flustered and beyond worried.

"Cassia?" She asks.

Before we can get up, she's kneeling down next to us. She pauses momentarily at how the three of us are all holding hands but remains silent. Auntie’s gaze flicks, worried, at Cassia before going to us for explanation. Iona quickly relays what she knows of the story.

"She's still here though. Completely aware" I add. I shake our clasped hands as proof. Cassia’s grip goes as tight as Iona’s, almost as if she’s afraid I’m going to let go. I squeeze back twice, hopefully passing along the message that I’m not going anywhere. "I said something about Brent, and she reacted. Ah, reacted poorly that is."

Auntie nods slowly, taking in this information. She doesn’t miss the meaningful look that Iona and I exchange, instead she merely shakes her head. Now is not the time nor the place to discuss what we have figured out. But holy hell is that going to be a conversation.

She turns to Cassia slowly. "Cassia, honey, can you hear me? I'm here now. Shall I take you home? Don't worry, I'm not angry."

"I'll go get Coach Gell." Iona says softly as she gets up and releases my hand. "I'll wait for a bit to bring him back though."

I nod and Iona slips quietly from the room.

"I think Cassia skipped Gym until today," I say softly. I don't want to betray Cassia, but Auntie has to know. Another firm squeeze on my hand, and I do the same back gently. "Then Brent Zeller came to walk her to class, but she was already so tense, Auntie. I should have said something. I wish I had stopped him."

"You couldn't know," Auntie says softly. She looks back to Cassia. "Don't worry about Gym, sweetheart. You don't have to do this. I should have known you wouldn't want to do this. It's all right. Don't worry about this class. You were right by not going. I've failed you once more. But we'll fix this. We'll work it out. You're safe now."

No response, but somehow the tension in her body seems to lessen a tiny bit. Her grip on my hand stays strong.

"Do you hear me Cassia? You are safe now. No need any more to shut us out like this. I'm not angry, nor will Nick be. I promise. Shall we count?”

She waits a beat. Cassia’s trembles slow to a stop. “One, you're okay. Two, you're in the locker room…"

Auntie trails off as she stretches her hand out over the floor towards a completely unresponsive Cassia, in a clear, desperate way to get closer to a girl that can't stand to be touched, but wants to so much as is evident by the way she holds my hand.

"Let us in," Auntie whispers, and her voice breaks. "Please let us help you."

Infinitely slowly, Cassia moves her other hand away from her body, keeping her face hidden behind her hair and her knees. The hand that moves descends, hesitantly, almost reluctantly, until it touches the floor not an inch away from Auntie's hand.

After what seems like an eternity, Cassia's hand slides forward and touches Auntie's. When Auntie slowly, carefully moves her hand to make it easier for Cassia to touch, Cassia's hand moves along almost as if naturally and then all of a sudden they are gripping hands, Cassia's fingers turning white with the force she is using to hold on to my Aunt, matching the grip she’s got on me.

Cassia squeezes my hand twice, I notice that she doesn’t squeeze Auntie’s, just mine.

I feel like a sap, but I have a lump in my throat as I squeeze her hand twice back.

I’m here.

I’m not leaving.

And from the corner of my eye, I can see the tears fall from my Aunt’s eyes.

(Hi yes, permission to chop off Brent's dick and make him eat it?)

(I would like to second the motion.)