The Unwanted (30 page)

But she knew that the pain in her chest wasn’t her pain at all.

It was Kiska’s pain, and it was being transmitted to her.

But it was all right, and she could bear it, for she knew what the pain meant.

It meant that Kiska was alive somewhere. He was injured, but he was alive.

If he was dead, she wouldn’t still be feeling the pain, for it would have died with him.

Now she had to conceal the pain until he got well and came back to her.

For five days Cassie stayed in her room, lying on her bed—fighting against the deep burning pain in her chest. But each time Rosemary suggested that she should see the doctor again, Cassie had shaken her head.

“It’s getting better,” she’d insisted. “And there isn’t anything he can do. I just have to get over it.”

On Monday Rosemary went to Samuels herself, and while he changed the bandages on her cheek and forehead, she talked worriedly about her stepdaughter. But to her surprise, the doctor agreed with Cassie. “She’s having an emotional reaction,” he told her. “The best thing you can do is simply give her some time. If it weren’t getting better, I’d agree with you. In fact I’d insist she see a psychiatrist. But if she says she’s feeling better, just leave her alone. Keep an eye on her, but don’t push her.”

Samuels’s advice seemed to work, and for the next four days Cassie came downstairs each morning, picking at her breakfast then insisting on doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen before returning to her room.

Then, on Friday morning, Cassie came down from her room dressed for school, her face pale but set in determination. “I’m going back to school,” she announced.

Keith’s eyes clouded with doubt. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you ought to wait until Monday. Missing one more day isn’t—”

“But I want to go back,” Cassie insisted. “I’m fine now,
and if I go today, at least I can get all the work I missed and do it over the weekend.”

She left the house right after breakfast and walked slowly through the town, surprised by how quickly spring had taken over. The morning was warm, and there was a softness to the air. The trees, their leaves only budding ten days ago, were bursting with a vibrant green, and tulips were blooming everywhere, dotting the village with bright patches of color. There was a freshness and promise of new beginnings to everything which imbued Cassie with a sense of well-being she had never felt before.

The last vague twinges of pain in her chest left her, and as she approached the school, even it seemed to have changed. The chestnut trees surrounding the old frame building were in full leaf, softening the lines of the structure, and the lawn of the playing field had taken on a brighter green than it had displayed ten days ago.

But as she mounted the front steps, Cassie’s good feelings began to fade away. She passed through the knots of chattering teenagers and conversations suddenly stopped, voices dropping to whispers.

Her skin tingled with the now familiar sensation of eyes watching her.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. None of it matters, and this time I’m not going to run away. Eric was right—I can’t not ever go to school again. So I’ll ignore them, and after a while they’ll forget all about me.

Taking a deep breath, she quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor, and long before the first bell rang, she was already in her seat. Today, at least, she wouldn’t feel everyone staring at her as she came in late.

The morning dragged by, and each time she had to change classrooms, Cassie moved through the halls with the strange detached air of a zombie. It was as if there were some sort of force field around her, and wherever she went, the crowds in the corridors seemed to part for her, as if the other students were now afraid even of brushing up against her. She did her best to pretend she didn’t notice, looking straight ahead, her face an expressionless mask.

By the end of the third period the urge to run away was upon her, but she refused to give in to it.

Don’t let them hurt you
, she reminded herself over and over again. Slowly the rhythm of the words became a silent chant, and eventually she imagined that Miranda herself was with her, whispering the words in her ear, giving her strength.

Maybe Miranda really is with me, Cassie thought as the last bell of the morning rang and she started slowly toward the cafeteria, willing her feet to move even though every fiber of her being wanted to turn and flee. After all, this is how Miranda had felt.

Every day of her life Miranda felt like this, Cassie thought—no one speaking to her, no one even smiling at her.

But staring at her.

Always staring at her.

The noise in the cafeteria seemed to dry up the moment Cassie opened the door and stepped inside, but she did her best to ignore it once more, moving slowly down the line, pushing the plastic tray in front of her, selecting food automatically, without even realizing what she was putting on her tray.

And all the time she could feel the eyes of the gathered students boring into her back, watching her slow progress toward the cashier.

Wordlessly she fished in her book bag for her wallet and paid the cashier, who glanced up at her for a moment, then looked again.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked tentatively.

Cassie nodded mutely, though she could feel a clammy sheen of sweat on her forehead and her legs were trembling. But the cashier wasn’t satisfied.

“Maybe you ought to go to the office and lie down for a few minutes,” she said. “My goodness, you’re so pale you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Instantly the cafeteria erupted with laughter. Cassie’s eyes brimmed with tears as she tried to pick up the tray, but her hands were shaking too badly, and the glass overturned, splashing water into the bowl of macaroni and cheese.

Then she heard a voice behind her.

Eric’s voice.

“I’ll take it,” he said. “There’s a table over there by the window. Come on.”

Relief flooding through her, Cassie let Eric take the tray, then followed him as he walked quickly through the tables filled with snickering teenagers. One of them stuck a foot in Eric’s way, but he deftly stepped over it, throwing the boy a dirty look as he passed. By the time they reached the table, the last of the giggles had died away, but when Cassie glanced around, she could see the kids whispering among themselves.

Eric seemed to read her mind.

“If you let them get to you, they’ll never quit,” he said, setting Cassie’s tray on the table. He fished his sack lunch out of the depths of his book bag, looked at the contents of the brown paper bag sourly, then grinned crookedly at Cassie. “Trade you a soggy sandwich for the macaroni and cheese.”

“It’s soggy too,” Cassie replied, her voice quavering as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.

“That’s okay,” Eric told her. “I’m just so sick of tomato sandwiches, I could puke.” He held up the unappetizing mess of white bread, limp lettuce, and thin slices of tomato, but Cassie shook her head.

“Take the macaroni and cheese anyway,” she said. “I hate it, and I’m not very hungry.”

“Then why’d you buy it?”

Cassie shrugged. “I had to buy something, didn’t I? Anyway, I wasn’t really looking at the food.” She fell silent, but her eyes darted around the room, and Eric nodded.

“Want to know what they’ve been saying?”

Cassie swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump that had risen in her throat, but she nodded.

“Well, everybody has a slightly different version, but the main idea is that you’re crazy.”

Cassie flinched but said nothing, and Eric managed another grin. “But it’s not so bad, really.”

“Not so bad?” Cassie breathed. “You don’t know—they’ve been staring at me all morning, and nobody will talk to me. It’s—it’s the same way everybody treated Miranda.”

Eric met her eyes. “I know,” he said. “They’re treating me the same way.”

Cassie stared back at him. “You? But—but—”

“It’s because of Simms. Everyone’s sure you did something
to him, and since I was with you, they think I must have helped you.”

“But we didn’t do anything to him,” Cassie protested.

“No one cares what we say,” Eric said, his voice bitter. He leaned closer. “But it isn’t just that,” he whispered. “I’ve been spending a lot of time out in the marsh.”

“The marsh?”

Eric nodded. “Everybody heard about what happened out there. So I went out and looked for Kiska.” He glanced around quickly, and his voice dropped even further. “Cassie, I found him.”

Cassie gasped, then covered her mouth with her hand. “Where is he?” she asked. “Is he all right?”

Eric nodded quickly. “He was almost dead when I found him. He was about a quarter of a mile from the cabin. There’s a big bush out there with vines all over it, and he was inside the bush. When I found him he couldn’t even walk, and for a minute I thought he was dead. There was blood all over him. Anyway, I took a cage out there and sort of bandaged him up, and I’ve been going out there every day, taking him food.”

“And he’s really okay?” Cassie asked anxiously.

“He’s almost well again. He can stand up, and he takes the food right out of my hand—”

“Monday,” Cassie said softly, her eyes suddenly boring into Eric. “He started standing up again on Monday, didn’t he?”

Eric looked at her quizzically. “How’d you know that?”

“Because that’s the day I got up,” Cassie replied, her voice taking on an edge of excitement. “I knew I was feeling what Kiska was feeling, and that proves it, doesn’t it? I was getting better, but I couldn’t really get up until Monday. And now I’m all right again.” Suddenly her eyes were sparkling. “And I bet that means Kiska can fly now. Let’s go out there. Right after school, let’s go let him out of the cage.”

But Eric shook his head. “I can’t. Not right after school. I got back on the baseball team, and I can’t miss practice. And if anybody sees you go out there …” His voice trailed off, but Cassie knew what he meant.

She glanced quickly around and saw Lisa Chambers glaring at them. “Is that why they’ve started staring at you too?” she asked. “Because someone saw you going out there?”

Eric’s gaze wavered for a split second, then he nodded. “I—I always act like I’m going to the cabin, but then I go down the hill on the other side of it.” Suddenly his eyes flashed with anger. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If they all want to think I’m crazy, let them. They’re all just like my dad—it doesn’t matter what you do, it’s always the wrong thing.”

“But why didn’t you tell them?” Cassie asked. “All you were doing was taking care of Kiska—”

“Are you serious?” Eric demanded. “They would have told, and then Templeton would have gone out and killed him. Why do you think I left him there in the first place?”

“But it’s not fair,” Cassie protested.

Eric’s eyes darkened. “So who ever said anything was supposed to be fair? Nobody was ever fair to Miranda, either, and look what happened to her. But it’s not going to happen to us,” he added, his voice taking on a bitter edge. “I won’t let it happen to us.”

Cassie looked at him, her eyes frightened almost as much by his tone as his words. “But—but what can we do?” she asked.

“There’s some things,” he said, and smiled. “For starters we can let them all know they’re not getting to us. From now on we act like nothing’s the matter at all. If they want to stare, let them stare. If they want to talk, let them talk. And tomorrow we’ll go let Kiska out of his cage. Okay?”

Cassie smiled gratefully. “Okay,” she agreed.

“Come on,” Eric said. He shoved the remnants of his lunch back in the bag and dropped the crumpled bag on Cassie’s tray. Then, with his book bag in one hand and the tray in the other, he weaved his way between the tables, Cassie right behind him. They were halfway to the doors when Lisa Chambers’s voice stopped them.

“What are you doing, Eric?” she asked, her tone saccharine sweet. “Playing nursemaid to the poor little crazy girl?”

Cassie felt her face burn with humiliation, but as she tried to hurry past the table, Eric dropped his book bag and grasped her arm, stopping her. “If that’s what you want to think, Lisa, fine,” he said. “But if you really want to know, it isn’t that at all.”

Lisa blinked uncertainly. She’d expected Eric to blush as
deeply as Cassie, and ignore her. Instead he was looking right at her, his eyes mocking her.

“Actually I was inviting her to the dance tomorrow night. See you there.” He dropped Cassie’s arm, reached down and picked up the book bag, then started once more toward the door, Cassie hurrying after him.

Lisa sat still, a wave of cold anger washing over her.

What was Eric doing?

Until today—without Cassie Winslow coming to school—everything had been just as it always had been. Every day Eric sat with her at lunch, and she waited for him until baseball practice was over, then he walked her home. He’d never even mentioned Cassie Winslow.

And the day before yesterday he’d asked
her
to the dance.

Now she could feel her friends staring at her, and hear Allayne Garvey snickering. She glared at Allayne, daring her to say anything.

Allayne’s snickering only grew into a laugh. “Didn’t you say he was all done with her?” she asked, throwing Teri Bennett a knowing look. “I thought he was taking
you
to the dance.”

“He was,” Lisa said stiffly, doing her best to conceal both her anger and her disappointment. “But I changed my mind. I broke the date yesterday.”

Allayne rolled her eyes. “Sure you did,” she said. “That must have been while I was flying to the moon, wasn’t it? Come off it, Lisa—he dumped you again. All she had to do was show up, and he went right back to her.” She winked at Teri. “And you can’t really blame him, can you? I mean, she
is
pretty.”

Lisa’s lips tightened and her eyes narrowed to angry slits, but she said nothing. A cold knot of hatred toward Cassie Winslow formed in her belly like a lead weight. Somehow, she would get even with Cassie.

She didn’t know how, but she would find a way.

“What were you talking about?” Cassie asked. There were still a few minutes before the lunch hour would end, and they were sitting outside, their faces tipped up to the sun. “You didn’t ask me to a dance. What dance?”