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

Started November 30, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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It’s some time after dinner and after I’ve retreated to my room for the night when my phone buzzes next to me. I’ve been studying the intricacies of genealogy, so the sudden sound makes me jump.

I think about ignoring it, but a glance at the time makes me reconsider. It’s been hours since I looked up from my textbook. I need a break.

My phone buzzes again, almost as if telling me I actually should be done for the night. Sighing, I close my supplies and shove them back into the corner of my desk. The movement knocks over my growing collection of paper cranes and I take a moment to right each one just so they stand straight and at attention, my fingers tracing the shape of the biggest one carefully.

A third buzz.

Alright. Alright.

I collect my phone and plop into bed, tucking the covers about me. Releasing a content sigh, I look to see who is trying to get my attention.

It’s Declan.

Hey!

How are you? How did you like your first (second?) day at school? We didn’t get to talk much in the car.

Already looking forward to the holidays?

I blink a few times. Unsure how to respond. But he wants to chat and I’m not tired enough to sleep yet…

My fingers make the decision for me.

I'm ok. School was ok, too. Just no fun to start at a new place.

His response is lightning fast.

Yeah, I can understand that. You handled it well though.

I frown. This is not true, and he knows it. Why would he say that? He witnessed me turn into a living vegetable for crying out loud.

You think?

Why did I ask that?

Again, I only have a single moment to blink before his response comes through.

Yes. I do.

Did you expect differently?

That’s a fantastic question because yes, I did expect so much differently. I still don’t know how to handle any of this confidence in me. Especially since I have none for myself.

I don't know.

He’s typing before I even move my finger away from the send arrow. The grey bubble flicking up and down as Declan is obviously debating what to say next. It makes me almost anxious.

I think you do know. Talk to me, Cass.

Nope. This is dangerous ground. I think I just walked myself into a trap. How the hell does he do that? What is it about Declan that always gets me to say exactly what I don’t want to?

I frown, suddenly feeling defensive.

I really don't know, Declan. Everything can happen when you start in a new place. There are always people who think they should be nice and people who are nasty.
I press my phone against my chest. Prepared to not respond to him anymore for tonight, but the second my phone buzzes, I flick it up to glare at the screen.

His response it not what I expected at all.

I think I can guess the ones you like best then. ;D
He’s…making a joke? I almost smirk.

Almost.

I can’t even admit to myself that I am indeed smirking.

Yeah. The ones that ignore me.

From down the hall, in the direction of Declan’s room, I hear a deep rumble that is quickly muffled. My smirk grows ever so slightly.

I'm sorry I laughed, it's not even funny. You really feel better when left alone, don't you?

That knocks my smile away. Being alone is just better for someone like me.

I really do. I'm not good company, anyway.

It must be the late hour. I realize my slip after I have tapped the send arrow. Ah, crap.

I beg to differ. I think you are excellent company.

I want to ask why. I really do. But even though I type it out, I can’t press send.

Instead I type out something that I should have said to him ages ago.

I'm not. I'm not good. You really don't want me as a friend.

Declan’s response takes time; the grey bubble teasing me. This is it, when he finally realizes that I’m not something he wants or needs in his life. He deserves nothing but the warmth the rest of his family gives him. Not…not me. I don’t even know how to be friends with someone. A sharp pain grows in my breastbone and the air grows tight around me.

God this is an awful conversation.

Why, Cassia? How can you think you are not good company? You're witty and smart as hell. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so kind and selfless. Not to mention patient enough to deal with Iona long enough to teach her calculus.

Why would somebody not want you as a friend?

I sigh, throwing an arm over my eyes, despite the pain in my chest making itself home with a few friends. Why is he fighting me on this?

You don't know me, Declan.

Because in truth, he really doesn’t. None of them do. And I won’t—can’t—let them in. I don’t know how. Or if I can trust that they wont run once they see how rotten I am on the inside.

That's why I want to get to know you. Hey, since we're both still awake, why don't we sit outside on the porch for a bit? I can make tea?

I stare at the screen until my eyes water. My heart is squeezing so tight I almost feel dizzy. I rub at my face, ignoring the wetness.

It's late. We should really go to bed.

Why I am crying is beyond me. Declan was never going to be a friend. I may have come to want it, may have come to like his company, but it really is best to end it before it goes too far.

I will never be good enough.

There is nothing I can do about that.

---

Tuesday in school is much the same. There are fewer staring gazes, I'm already becoming less of a novelty. Everybody knows by now I do not speak, and I can hear the rumors around as not all students try to not be overheard by me.

As I expected, the stories as to what causes my muteness vary. It was the same in Los Angeles. Some think I am 'retarded' and wonder why Willow Hills High would take on a special student. Some think I must be deaf or something along those lines. Some think my vocal cords were surgically removed.

I hear one girl whisper she heard somebody else saying I don't have a tongue. The urge to stick it out at her is overwhelming, but I keep my head down and try to ignore her.

I must award them for their creativity, though. My classmates in Los Angeles never had the brains to really think deeply about it. Instead, most just mocked me behind my back. Or to my face if they were feeling particularly bold.

I think it will get worse if they ever find out I am an elective mute, as it is called so nicely in clinical terms. I think I should be able to speak, even though I haven't done so in ten years. I can scream just fine, much to my bitter disappointment. I was hoping that if I had stopped using it entirely, my voice would just vanish, never to return.

I still blush when I think back at that night, and the memory is always followed by the memory of Emmy hugging me. The way I lay curled on her lap… It had been overwhelming. I would like to do it again, but I would never ask for it. I don't deserve it, and why would I think she wants to comfort me like that. Besides, I'm nearly adult. Adults don't curl up on laps.

Declan keeps his distance, and when he catches my gaze, he looks confused, worried. Disappointed? The James’ still go out of their way to make sure I am not alone, that I don't have to walk the hallways on my own and that I get to every class. Well, every class but one. I skip Gym again.

I know it's a matter of time before anyone finds out. I am already bracing myself for that moment, but I'm willing to pay that price. I won't go to Gym, and there is no amount of pain or punishment that will stop me from that.

In Government I see Tatiana again, and she meets me with a smile and a greeting. She tells me of the plans the group has to go to Ontario Beach that weekend. She explains that Ontario Beach is the closest thing kids around can get to the actual ocean despite it being a lake. The park is a perfect place to hang out and barbeque. I think I heard Declan mention that once. His friends like to hang out there as well.

When Tatiana asks me if I want to come, I shake my head no.

"That's okay," She says, but I can sense her disappointment. "Maybe some other time?"

I frown and look away, unable to answer. Of course I would love to go to the lake and enjoy the sunshine that was promised this weekend, but with all those people around and the fact that I’d have to convince one of the twins to come with me… I just can’t do it.

Honestly, I’m surprised I even want to go.

We focus on the teacher for the rest of class and I am relieved when Tatiana doesn't speak to me again. The silence is an easy one, however, and I can allow myself to relax slightly in class.

I'm not as withdrawn as the first day, letting more of the outer world register. It's scary, but however tempting it is to pull back fully, it also drains me. Ironic how it seems to cost a tremendous amount of energy to reach a calm place in my mind.

After class, the happy go lucky guy from yesterday, Wyn Ton, bounces up to me before Declan has appeared to pick me up.

"Hi, Cassia! I was wondering… We're going to Ontario Beach this weekend — want to come?"

I blink, then shake my head.

"I already asked her." Tatiana says softly behind me.

Wyn looks from me to her, then back to me. "Why not? It will be fun. You can watch me surf!" He smiles, mimicking the funky stance of a surfer.

"She can watch you crash off the board into the water. You can never stand up all the way, Wyn." Another voice says playfully mocking. I recognize the blond guy I've seen in Biology. Where did he come from?

"Hi, Cassia? Is it? I haven't had a chance to introduce myself before. I'm Brent, Brent Zeller." He leans against the lockers next to me, almost looming.

I look at Brent, vaguely registering I met his mother in the supermarket some weeks ago. He’s remarkably average, slightly baby faced, blue eyes cold and watery, although most girls my age would see him as attractive. He's cocky, arrogant. Looking down at me, taking me in. I don't like him. I look away, uncomfortable, and my gaze falls on his outstretched hand.

Well, no elegant way to solve this than to just refuse, I guess. His hand lingers in the air, before he pulls it back, confused. The silence is beyond awkward.

"I can surf." Wyn mumbles, apparently unaware of what just happened.

"Sure you can," Brent snorts. "In your dreams."

"Like you're any better." Wyn says, annoyed. He crosses his arms as an angry flush appears to creep over his fine cheekbones.

I would rather be on the moon that stuck in this suffocating testosterone. To hell with it, I’ll see Declan later.

Brent laughs, just as I go to turn away, a cocky sound that makes the air grossly sticky. "I never said that. I know where my skills lie." He says meaningfully, catching my gaze again.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Out. I need out.

Air. There's not enough air.

"Cass?"

It's Declan and he's my savior right now. Without another word, holds his hand out to me and I bolt towards him, leaving Tatiana, Brent and Wyn behind. He doesn’t say a word, but he pauses a step or two away to glance over his shoulder at the little group I had been standing in. I’m not sure what Declan is doing, but I see his hand clench out of the corner of my eye.

He then guides me outside, not speaking and not turning around to even see if I am following. It's this steady support I need right now, and I fleetingly wonder how he knows.

It's cold outside. A light rain is falling, the kind that soaks you through without you noticing it. Declan doesn't seem bothered by the wet and takes me to a quiet corner, hidden from the rest of the school.

"Breathe," He says lowly. "Steady, now. Focus on deep breaths. Hold your breath for a moment if it's going too fast still."

Through the ringing in my ears I can hear his voice and I do as he says, holding the wall for support as now finally the full panic seems to hit.

Declan is quiet, sending a text as I breathe deeply, concentrating on my heartbeat. Slowly, I calm down again.

"I'm sorry I was late," He says, shoving the phone back in his pocket. "I go held up going over some test questions. It won’t happen again. I was hoping to prevent things like this…but–" Declan cuts himself off and waves a hand towards me vaguely.

As if that explains anything.

I look up at him and see he’s genuinely worried. But what things? What is he talking about?

I guess he notices my confusion because he elaborates after pushing a breath out of his chest forcefully and looking away. Declan drags a hand through his hair and across his face, and I notice there is a bit of pink across his nose. A sunburn? "You're bound to get attention. You're—you know….” He stares at me hard for a moment and then blinks in surprise. “You’re new, and you're interesting. I know you don't like it. Fucking Brent Zeller… God, I want to punch him."

This time I’m the one blinking in surprise.

"He's a pompous ass. Ignore him if you can. If he comes on to you again, let me know. I've been wanting an excuse to put him in his place."

Hearing Declan wanting to punch someone’s lights out is definitely surprising, but there is no fear in me as he says it. No fear to match the absence of violence in his tone.

I pull my phone from my pocket.

Why are you so nice to me?

Declan leans forward to read what I’ve said. He purses his lips, but when he looks up at me again his eyes soften into a smile. "We’ve talked about this, Cass.” He says. "You're a nice girl, and you deserve some kindness in your life…I’ll protect you."

(The sunburn comment made me laugh so hard. I'm like "Cassia. Honey." And poor Dec is all "Please just let me tell her she's CUTE.")

(She is innocent baby)

(I definitely do not curl up with my mom any chance I get.)

Luckyyyyy.

In Trig, Iona is very worried about me. I can see her looking at me again and again, but the teacher calls her to attention and keeps a close eye on her. I can see her frustration and finally I slyly send her a text that I am okay now, that Declan helped me. She reads, then sighs happily and smiles. From where I am, I can see how her shoulders relax.

Lola looks around at me and smiles, but it's more a sneer than anything. I don't know what she wants to achieve. I can't read her, apart from the obvious ominous vibe I am getting from her. I don’t understand why she wants to target me so. Would it be because I didn’t speak with her in the kitchen that one day?

But—I don’t speak to anyone?

I shake my head to myself, baffled.

Lola and Cate are on full bitch mode in Spanish. I make a point to ignore them as they whisper loudly. I am sure that come lunch, or come Declan, they'll be pissing rainbows again.

As expected, Declan is waiting casually against the wall of lockers for me at the end of Spanish, pointedly ignoring Lola and Cate as I avoid making eye contact with him.

“I’ll protect you.”

Yeesh. What does that even mean? A faint burning tickles my face and all the way down to the tight ball of nerves around my heart, easing it just a little. I’m not sure why.

He walks slowly, letting the more rowdy and loud students pass us on the way to the cafeteria. It's obvious he has something on his mind.

Which I guess is connected to the texts we exchanged yesterday.

I sigh softly and look at my fidgeting hands.

"I disagree, you know." Declan says softly once the hall is mostly empty and the thrum of other students has died away.

I don't look up. He knows I heard him.

"I think you are good company. And I do want to get to know you. It’s important to me."

My mind is a muck. I wring my hands, uncomfortable. Not with his presence, but with his persistence. I don't know how to warn him away when he doesn't listen. I don't want him to know of my past, either. I don’t know what to do other than to scare him so badly that not only will he run; he’ll never speak to me again. The thought makes it feel like my entire form is about to cave in.

When did I start relying on him so much?

"Look at me," He says softly, and the contrast in his voice is so big I do look up at him. His eyes are clear, sincere, but worried. "Why don't you let me decide for myself?"

I can't, Declan. I don't want you to know. My head shakes on its own. A miniscule little movement that decides so much for this budding relationship I’m terrified of.

He sighs, seemingly understanding that this conversation is not getting anywhere.

"Can I at least take you to and from your classes still?" The question is so quiet and hopeful that after a long moment I nod.

Declan walks me to the exit of the school, but when we reach the door, we see it's raining buckets. We can't go out in this weather, there's nowhere to take cover.

"I'm thinking you don't want to sit in my car?" He asks on an embarrassed grin, as if the sudden weather shift is something he should have known about in advance, and I shake my head, no. "Then I think we'll have to go to the lunchroom. Are you okay with that?"

I wish I could have put that off longer, but I guess I have to go there sometime. It's not allowed to hang in the hallways during lunch. Both of us heave a great sigh as we stroll back through the building. Rounding the corner to the cafeteria, the rush of voices gets louder with each step. I tense up further with every foot closer to the entrance, but I brace myself.

"You okay?" He asks as we reach the double doors.

I nod, not looking at him.

Declan stops just before we enter the crowded room. "I'm here for you, Cassia. I want you to know that. I am not going anywhere until you tell me to stay away. And—and even then, I'm here if you need me."

His words make me look up at him, and I can see the compassion in his face. The pink tint across his nose had appeared again, stretching all the way to his ears. Declan really isn't going away unless I tell him to. Although this makes a part of me happy, another part is pissed that he is giving me this choice. He is letting me make the decision.

I think he knows I won't tell him directly to leave me alone. He knows that deep down, I don't want that.

I'll have to warn him, though. Again, and again and again. I have to be clearer with him until he realizes the truth. Because in time, when he does get to know me better, and he will because I do share a house with him after all, he'll learn that it is indeed better to stay away from me.

It's up to me then to make sure I won't get hurt when he finally steps back.

But right now, the noise in the cafeteria is overwhelming and demanding every ounce of concentration I have. I take a deep breath and step into the full room.

Declan walks ahead of me towards the table where the others are sitting. Josh and Iona. Tatiana is there, too, cuddled into the embrace of a smirking Marissa. I see Wyn Yorkie, and a boy next on the other side of Tatiana I don't know.

Iona beams at me when I approach them, and Wyn jumps up to pull two extra chairs to the table.

"Is it raining too hard?" Marissa asks, munching on a sandwich.

Josh guffaws. "Scared your hair got messed up, Declan?"

"Scared Cassia will catch a cold. She didn’t bring her coat idiot." He replies as he sits down, beckoning me to have a seat too.

This is a huge step for me. Can I sit with them? There are a lot of people around, their voices creating a wave of noise in my head that is hard to drown out. I have to grit my teeth against it. I can feel so many eyes on me, almost if they are all daring me to sit, knowing that I won’t.

I walk up to the empty chair between Iona and Marissa, standing behind it and gripping the back for support.

"You okay?" Tatiana asks.

I swallow, then nod. The pairs of eyes right in front of me are kind and hopeful. It would be a shame to disappoint them all. Would they be very upset with me?

"Have a seat, Cassia." Josh says softly. "Do you want to eat? Drink?"

I shake my head.

"I'm getting some lunch," Declan announces. “Anyone else want anything?"

He takes some orders with a exasperate grumble and disappears.

"Sit down, Cassia." Iona says so softly only I can hear it. "You can do it. We're here."

I nod, more to myself than anything else, and resolutely take a seat.

From my peripheral vision, I see Wyn staring at me, until Marissa swats his arm. He blinks, then looks away.

He'll think I'm weird.

Which I am. But it doesn’t hurt any less.

It’s good though, he'll stay away. Which is what I want.

Wanted.

Want?

I wring my hands together. Why is this suddenly do difficult to decide?

To my left, Josh stretches, his huge arms reaching above his head. "I wish the rain would stop. I wanted to play football later."

"You have to do Calc." Iona says. She’s carefully sorting through a pile of chips before selecting one and popping it into her mouth.

Josh glares at her and to see him looking at her like that alarms me enormously. Iona, however, stays calm.

"No need to look like that. You know I'm right."

"Whatever, Bug. I'm working out first annnnnnd I’m dragging Declan with me."

She shrugs and looks away. I guess this is not the first time they have had a chat like this. But Iona was not at all impressed by Josh’s look. She's not afraid of him, in any way. I remember when we made the lasagna a couple nights ago and he swatted her playfully on the butt. She didn't even flinch then. Instead she laughed as tossed a zucchini at his head.

I had flinched when William had done the same thing. I still have a scar he gave me as punishment to show for it.

A shiver passes through me. Christ. What a thing to think about right now.

"Cassia?" Tatiana asks.

I look over the table at her. Tucked into Marissa, she has a lovely smile on her sweet face. She's actually very pretty, and her glasses only seem to enhance her beauty.

"Ehm, this is Chris. My brother. Think of him as the third dumby of the Trio of Dumbys." She says about the guy sitting next to her. "He wants to introduce himself but didn't know how, so I'm doing it for him. So, Cassia, Chris, Chris, Cassia."

I nod, but realize I'm frowning. It's still so confusing to me why people would want to introduce themselves to me.

Chris smiles and waves a bit. "Heya."

We both stare awkwardly at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do now. He has a similar air about him that Declan and Josh do and I assume that the three of them make up ‘The Trio of Dumbys’. Must be a sports thing, because Chris is almost as big as Josh is.

Chris coughs into a hand that is the same silky mocha color as his sister and continues to grin at me. “I—uh—nice to—"

"So, Cassia, do you really not want to come Saturday?" Wyn asks, bulldozing over Chris in his need to ask me his question. Chris doesn’t seem to mind and launches seamlessly into a conversation with Josh.

"Where are you going?" Declan asks as he comes back with a tray of food. He places it on the table as the others pick out what they had ordered.

Wyn looks slightly annoyed, it seems, by Declan's question. "We're going to Ontario Beach." He says flatly.

"Ah," Declan replies. Then he turns to me. "Do you want to go?"

I shake my head at him. Too many people. I just don't want to go. Besides, it'll be cold. And I don't like the cold or the wet.

"We can go there some other time," Iona says softly on my other side. "It's really very pretty there. Auntie will sometimes paint down there while the rest of us swim or just hang out. Once it warms up, it’s super fun. "

"Such a shame," Wyn says, unaware of Iona whispering to me. Or ignoring it, which is very well possible, too. For a journalist he's surprisingly unobservant. I've yet to figure out if he chooses to be when it comes to certain things. "It really could be fun. And you could get to know us better.”

"Like you'd talk about anything other than yourself." Marissa mutters under her breath, and I look down to hide my smile. Tatiana doesn’t hold back her grin nor her laugh.

I look back up at Wyn and shake my head again.

"You sure you don't need to eat anything? I could take you somewhere." Iona whispers then.

I shake my head at her, again. No need to. I'm used to go without food for longer periods of time. So far, it's going okay at school. I don't want to willfully add the stress of making myself eat here.

Finally, some conversation picks up around me and I can sit back tentatively, listening to the others as they talk about Ontario Beach. Josh contemplates going, but only if Iona will come, and if he’s not playing in the Saturday game. Iona had plans to go shopping with Tatiana that Saturday, so she's not sure. Declan has a game on Saturday so he can't, along with Chris. Marissa downright refuses without giving a reason.

Wyn is not happy that no one wants to join in on his fun and the group relentlessly teases him about it. I hear them saying that Brent, Lola and Cate are going, too. And somebody named Tyler, whom I haven't seen yet.

We sit through the rest of lunch. I pretend to not notice the stares of other students as I sit in the cafeteria, Declan and Iona like sentinels around me.

The others are quite relaxed, I notice. They banter for a bit, and I'm happy to notice that none of the James’ seems overly worried around me now. I'm not bombarded with questions of concern and I do hope they realize it really is easier for me if I don't constantly have to lie through my teeth that I am okay.

I mean, they can tell I am not, so why bother?

Although, I realize slowly, I am enjoying myself siting here with them.

After lunch, I walk with Declan to Biology. We're early and sit down at our table before the rest of the class comes in. Brent, as it turns out, is right behind us and comes up to our table as the rest of the students slowly enter the class. He leans on the table and I push my seat back to create some space between us. I easily disguise it as needing room to lean down into my bag.

"Are you sure that you don't want to come Saturday? I'm pretty sure we'd have a great time. You don't have to surf, you know. We could walk along the beach?"

I tense up, unable to look away from him. Never look away from danger. They prey on the weak.

"Christ alive. How many times does she have to say no, Brent?" Declan asks beside me.

Brent shifts his gaze to Declan, annoyed. "I don't think I was talking to you."

"You are now. Cassia doesn't want to come. She said no. Time to drop it."

"And that's up to you to decide?"

"It was her decision. Clear as day," Declan shrugs. "Apparently you are too stupid to get that."

Brent glares at Declan and I tense up further. Mr. Banner asks the class to attention however and Brent has to leave our table to get into his own seat.

"Asshat." Declan mutters, looking annoyed.

I look at him, still alarmed. I don't want him to get into any trouble because of me. He doesn't have to do this for me — I can take care of myself. If not, then still I don't see the problem, really.

Declan looks at me, his gaze searching, but he doesn't speak. Then he looks front again and doesn't say anything anymore through the entire class.

For the first time, the silence between us is awkward.

But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.

~O~

I make up a shit excuse after class that I want to ask Mr. Banner something. Declan is distracted and leaves, asking if I'll be all right as he has to go to Spanish. He's in a hurry, and I wonder if he has been warned for being too late several times already.

I hide out in the library again when I should be having Gym. I have hidden the slip I needed to have signed by every teacher in my closet at home. I'll just wait until somebody asks me for it, and then I hope I can pull off the lie that I lost it.

Because there is no way I could have the Gym teacher sign the thing.

I make a start on the extra homework I have been asked to do for Spanish, feeling good to be studying again. It holds such comfort for me, it's almost exhilarating.

In violin studies, Marissa chatters my ear off about music as I practice my scales. Mr. Moore allows me to sit in the back of the class with her, as he noticed that being in the front with the group makes my playing downright awful.

What he doesn’t know is that I did it on purpose hoping that he would let me do my lessons in the booths again, but no dice. Besides, sitting up her with Marissa is rather enjoyable. Her knowledge of music is expansive and incredible. From classical to modern, from popular to obscure, she knows it all.

I find myself listening to her more and more as she talks, nodding along to her musings and offhand remarks.

Once she notices the books and pieces I’ve chosen to study, she makes a few suggestions of her own. I leave the class feeling good and armed with an entire selection of artists to listen to.

Just after the bell rings, I make my way to the parking lot and seek out Declan's camaro.

I put my sweater hood up against the rain that is still falling. It’s not quite cold outside, even with the rain pattering on my face and hood. I didn’t even need the coat that I had left at home. Actually, I feel the last dregs of tension leave me as I stand against the side of the car. Who knew rain was so relaxing?

It's not long before the twins come out of the school, walking quickly towards the car. Declan opens the door from quite some distance so I can crawl in, and I do. It's really nice of him to do that for me.

When we arrive home, I again tell Emmy my day was okay, because it was in all honesty. If she’s surprised that I’m telling the truth this time, she doesn’t show it. Emmy asks me if I want to nap again and I am grateful for her understanding. School in itself is not bad, but the other people are.

I lie down on my bed, but it takes me quite some time to fall asleep, as Declan and his strange silence is wreaking havoc in my head.

I warned him to stay away.

I guess he finally listened.

It hurts me more than I thought it would.

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.