Last Breath (11 page)

She had thought that she knew Travis and Ann really well. Wrong on both counts. Maybe Ann was actually as demanding as Travis. In that case, they should get along perfectly. A match made in heaven.

“The music’s great, isn’t it?” Travis asked as the song ended. “So, is it all set for Misstery to play at our dance?”

Cassidy nodded. “But I need to talk to Lola about the details. Maybe I can do that tonight.”

So, when the band took a break, Cassidy signaled to Lola to join them at their table. She seemed grateful for the opportunity to sit for a few minutes, and gratefully accepted the cold drink Sawyer handed her. “It’s hot under those lights,” she complained, yanking her long, blonde hair high up on her head and fastening it with a clip. “I should be used to it, but I’m not.”

“You guys are great,” Cassidy said, meaning it. “And it’s really nice of you to waive your fee for our dance.”

Lola took a long, deep swallow of her drink, sat the cup down on the checkered tablecloth, and looked at Cassidy. “Dance? What dance?”

T
WO OR THREE SEPARATE
conversations had been taking place around the crowded table. When Lola said, “Dance? What dance?”, everyone stopped talking at once. An apprehensive silence descended upon the group like a dark cloud.

Cassidy laughed nervously. “Very funny, Lola. As if you didn’t know. The dance we’re giving for the mental health clinic. Two weeks from tonight.”

“Two weeks from tonight,” Lola said emphatically, “we’re playing at a high school dance in Juniper, about an hour from here. We signed the contract yesterday afternoon.”

The silence at the table thickened, became ominous.

Cassidy cleared her throat. “No, Lola, that’s not possible. You must have your dates mixed up. Remember, I wrote you about our dance. And you sent back a confirmation. I have it in my room.”

Lola laughed. She reached up and brushed back a sweaty lock of hair from her face. “Cassidy, I don’t sit down and write formal notes of acceptance. I’m a musician. I don’t even own any stationery. We do everything by phone. A quick call, a yes or no, and then we sit down with the client and sign a contract. I never signed a contract with you. And I don’t remember getting any letter from you, either.”

Clutching at straws, Cassidy said desperately, “Don’t you read your mail?”

“Of course. I read all of it.” Lola grinned. “Just in case some big recording company is writing us with an offer. And I’d remember if there’d been a letter from your group, Cassidy. There wasn’t. If there had been, I wouldn’t have just blown it off. That’s not the way we operate. I’d have called you. There
was
no letter.”

Shock and dismay had rendered Cassidy speechless. She could think of nothing else to say. Lola seemed so certain.

As everyone stared at her accusingly, Cassidy thought, No, no, this isn’t happening. I wrote that letter. I did! And Lola wrote back to me.

“I have the confirmation letter in my room,” she said softly.

“Well, if you do,” Lola said, standing up, “it’s not from me. Sorry about the dance. Wish I could help, but we can’t be in two places at once, can we? Let me know how it goes. Gotta get back to work now. Have fun.” The fringe on her suede vest swung as she walked back to the bandstand.

Cassidy stared after Lola’s departing back. Have fun? Impossible now. Everyone at the table was staring at her with looks that ranged from disappointment to undisguised disgust.

“We were counting on Misstery to draw a big crowd,” Travis said.

Ann nodded. “It’s just not going to be the same without them. Besides, I told everyone they were going to
be
there. Good thing we hadn’t put up any posters yet.”

“Well, we’ve already sold a lot of tickets,” Sophie said. “I don’t think people will cancel and want their money back just because Misstery isn’t going to be there. We’ll get another band.”

“Where?” Talia asked. “It’s late. If a band is any good at all, it’ll already be booked for two weeks from tonight.”

“Well, we can’t have a dance without a band,” Sawyer pointed out. “We’ll have to find someone.”

“Or hire a deejay,” Ann said gloomily. “No one’s going to like that very much. A dance with black-and-silver decorations and candles on the table should have live music.”

Cassidy listened to all of this with growing misery. No one had said aloud, “How could you mess up like this, Cassidy?” But she knew they were all thinking it. “I can show you the letter of confirmation from Misstery,” she said defiantly. “It’s in my desk.”

No one nodded or said, “Sure, of course you can, Cassidy. We believe you.”

“And I’ll get another band,” she added quickly.

“No, that’s okay,” Ann said hastily, “I’ll do it.”

Now, everyone nodded. Their eyes avoided Cassidy’s as their heads bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

The nods were every bit as insulting as open accusations would have been. Her friends no longer trusted her.

She
had
to show them that letter of confirmation from Misstery.

As if the atmosphere at the table wasn’t depressing enough, a few minutes later, Tobie Shea came by with her date in tow. She stood behind Ann’s chair, opposite Cassidy, her eyes suspicious. “Something’s going on,” she said flatly. “You guys all look like you just got suspended from school. What’s wrong?”

Before Cassidy could stop her, Ann was spilling the whole, dismal story.

“Okay, that does it!” Tobie said, surprising Cassidy with her vehemence. She no longer seemed the least bit quiet or shy. “I’m calling a meeting next week to find a new chairperson. I know you guys don’t want to replace Cassidy, because she’s your friend, but this dance is important and we need someone in charge who knows what she’s doing.” And she stormed off, dragging her embarrassed date with her.

“Don’t worry about it, Cassidy,” Sophie said after a moment of painful silence. “We outnumber Tobie and her friends. You’re not going to be replaced.”

“Maybe I should be,” Cassidy said quietly, and got up and ran from the table, taking refuge in the rest room.

It was small, and crowded. She stood at the sink, staring into the mirror at a pale, bewildered face. What was happening to her? How could so many things go wrong so quickly? She had worked so hard to prove that she was capable, competent, healthy…no longer the sick, frail patient she’d been when she was little. And now it was all going wrong.

A tall, thin girl with dark hair in a French braid stood at the companion sink, talking over her shoulder to a friend. “There’s so much going on right now,” she said, applying eye shadow as she talked. “There’s the party next Friday night at Nightmare Hall; that should be a blast.”

Cassidy winced. Unlike her,
this
girl knew her social calendar.

“And then,” the girl continued, “the freshmen psych majors are putting on a great dance the following weekend. Sam North asked me. The basketball player? He’s so cute. And Misstery is playing, so I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I can’t wait!”

Cassidy felt sick. She turned and bolted from the restroom.

When she returned to the table, everyone was getting up, ready to leave. Their festive mood had been banished by Lola’s announcement.

That was fine with Cassidy. All she wanted to do was get back to her room and find that confirmation letter from the musical group. She was sure she’d put it in her desk.

But then, she thought as Sawyer took her hand and led her from the club, I’ve been sure of a lot of things lately, and I’ve been wrong about all of them.

She was relieved that no one felt like stopping anywhere to eat. They were back at the Quad in fifteen minutes.

Cassidy’s heart was pounding wildly as they approached 56A. She had said nothing about hunting for the confirmation letter. It would be too humiliating to let them know how desperate she was to prove herself right.

Of course, the minute she went to the desk and began fumbling around inside, they’d all know what she was up to. But then she’d find the letter, and she’d show, it to them, and it would be okay. Misstery still wouldn’t be playing at the dance, and that was a problem, but at least they’d all know she’d been telling the truth about the letter.

She made an effort to appear casual as she moved to the desk. Sophie and Talia went downstairs to get drinks for all, Travis and Sawyer sprawled on the carpet, and Ann lounged on her bed. Sawyer attempted to make conversation, but it fell flat. Their elation over the football win had completely dissipated, replaced by gloom.

Cassidy’s fingers moved quickly through the array of papers in her desk. Tuition and bookstore receipts, notebooks, the invitation from Nightmare Hall, photos, tons of notes from classes, old essays, charge card carbons…piles and piles of papers accumulated during the first few months of school.

When her fingers failed to come in contact with anything that felt like Lola’s letter, she bent over the desk, head down, and began searching in earnest, glancing up only once, to find Sawyer’s eyes on her in sympathy. He knew exactly what she was searching for. But there was something else in his eyes, something that rocked Cassidy to her core. Doubt.

There was doubt in Sawyer’s eyes as he watched her frantic movements at the desk. Sawyer didn’t expect her to find the letter. Because he didn’t believe it existed. That hurt so deeply, Cassidy felt as if someone had just plunged a knife into her chest.

Still, she kept looking. It was here, it
had
to be here. She’d find it. Then she could whip it out of the desk, hold it up high, let them all see it. Let them all see that she wasn’t losing her grip, that she knew what she was talking about, that she wasn’t seeing things.

When Sophie and Talia returned with the drinks, Cassidy was still searching, her head bent over the desk, her hands tossing papers left and right. She didn’t realize she was muttering to herself until Sophie said uneasily, “Cassidy, who are you talking to?”

Cassidy raised her head. They were all staring at her. Sophie’s face was worried, and the concern in Sawyer’s eyes had deepened.

And Cassidy realized how it must look. There she was, bent over the desk, tossing papers this way and that, muttering to herself like a maniac, her fingers flying frantically in an effort to find something no one believed she’d ever possessed.

No wonder they were all staring at her as if she’d just stepped off a spacecraft and antennae were sprouting over her ears.

“It’s not here,” she said, softly, giving up. “The letter from Lola. It
was
here, but it isn’t now. Someone must have taken it.”

But she knew without asking that no one in the room believed there had ever been a letter.

C
ASSIDY KNEW SHE SHOULD
just forget about the letter. There was no way to prove that she’d ever had it. And freaking out about it was just making things worse. But something in her refused to admit defeat.

“Lola signed it,” she said as she left the desk and sat down on the bed, hands folded in her lap. “She did. The letter said that because the dance was a benefit for the mental health clinic, Misstery would waive their fee. I was thrilled, because that meant we’d save a lot of money.”

“It’s weird that you didn’t tell us that,” Ann said. “I’d think you would have told everyone.”

“I forgot. I got busy and I forgot,” Cassidy said defiantly. She had meant to tell them, it was such good news. But then something else had happened and the letter had flown right out of her mind.

Out of the
hole
in her mind?

Her head ached. “It was such a nice letter,” she said almost dreamily, staring down at her fingers. She noticed that the pink nail polish was chipped on the little finger of her left hand. It looked gross. She would have to fix that, first chance she got. “For a musician, Lola writes a very nice letter.”

No one said anything.

Cassidy lifted her head. “Maybe it’s in your room, Sophie,” she said. “Maybe it got mixed in with your mail after I opened it. I think you should go look.”

Sophie and Ann exchanged a weary glance.

“Give it up, Cassidy,” Talia said. “Even if you found the letter now, Misstery is already scheduled to play somewhere else the night of the dance. We’ll find another group to play.”

“I think I know someone who might be able to get us a great group,” Ann said quickly. “Tobie Shea is a friend of Cal Donner, the lead singer for Tattoo.”

Cassidy’s upper lip curled in distaste. “Tattoo? They’re a rock group. Strictly rock. They wouldn’t play a slow, romantic song if you held a gun to their heads.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Ann glanced around at the other faces in the room. “Isn’t she?”

“No, she’s not,” Talia said heavily. “She’s right. Tattoo is okay, but not for the kind of dance we’re having. Their sound just doesn’t go with black and silver, candles and flowers.”

“Well, it’s not like we have a lot of choices on such short notice,” Ann snapped.

“Hey,” Sawyer said, “this isn’t a meeting of the dance committee, okay? We can talk about this stuff tomorrow. Sophie, put some music on. I’d like to relax a little before I call it a night.”

Cassidy stood up. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand the sight of any of them. They all thought her brain was turning to spaghetti. And they made her think that, too. “I think we should call it a night right now,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “Travis, we’ve got that bike ride tomorrow. If we’re too tired, we won’t be able to keep up with everyone else.” She had no intention of going on that bike ride, but if she admitted that now, they’d all want to know why. Sophie would ask her if she was sick.

She wasn’t sick. But everyone in the Hike and Bike Club would stare at her, whisper about her, expect her to do something weird or stupid. They’d be watching her, waiting to see what might happen. She couldn’t stand that. It would make her so nervous, she probably
would
do something weird.

Travis would just have to find out tomorrow that she wasn’t pedaling up the hill to the state park with the rest of the club. He could handle it. It wasn’t like he still cared whether or not Cassidy Kirk was around.