Last Breath (9 page)

But it wasn’t okay. The walk back to school was awkward, with Travis walking between the two of them, Ann monopolizing the conversation by prattling on and on about the upcoming dance, and Cassidy continually glancing around her for some sign of the black car.

When they arrived at the Quad, there was another awkward moment when Cassidy held the door open for Ann, only to realize that Ann wasn’t ready to come in just yet. She was hanging back, standing close to Travis on the walkway.

She wants me to go in so she can kiss him good night, Cassidy thought, and I’m standing here like an idiot holding the stupid door open. “See you,” she said quickly, and spun around, closing the door behind her and hurrying to her room.

The first thing she did was stride to her desk and yank the drawer open, rummaging around inside until her fingers closed around the purple envelope. She pulled it out. Anxiety made her chest rise and fall rapidly as she slid the invitation from its casing. The date in black ink
had
to be today’s date. It had to.

But it wasn’t.

The date on the invitation was clearly next Friday’s.

Nothing about the lettering suggested that it had been tampered with. The numbers weren’t smudged or smeared.

Moaning softly, Cassidy sank down on the bed, the invitation still in her hand. She had been hoping, right up until the very last second, that it was Cath Devon who had made the mistake, not Cassidy Kirk.

But there it was, right in front of her. The mistake had been hers, and hers alone.

What is
wrong
with me? she wondered miserably. I can’t even read a simple
date
without screwing it up in my head.

She felt foolish and embarrassed. But there was something else, too, something worse.

She was frightened.

What was happening to her mind? She was making some very major mistakes these days. That had never happened before. It wasn’t like her. Not like her at all.

There couldn’t be anything wrong with her medication. She’d been taking it for a long time now, and nothing like this had ever happened before.

Then what was it?

Absentmindedly, she checked her mail. A dental bill, an ad from the bookstore, and a long, white envelope addressed to her. No return address.

She slit the flap open with a fingernail and unfolded the letter inside. It was a typewritten acceptance from the musical group, Misstery. They would, it said, love to play at the dance being held by the psych majors. Not only that, Lola, who had signed the letter, added that because it was a fund-raising event, Misstery would waive its usual fee.

The letter greatly improved Cassidy’s mood. They’d be saving a lot of money, thanks to Lola’s generosity. Losing the fifty dollars from the TransAm wouldn’t matter so much now.

She tried to call Lola to thank her, but there was no answer. Well, of course not. Lola wouldn’t be home on a Friday night, she’d be out somewhere, performing. The phone call would have to wait.

It seemed like an awfully long time before Ann joined her in the suite, her cheeks rosy from being outside in the night air. The first thing she said was, “So, did you check out your invitation to the party? Did Cath really make a mistake?”

No point in lying. “No, she didn’t. I guess I read it wrong.”

No comment from Ann. She sat down on her bed and pulled a comb from her purse.

Cassidy didn’t want to hear what Ann had to say, and when the phone rang, she grabbed up the receiver as if it were a life preserver.

It was Sawyer, wanting to know what she’d done all evening.

The whole time she was reluctantly telling him, reliving her humiliation at Nightmare Hall but leaving out the part about the TransAm, Ann sat on her own bed, winding her long, blond hair in pincurls and watching Cassidy as if she were solemnly regarding a species from another planet.

Cassidy turned her back to Ann, facing the wall instead.

When she finally relented and told Sawyer about the TransAm, because she didn’t want him to hear it from anyone else, the doubt in his voice was so thick, Cassidy found it surprising that it was able to make its way through that skinny little telephone cord. Disappointed, she told him she had a headache, and hung up.

“If I were you,” Ann said around the bobby pin between her teeth, “I’d have that medication checked out.”

“And if I were you,” Cassidy replied lightly, “I’d mind my own business.” In the indignant silence that followed, she turned off her bedside lamp, pulled the comforter up around her shoulders, and flipped over on her side, her back to Ann again.

But it was a long time before she fell asleep.

Sawyer called early the next morning, when Cassidy was just coming out of the shower.

“It’s for you,” Ann said crisply, handing Cassidy the phone. “It’s Sawyer.”

Cassidy smiled, said “Thanks, Ann,” and took the phone.

All three of her roommates left to get coffee.

Sawyer said, “I had Tom Lucas, a friend of mine who works in the administration building, run all of the car registrations on campus through the computer.”

Cassidy gripped the receiver. She was about to find out exactly who on campus was using his very expensive, very impressive, but very creepy car as a weapon against her. Maybe when she knew who it was, she could figure out the
why
of it. And stop it from ever happening again. “Who?” she asked. “Who does the TransAm belong to? Is it someone I know? What’s his name?”

“Cassidy,” Sawyer began. He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Cassidy, there is no TransAm, black or any other color, registered at Salem University.”

“T
OM CHECKED TWICE,” SAWYER
said when Cassidy didn’t respond. “He said Salem has more foreign sports cars than Beverly Hills, but no TransAm. Sorry.”

When Cassidy found her voice, she said. “But I
saw
it! It’s black, with tinted window glass.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t see it.” Sawyer’s voice was sympathetic. “All I’m saying is, it didn’t come from campus. It could be from Twin Falls, Cassidy.”

“I don’t know anyone in Twin Falls.”

Her roommates entered the room. Sophie was carrying a cardboard tray filled with steaming Styrofoam cups. Cassidy took one gratefully and sipped from it. The hot coffee cleared her head. “I don’t know a soul in town,” she repeated as the trio went into Talia and Sophie’s room.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Sawyer pointed out. “The guy could be a psycho. He may have picked you at random, the way serial killers pick their victims.”

“Whoa!” Cassidy cried, her eyes wide with alarm. “How did we get from weird car games to serial killers? And I’m
not
a victim, Sawyer.”

“Not yet.” Then he quickly added, “Look, I’m not trying to scare you. I just meant, someone who’s really whacko, like we’ve talked about in psych class, doesn’t need a reason to do things. Doesn’t even need to
know
the people he picks on. So the car could belong to someone in Twin Falls, that’s all I’m saying.”

The idea that a stranger, someone she had never met, had targeted her, was far more frightening to Cassidy. If it were someone she knew, maybe someone she had inadvertently offended, she could approach the person, make amends, straighten things out. But a stranger, with no real motive, how could she deal with that?

She thanked Sawyer for his help, told him she’d see him at the football game that afternoon, and hung up. When she had taken her medication, washing it down with coffee, she went into Sophie and Talia’s room. It was crowded with stuffed animals of Sophie’s in all shapes and sizes, and Sophie was sharing her chair with a life-size stuffed alligator wearing jeans and a Salem sweatshirt. Ann was sitting on the foot of Talia’s bed, filing her nails.

Cassidy decided against sharing Sawyer’s news with them. None of them had ever seen the TransAm. If she told them that no such car was registered on campus, they’d think…well, she knew what they’d think.

“I called Cath and told her she didn’t make a mistake on the invitation,” Ann said. “I didn’t think you’d mind. The remote possibility that she might have screwed up was driving her bananas.”

Cassidy stiffened. Why did Ann have to bring that up? She didn’t want to think about it this morning. “Cath didn’t sound at all unsure last night,” she said, sitting down on Sophie’s bed. “She sounded absolutely positive that she’d put the correct date on every invitation.”

“Oh, Cath might have sounded like that,” Ann argued mildly, “but trust me, she was biting her nails. I told her the truth so she could relax.”

Sophie’s and Talia’s silence made it clear to Cassidy that they, too, knew the correct date had been on her invitation. Ann must have been quick to set the record straight. She’d probably called Travis and told him, too. Cassidy could almost hear Travis’s reaction: “Well, I
told
her she was going to self-destruct if she didn’t slow down. I guess I was right.”

“Thanks for sharing, Ann,” she said, sarcastically.

“Cassidy,” Talia offered, “if you want me to, I could talk to my mother. She might have some advice for you. And it wouldn’t cost anything.”

“Advice about what, Talia?” As if she didn’t know.

Talia flushed. “Well, I just meant…”

“I know what you meant,” Cassidy interrupted. “You think I need a shrink. All of you are thinking the same thing. Well, it seems to me that what I really need is an
eye
doctor. Anyone have one of those for a parent?”

Silence.

Turning to Sophie, Cassidy asked stiffly, “Sophie, have you had time to get to the bike shop? I’ve got that ride coming up.”

Sophie flushed guiltily. “Oh, gosh, Cassidy, I’m sorry. I forgot! I’ll do it this week, I promise. Your bike will be ready in time for your ride.”

“Aren’t you coming, too? You’re a member. I thought that was why you were getting your bike chain fixed.”

Sophie’s flush deepened. “Can’t. I forgot all about the ride and made a date with this really cute guy in my government class. But I’ll still get the bikes fixed.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” Cassidy said, wondering at the same time if she shouldn’t take her bike to the shop herself, just to be on the safe side.

But Sawyer had said, “delegate,” and that’s what she was doing. She couldn’t throw her hands in the air the minute someone forgot something.

Anyway, look who’s talking, she thought as she left the room. Sophie may put things off, but when’s the last time
she
showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or was it the right place at the wrong time? Whatever.

Getting the date wrong for the party had dealt Cassidy’s self-confidence a serious blow. Before she left for the game, she found herself double-checking everything. Was her watch on her wrist? Had she switched her inhaler from last night’s small clutch bag to her everyday shoulder bag? It was sunny out—were her sunglasses in her jeans pocket?

Remembering the severity of her asthma attack on the highway, she checked her purse three times for her inhaler.

“Come on, Cassidy,” Talia said impatiently from the doorway. “We’re going to miss kick-off.”

“Sorry, I’m coming.” Cassidy grabbed a blue knit hat that matched her sweater, slung her purse over her shoulder, and hurried to the door.

“Too bad Ann had to baby-sit,” Talia commented as they emerged from the dorm into a crisp, sunshine-filled day. Large and small clusters of students were headed across campus toward the stadium.

“She didn’t
have
to,” Cassidy pointed out. She was still annoyed with Ann for hinting that Cassidy was seeing things. And at Talia, too, for suggesting psychiatric help. “She could have said no.”

“She’s worried about her grade in that class. And I think she feels sorry for Dr. Benham, raising three kids by herself. Those kids are monsters. They drive Ann nuts.”

“Well, at least she has an excuse,” Cassidy muttered under her breath. No one heard her.

Cassidy wondered, since Ann was busy, if Travis would come to the game alone.

She was acutely conscious of eyes on her as they climbed up into the bleachers. Flushing painfully, she told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. You
knew
, she scolded silently, that everyone on campus would hear about the invitation screwup. They’re staring at you because they’re curious about what kind of an idiot goes to a party on the wrong night. Can you blame them?

She tried to shrug off the stares, but when they were seated, halfway up in the stands at the forty-yard line, she could hear whispering behind and around her.

It disgusted her. Why were they making such a big deal out of a silly little mistake?

And then she realized that it couldn’t just be that. Anyone could read an invitation incorrectly. She couldn’t have been the first person in the history of the world to show up for a party on the wrong night. So that couldn’t be the only reason for the whispers and the stares. There had to be more.

Well, there
was
more, wasn’t there? After all, everyone probably knew by now that she’d also shown up for psych class an hour late. And maybe they’d heard about the TransAm, too. The car that no one but Cassidy Kirk had seen.

So it wasn’t just the invitation they were whispering about. It was the whole picture.

And not a pretty picture at all.

It took all of her strength to dismiss the stares and whispers and concentrate on the game.

Sawyer and several of his friends arrived five minutes after the ball was put into play, but there was no room left in Cassidy’s row. He shrugged, waved, and continued on up the bleachers, mouthing that he’d see her at halftime.

Cassidy didn’t see Travis anywhere.

When Salem scored two touchdowns within minutes of each other, Cassidy’s spirits lifted. The stares and whispers had been banished by the excitement of the game. She could relax and enjoy the game. It was a beautiful day, perfect football weather, she was with friends, and so far today, she hadn’t messed up, big-time. So far.

Of course it was only the middle of the afternoon.

At halftime, the score was Salem University 16, State 0.

“Let’s celebrate with a Coke and a hot dog,” Sawyer said as he came up behind Cassidy. The stands had emptied the minute the gun went off, with everyone in a hurry to get to the refreshment stands before a long line formed. Talia and Sophie had gone with the crowd stampeding down the steps, but Cassidy had remained in her seat, waiting for Sawyer.