Misfits

10.2 | still cheaper than therapy

We arrive just as night settles in.

"Go in," Flo instructs. "Send my love to Grandma Estelle and Grandpa Ben... and Morgana if she's in a good mood. And," she pauses, "good luck with everything."

"Thanks, Flo." I lean over to receive one last hug from Florence before getting out the car. 

Flo peers out the car window, her gaze drifting toward the garage next to the barn. "Is Lily's car still in the garage?"

I turn round, tucking my hands into my pocket. "She didn't take it with her to college?"

"It broke down quite badly, last I heard. Grandpa Ben said he'd fix it, so she left it here before going back."

I shrug. "It's probably fixed. I can ask him about it later."

Florence nods. "Alright. Text me. I'll come pick it up tomorrow." She starts to roll up her window when realises with a frown, "Oh wait, I don't think tomorrow actually works for me... And I'm busy the day after too..."

"I can bring it to you, if you'd like," I offer.

"Would you?" Flo perks up. "I guess there's no real hurry though, but that'd be great if you can." She raps on the steering wheel. "Anyway, go in now. It's getting late. See you later, Cassie."

"You too, Flo," I say as I wave goodbye.

Five minutes after Florence drives off, I am still outside.

I can't bring myself to waltz back inside like nothing happened — not after the way I stormed off. I didn't even stay to hear my grandfather's answer to my question. The way he stumbled over his words, looking to Grandma and Mom closing in behind me for a cue on how to answer, was enough. I walked straight past him and never stopped.

Childish? I know. Immature? You don't have to say it twice.

But going in now feels like admitting defeat.

It takes a sudden strong gust of cold wind to make a dent in my resolve. The weather is only going to get colder deeper into the night. I pull my sleeves over my knuckles and hurry towards the garage. If I'm not going to go in and make up, I might as well go check out Lily's car in the garage.

Lily's car is a beat-up two door convertible that passed its prime over a decade ago. It's a miracle she ever gets it to start, considering all she puts the poor car through, but Grandpa seems to have gotten the knack for restoring it back to life each time she trawls it in here with its groaning engine, wobbly wheels and all. It's probably why she keeps bringing it back here rather than leaving it with a proper mechanic.

I hover around the car curiously, peeping through the half-tinted window on the driver's side. It seems fixed, but there's no way of telling without starting it up. After a few minutes, I retreat from the car and glance around the garage for another form of entertainment to pass the time. The door connecting the garage to the barn catches my eye.

I haven't been in the barn since the time I ran into Logan's mom, Marceline talking with Grandpa Ben a few days ago. A queasy feeling returns to my gut when I think of the incident, yet I allow my feet to guide me through the small unassuming door into the large wooden barn adjoined to it.

The barn always felt a little eerie in the dark.

As I feel along the wall for a light switch, a brief memory comes to mind.

"She should check the barn. There should be plenty there as well."

The arches on my forehead draw together. Someone had brought up the barn not too long ago. Who was it again?