The Call of the Others

Chapter 7

Cassandra whistled at the crater formed by the firework. “Big one.”

And it was—not too wide, not too deep, but nonetheless, fricking huge for what a firework could do. Black, scarred grass surrounded the ditch. That could’ve been Cary. Cassandra shuddered.

“Just missed him. The biggest one. Made it himself, too,” Joe said. He didn’t know why, of all people, he chose her to complain to; perhaps because she was only one he could gripe to about Alice. She nodded. Seeing a stone, she kicked it.

“He tripped over this?”

“Yep.”

She picked up the stone and hurled it into the weeds nearby. Joe laughed.

“You are so weird.”

“I know.” Knowing he wanted to rant about Alice, she asked, “What happened at the hospital?”

“She said if I helped you in this ‘ridiculous scheme’—she said that, not me—that she would break up with me.” Joe sighed. “Why is she so against this?”

“Because she is a self-absorbed, prying, pathetic little brat whose life sucks so much she can’t stand for other people to be less miserable than her.”

Joe said nothing. Oops, Cassandra thought.

“Sorry, I—I mean, she just stirs up so much drama and. . . We clash.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered. “She said calling me compassionate was a mistake, though.”

“Because heaven forbid you have any self-confidence.”

“No…” he struggled. “That’s not it.”

“Then you just can’t have any more than her.”

He gave up and changed the subject. “Then at school, it was like nothing happened.”

“Of course not. She has no other friends, and she feels sorry for you.”

“Why?”

“Your mom died, you used to be a loser, and everyone kept taking advantage of you. She wasn’t much better, though. She isn’t much better. One of the worst offenders, actually.”

He should have expected this. Not understanding (like him), just an anti-Alice tirade.

“So what should I do?”

And she said, the first time these sweet words reached his ears in the past year, “Do whatever you want.”

Oh. My. Gosh.

Great. What do I want?

He spoke these last words out loud.

“Joe,” she said, orbiting the crater, “you will find out. I promise.”

So…cliché. And Cassandra knew it. She laughed. Then she grew serious.

“So as great as it is that Cary wants to help, I don’t think he can.”

“I know.”

“So can you get Charles to help us?”

“You honestly think I can do that? Me? With Charles?”

“Yes. Just be assertive. Don’t let them take advantage of you anymore.”

“I will be assertive,” he said, testing the words.

But the next day, he wasn’t. He was reviewing his flashcards (yes, those flashcards) preparing for the vocabulary quiz the next class, instead of working on Charles’s conversion.

“Hey, Joe,” Alice said, quite casually, “Can I borrow those?”

“Yeah,” he said, holding them out. “Wait, I have to get rid of…two…just some…cards.”

“What?” she said, reaching for them. He drew back and tried to remove the two cards. She persisted, trying to yank them away.

“Alice!” Cassandra yelled, exasperated, “They are his cards, don’t forget. Not yours.”

“Shut up, Cassandra,” Alice snapped. “Seriously, Joe just give them to me.”

Be assertive. “Okay.” He handed them to her. He saw her facial expression as she reached those cards. And she laughed. She laughed.

“That’s so cute, Joe!” she said. Cute, he thought, half-heartedly. I’m cute.

“What?” Charles asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said.

Thank goodness.