AT ELEVEN-FORTY AT NIGHT, CASEY SAT CROSS-LEGGED ON her bed. Some diehard crickets chirped outside. Electric current hummed in her ceiling. Casey wore her frilly baby-doll pajamas and listened to a sad romantic album.
She got off her bed and went to her door. She stood in the darkened hallway and listened hard. Mom and Dad's bedroom was black, and no sounds came out of it. A nightlight, plugged into the wall socket by JoAnne's room, made a bowl of brightness. It looked as if they were all asleep. Casey could hear the kitchen clock ticking downstairs.
She dropped down on her bed again and called Faye. She tensed as she heard the phone ring three times on the other end.
Faye's voice said, "Hello?"
"Hi."
"Who is it?"
"Me. Casey."
"Oh. Hi."
Casey worked a barrette out of her hair. She looked at Paddington, who sat like a furry Buddha in the corner, with Casey's Raggedy Ann and Pound Puppy and teddy bear tucked all around. "Did I wake up anybody?"
"I don't think so. You waited until late."
"Sorry. I had to make sure everyone was asleep."
"You really got grounded."
"Mom gets into punishment. I think she's working up some long-term stuff."
"You were a royal jerk," Faye said.
"I know, I know. Anyway, what went on at the meeting?"
"Nothing much," Faye said. It sounded like it was raining outside. "Mr. Anderson made a big speech about fund-raising, and Josh and Bruce and Cynthia stood behind him and made stupid cracks. There were about a hundred people there. Some of them looked like refugees from the Twilight Zone."
"What about being an editor?"
"You have to take a test for it," Faye said. "Next Wednesday, right after eighth period. Going to try?"
Casey shrugged and lightly stroked her cheek and upper lip with the barrette. "I'm not sure I'll have time."
"I'm going to try it," Faye said. "They had all these science-fiction freaks there. You know, Josh's friends. I'd like to have a chance to get some normal writing published."
Casey smiled. Again, it sounded like rain, but only for a second. "Anything else?"
She could hear Faye go icy at the other end. "Gee. I thought we could kind of pursue that theme for a while."
"What theme?"
"My writing. I wanted to show you something I churned out while I was supposed to be doing a lab report."
"Sure. Give it to me tomorrow."
"I thought I'd read it to you now."
"Oh." Again came the pattering noise. Casey looked toward her window. "It's kind of late."
"I know."
"Don't be sore," Casey said. "It's not my fault I had to call at midnight."
"Well, you were the one who stole your parents' car and went out to Smith's Point."
"Thanks a heap," Casey said coldly. "I counted on your support, not a lecture."
"Support for what?" Faye said. "Running like an idiot to Paul VanHorn because he wanted you to meet him on the beach? You could have made it for another time."
"That's none of your business," Casey said, trying to keep her voice low. "Everyone thinks I need two mothers."
"Maybe you do."
"Maybe you ought to butt out."
"Fine with me."
More pattering. Casey's chest tightened. "Hold on a minute," she said into the phone. "Something weird's happening."
"Really," Faye said.
"No, I mean it. Hold on." Casey set down the receiver and went to her window. She pulled aside the ruffled curtain with one hand. She couldn't see much; it was a dark, cloudy night. She could make out the whiteness of the patio table and the shadows of trees. The pool was covered for the winter and looked like a black hole.
Then a sudden spray rattled the screen. Casey jerked her face back. That wasn't rain, it was stones. Someone was throwing stones at her window.
She turned off the record player and pressed the light switch. The lamp by her bed went out and her room sank into darkness. The red numbers on her clock cast a glow on the brass base of her lamp.
Feeling clammy, Casey went back to the window. Now she could clearly make out the backyard furniture. Tree branches shook in a sporadic wind.
"Casey ... ! "
The voice came from the backyard! Casey nearly choked on her surprise. She thought of running into Mom and Dad's bedroom and waking them up.
She called out in a stage whisper: "Who is that?"
"Me."
"Who's 'Me'?"
"A pronoun."
"Huh?" She pressed her forehead against the screen, straining to see. Then she realized who it had to be. "Paul?"
"Right."
"What are you doing back there?"
"I want to see you."
"You can't see me. I'm grounded."
"No," he said. "I'm on the ground, you're up there."
She smiled, but she was scared. "You'd better get out of there." It hurt her throat to keep up the loud whisper.
"Come down," he said.
"I can't come down."
"Then let down your hair."
She laughed. She still couldn't see him. "Come on. I'll really get in trouble."
"I want to see you."
"I want to see you, too."
"So come on."
"Paul, I can't ... "
"Bull."
She felt as if her room was a runaway roller coaster and she had to keep gripping the windowsill to stop herself from being flung into the sky. "Paul, don't do this. I'm supposed to stay up here."
"Come down, or I walk."
The conflict wracked her. It was stupid. Her parents would never wake up. What was the big deal? The punishment was unfair anyway. And Paul was risking a lot by coming here. And she wanted to be with him. "I'm in my pajamas," she said.
"Take them off."
"Will you stop?" She stood very straight and still, while her mind rolled dice.
"So what's the deal?" he called up. His voice was getting a little louder each time.
"Wait there," she called back.
She moved away from her window and stood in the darkness while she tried to figure out how to do this. She wondered if she should turn her light back on. Then she saw the phone on her bed. "Oh, crap," she said. She lunged for the phone and slapped the receiver against her ear. "Faye? Are you still there?"
She heard a rushing sound. With a curse, she hung up. She'd explain it to Faye tomorrow. She moved cautiously to her chest of drawers and managed to claw out a pair of shorts and an old cutoff sweat shirt. It was a pretty shabby outfit, but she couldn't be choosy.
Casey felt like a burglar, creeping down the stairs one at a time. Even though the steps were carpeted, they squeaked. At the landing, she paused and listened so hard her ears hurt. Nothing. Don't go to the bathroom, JoAnne, she prayed.
She had to fish for the back door key on top of the washing machine. She clenched her teeth when the key made its loud click. She pulled open the door with a vicious tug; the warm weather had kept it swollen. The door made such a scrape that she stopped again and listened.
When she was sure that nobody was stirring upstairs, she pushed open the screen door and guided it edgily back until it clicked shut. The humid night rushed around her. The whole sky seemed to be moving.
"Paul?"
"Here."
She felt her way across the patio. The concrete stabbed her bare feet, and once she squished something slimy. She shuddered and moved on. She could feel her heart beating. She saw him standing against the house, where the kitchen jutted out.
He stepped toward her and she grabbed him and hugged him hard, digging her fingertips into his cape.
His cape?
She took a step back. "What are you wearing?"
"My Superman outfit."
She looked at him and a laugh fluttered in her throat. She couldn't see too clearly, but he wore some kind of cape around his neck.
"You're crazy," she said.
"Crazy for you."
"Oh, man." She threw herself around him again and kissed him wildly. He guided her against the shingling of the house so he could lean hard into her, and they made out with silent desperation.
She couldn't breathe by the time they took a break, and her heartbeat was a booming sound. She tried to hook her fingers into his waistband but couldn't get under the cape. "Will you take this thing off?" she said.
"I can't fly without it."
"You want to fly or feel my passionate fingers?"
"No contest." He untied the cape and it fell with a silken rustle to the patio. She hooked onto him and held him against her. He nuzzled her neck. She shrank at the tickling.
He said, "How long are you punished?"
"Three weeks."
"Nice."
She sighed, and idly stroked his arms. "Well, I guess I can understand why they got bent. I never did anything like that before."
"Like what, taking a ride to meet a guy?"
"Stealing their car and disobeying them."
He played with her hair. "Well, they wouldn't give you the car, so you had to take it."
"It still isn't right."
"They treat you like a kid."
She nestled against his chest. "There's not much I can do about it."
"You can do whatever you want."
"You want to tell them that?"
"You already did."
"And got punished."
He held her face between his hands. His eyes were invisible in the dark. "So what? Does it hurt?"
She felt a strange, swirling excitement grow inside her, a wild rebellion that tasted like forbidden liquor. "It's a pain in the rear."
"But it doesn't hurt."
"No, it doesn't hurt."
He rubbed his thumbs against her cheeks. "They can't hurt you, Casey. They can't do a thing to you. You don't need them anymore."
"Well, that's not entirely true."
"Why not?"
She sighed. "Oh, there's a little matter of twelve grand a year for college."
"You don't need that either."
"Who's going to pay it?"
"I meant college."
That startled her. "Paul, I'm not about to g1ve up college."
"Why not?"
"Come on."
"Why are you going? For your mother and father? Does it make you happy to go?"
"You're being weird."
His voice was rhythmic and seductive, like an exotic Latin dance. "You never dreamed of being away from your mommy and daddy."
"That's not true."
He kissed her, which she didn't expect. It was a hard, demanding kiss, and even when she wanted to stop he wouldn't let her. She tried to pull away. He jammed the heel of his palm under her chin and pinned her head against the shingles.
"Don't do that," he said.
"I'm sorry."
He released her head. "I'm trying to wake you up."
"I'm awake."
"Not until you say that you don't need them. They just want to own you. They get off on their authority trip. Do you love your parents?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Do you?"
"Well, they're my parents."
"Do you love me?"
"You know I love you."
"Can you feel it?"
She began to tremble. "Yes."
"Do you want me even when I'm not around?"
"Why are you asking all this?"
"Do you need me?"
"Yes."
"Do you need your mom and dad?"
"What kind of question ... ?"
"Think about it."
"That's stupid, Paul. You're not supposed to feel like that about your parents."
"Why not?" The clouds let through a thin white trail of moonlight. Sticks and leaves blew with a papery noise across the patio. "You felt like that when you were a kid, right?"
"I guess so."
"But things change."
"Yeah, they do."
His hands became intimate. She felt uncomfortable about it, with her mother and father sleeping upstairs. She tried to wriggle away, but he was immobilizing her.
"Are you all grown up?"
"Just about."
His voice harshened. "You're my lady. Are you ready for that?"
"Sure."
"Your parents don't care how you feel. They just want to control what you do. I'm the one who cares, right?"
"Probably."
"Absolutely."
"Okay, absolutely."
"You need me."
She nodded.
"Only me." He pinched the flesh of her arm between his thumb and forefinger. He dug into the muscle and she gasped in pain. Then he released her. She shut her eyes and rubbed her arm. He touched her forehead tenderly. "just believe it. We've got something special. But you have to give everything. You can't love me and worry about Mommy and Daddy. Mommy and Daddy don't count. Capish?"
"Yes." Then why did she want to run upstairs and crawl into bed with Mom and Dad? But Mom and Dad would tell her to stop being a child and get out. Which meant that Paul was right.
"Good girl." He embraced her warmly and gave her lots of small, sweet kisses. "just me, okay?"
"Mm hm."
"Nobody else gives a damn. Not even friends."
"Friends count, too," she protested.
"Friends stab you in the back."
"Not always, Paul."
"Always."
She linked her hands around his waist and tilted back her head as he kissed her. She thought about Heather giving her a hard time about her attitude, and Faye getting on her case just now—and hanging up on her. Come to think of it, at Glenn's party, Faye had tried pretty hard to get Casey to break up with Paul. And Lillian was just an obnoxious creep. Casey couldn't really think of any friends who had stood by her side. The girls on the team were all out for themselves. They cheered you when you won, but treated you like slime if you lost.
Casey kissed Paul back with angry eagerness. Her throat swelled with the pam of her self-pity. "I love you so much," she said.
"Forever," he whispered.
"Forever."
"Don't forget it. I'm here for you."
"And I'm here for you."
"I know," he said. "I want to make your life great."
"You already do."
"Just remember," he said. "You don't need anyone else but me."
"Okay," she said.
"I want to be your whole world, Casey."
"I want you to be."
"Come on. Let's have a drink on it."
She got a cold shiver down her spine. "Huh?"
He grabbed her hand. "I want to toast to us."
"Paul, I can't go drinking ... "
"Hey!" He yanked her against him and sharply twisted her forearm up behind her back, just hard enough to throb. "Remember what I said?"
She blinked hard. "But if they wake up ... "
"So what? They won't put you in jail. Come on, Case. You have to make your moves. I'm your man. I'm the one who matters. You don't need anyone else."
She looked up toward her parents' darkened window, and then back at Paul. "Just one drink."
He smiled and squeezed her tightly, releasing her arm. "Ten minutes with you is like a lifetime with a zebra."
"What?"
He laughed and hugged her again. A dog began barking. Wind moaned through the electric wires. The night seemed evil and alien and she wanted to be inside, with Paddington. But instead she held on to Paul.
Casey usually hung out in the library during eighth period, but she was so tired from last night that she went down to the music suite and stretched out on a big table in the band room. She made a pillow of her folded jacket and brought her knees up to her stomach as she listened to cars and radios and voices outside.
The noise of the door opening woke her up. The vast room seemed to spin for a moment before she focused on Faye.
"Oh, hi," she mumbled.
"Hi."
Casey sat up and folded her legs. She wore one of her dad's shirts, over a short skirt. Her bones felt rusty. "I'm out of it," she said.
"I can see that." Faye had her flute case with her, and her books. She sat down in one of the folding chairs that were scattered about the room. Black music stands made a tangled forest. The oversized windows were all open to let in hazy sun.
"Lesson this period?" Casey asked.
"Yeah. I'm just waiting for Mr. Small."
"Okay. I'll clear out."
"How come you never got back on the phone last night?" Faye asked.
"How come you hung up on me?"
Faye gave Casey a look. "I waited ten minutes for you to come back on."
"Okay. I'm sorry."
"So what's the story?"
"There's no story. What do you mean?"
Faye hugged her blue-jeaned knees and bent forward. "Was it Paul again?"
"Get lost."
Casey swiped at her jacket and slithered off the table. Her head spun a little from exhaustion. Faye's eyes followed her. "What did he do, come to visit you?"
"I can't believe you're giving me the third degree."
"One question isn't the third degree."
"It's a nosy question."
"Why? What's the big deal if he visited you?"
"There's no big deal." Casey felt her nerves rubbing against each other. "It's just private, that's all."
"Friends tell each other private things. That's the whole idea."
"Maybe the whole idea is that you feel you have to know everything so you can own me."
Faye gaped at Casey. "What???"
"Come on, Faye. You wanted me to break up with Paul right from the beginning. So did Glenn and everybody else. You've been working at it and working at it. Well, it's not going to happen."
Faye gave an incredulous laugh and released her knees. "You are bizarre. What's he been doing, brainwashing you?"
"I figured that's what you'd think."
"Well, what am I supposed to think? What are you so paranoid about? What did you do last night that you weren't supposed to do?"
"Get off my back, Faye. You're not my mother."
"So stop being afraid of me."
Casey wished Paul were here, so he could help. She couldn't think of answers the way he could. "Paul just made me see things in a different way. He's out of this whole high-school game. He has some perspective, and man, that's what I needed. Nobody went out of their way for me until Paul."
"And nobody beat the crap out of you until Paul."
"SHUT UP." Casey shook with rage. Her voice caromed off the high ceiling, bouncing among the exposed ducts. She felt her face vibrating.
Faye sat erect. Her eyes glistened and her voice quivered a little. "You can yell at me all you want, Casey, and you can tell yourself all the lies you want. I saw what your face looked like the first time he beat on you. Everybody knows about your headaches. And today you have a gorgeous bruise on your neck. Was it fun last night? Do you really like it?"
Casey felt wobbly, as if Faye had been punching her. "I can handle it," she said.
"Not unless you take karate lessons."
"You always have a swift remark, don't you?" Casey said. "What about you and Ed? I heard he cheated on you the week after he went out with you."
Faye reddened. "So what?"
"So did you break up with him? Or did you go back with him?"
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Because where do you get off lecturing me on my relationships? If you love a guy and he needs you, then you love him all the time. You don't give up on him. If you're his whole world you stick by him and you take the bad times with the good times. Paul and I have a commitment. A commitment is for keeps."
"Not if he hits you."
"Or if he cheats on you?"
Faye smacked a music stand, making it clatter to the floor. "You don't understand a thing. It's not the same. The worst I'm suffering is embarrassment. Paul is a psycho."
Casey felt cornered and hurt. Faye's words lodged like red-hot bullets in Casey's heart. But if Faye were even a little bit right, then Casey had nothing. So she fought for Paul, because she was fighting for herself.
"You're dead wrong, Faye," she said. "And you can't see it. I think it's because you had a hard time getting a boyfriend and the one you got is making a jerk out of you."
"Stick it," Faye said grimly. "I don't want to hear this garbage."
"Fine. But don't hand me your garbage. You're jealous of me, and so is Heather. You don't have me around all the time to dump on, and it pisses you off. Well, I'm sorry. I've got a man who loves me and he needs me to be there for him. A lot of people are going to have to understand that, like my mother and father, and my friends."
"You won't have to worry about your friends," Faye said spitefully. "There won't be any around."
"There never were any around," Casey said, wanting to hurt Faye. "Not when I needed them."
"You have some hell of a nerve saying that."
"It's the truth. You weren't there when I stood in the bathroom with my father's razor in my hand and I came this close to opening my wrists."
"Yeah, right," Faye said. "Like we all knew you were in your bathroom with a razor. When did this supposedly happen?"
"After I broke up with Mark Simon," Casey said defiantly. "When you allegedly knew how I was feeling. You didn't know a thing about how I was feeling."
"I guess Paul knows better."
"He knows exactly what I'm feeling. I never knew what it was like to matter that much to anyone. But I know now. And I'm not giving it up."
"Hooray for you," Faye said. "Just make sure your parents pay up their medical insurance."
Casey made a sour face. "Paul's taking care of his problem, and I'm going to help him lick it."
"I can see that."
The door opened and Mr. Small poked his head in. "You about ready?"
"Yeah. Be right in." The door closed and Faye stood up, gathering her stuff. "See you around."
Casey felt bruised all over. "You know, we can still be friends, Faye."
"Sure. Tell me when you can fit me in."
"Okay, if that's how you want it. Paul said you'd drop me if it meant competing."
Faye shook her head. "Unbelievable. I wish you could hear yourself, Casey. I really like you, but I'm not going to cry at your funeral."
"Don't even bother to show up."
"Don't worry, I won't."
Faye balanced her books and flute case while her hand curled around the doorknob and twisted. The door closed behind Faye, and Casey sat down hard on a chair. Outside, she could see white clouds against a soft blue sky and yellow leaves fluttering like tiny flags. She felt a little like she'd had a leg amputated.
She'd given up everything now for Paul. She'd gone drinking with him last night until one-thirty and she was sure she'd recognized a couple of Westfield kids in the bar. Mom and Dad were still asleep when she snuck back home, but Mom had looked at her really strangely this morning. Casey knew she must have looked totaled. So it would all hit the fan pretty soon. And now Faye wasn't talking to her.
Casey heard the faint melodic whispers of Faye's flute in the rehearsal room next door. Then the bell rang shrilly and made her jump. Almost instantly, kids started filling up the corridor and swarming outside toward the waiting buses.