A lot. I admit it. Quite a lot. I hadn’t allowed myself to really think about the something better, because I was too scared to lose the friendship. So, pretending to do Trig homework, I relaxed my mind, and allowed myself to imagine it. Me and Cassie, together, and not as friends.
I liked it. I liked it a whole lot. Even when I forced myself to forget the memory of the earth-shattering sex we had shared. I still liked it. I liked looking up in the stands at a game and seeing her there. I liked going to one of the band concerts and watching her play the flute. I liked having her by my side as we gathered with the gang at the Burger Hut.
It just felt… right. Everything I imagined, it felt right.
Good. Now I just needed to somehow tell her that.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN CASSIEI held it together through supper. I held it together while I did a bit of homework. I didn’t hold it together sitting on the couch with my mother late that night.
I spontaneously started crying.
Mom, of course, was concerned. She came over to the couch and hugged me while I cried. Only after I had calmed down did she say, "Cassie, what’s wrong?"
I told her everything. She fumed at the hyenas and their picture trick. She smiled as I told her about my experiences posing with Frankie in art. And, to her credit, she dealt pretty well with what had happened in my bedroom this afternoon. Mom’s not stupid-she knows I’ve been sexually active. She’s not that old-fashioned, though I know she used to be. She really does try.
I think, though, she was surprised it happened with Frankie.
"How was it?" she bravely asked.
I had to giggle. "I can’t believe you asked me that, Mom. Anyway, it was the best ever."
"And it only took you six years?" she laughed.
"Something like that," I laughed back. "Who knew?"
"Cassie, you know I’ve always thought the world of Frankie Gutierrez. That boy has a heart of gold. Never thought you’d see it, though. Not through the haze of idiots like Nick."
"Well, I’m an idiot, too," I admitted.
"Not anymore. Looks like you woke up."
"Not completely," I sighed-and then told her about the aftermath. "I lost my mind. I panicked, and completely lost my mind. And now poor Frankie, I have no doubt, thinks I just wanted him for a quick boink."
"That’s not what you want him for, though, is it?"
"No," I admitted. "I want him for keeps."
"You need to tell him."
"I know. If only I can get him to listen after today."
"You will," she smiled. "Cassie, I’m happy. Even if you are having, you know, sex with him. I am really happy. I hope it all works out."
"So do I," I smiled.
PART FOUR THURSDAY
"Hey, Rosa, will you get a move on? I want to get to school."
"What’s your hurry?" she replied.
"I want to get there early."
Rosa grumbled, but she complied. We set out for school early-even earlier for Rosa, as the middle school started 15 minutes after the high school.
"So, what’s so important that we get there so early?" she asked as we walked.
"I need to talk to Cassie."
"I talked to Tanya on the phone this morning, said Cassie was weird last night. I also heard about those pictures. That was horrible."
"Yeah. Cassie was weird last night?"
"Yeah, Tanya said she thought Cass was going to start bawling a few times. I guess the pictures really got to her."
"Well, no, I don’t think that’s it," I said.
"Why, did something else happen?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Well, what?" she pressed.
"None of your business," I grinned. "Sorry, but it’s not."
"Hmmm," was all she said. Anyhow, we got to school, and she found some friends at the middle school who were there early. I, however, wasn’t so lucky. Cassie’s Mom pulled up and let her off at the last minute. The warning bell rang, and we had to go do the undressing thing right away.
"Hey," she smiled at me. "I owe you an apology. For yesterday."
"Uhm, well, I was willing, so what are you apologizing for?"
"Not that," she laughed. "I meant afterwards. I didn’t mean to kick you out, but that’s what it sounded like. I’m sorry."
"Don’t worry about it." Then, we had to strip and head inside.
I sleepwalked through my next two classes, until history. She sat down next to me and smiled. However, before we could say anything, Mr. Riley, the teacher, came in.
We had been studying World War Two, and were talking about the Battle of Stalingrad. Mr. Riley had this map set for WWII, it was this big series of cylinders that hung from the top of the wall in front of the board. Each cylinder had a different map in it that you could pull down. He had been using the one for the Battle of Stalingrad the past day or so. You pulled it down, and it had a map of Stalingrad and the surrounding areas, crisscrossed with all the troop movements and battles and such.
He pulled that map down today-and I wanted to strangle someone.
Up the top, where it said "BATTLE OF STALINGRAD", Stalingrad had been crossed out, and "CASSIE’S STOMACH" written in below. Around the map with all the troop movements, someone had drawn a stomach and torso and thighs. And they had added more jagged lines in amongst all the troop movements on the map.
I really wanted those two assholes dead.
I looked at Cass, and she didn’t look like she was going to cry-which is what I thought I’d see. No, instead, she looked furious.
Mr. Riley was pretty pissed himself. "I want to know who did this! This is inexcusable! Not only did you ruin a map that’s part of a set that’s very expensive, you also humiliated a fellow student who’s trying to do something that takes a lot of guts."
"They didn’t humiliate me," Cassie spoke up. "They tried to humiliate me." I looked at her, as did Mr. Riley. She continued. "I know who did this, and they know, too. I also know who did the pictures that were hung up yesterday. I got all upset at those pictures, to the point where I almost dropped out of The Program. Which would’ve been stupid."
"Because you can’t humiliate me unless I allow myself to be humiliated. I have scars. I can’t hide them. There they are. What I’ve learned this week is that some people can see past them. Some people can’t. And, if you can’t, that is your problem, not mine."
Suddenly, she stood up. She was facing the whole class, but I knew who she was talking to. "Does this disgust you? Why? It’s just a few marks. OK, more than a few marks. But that’s all it is. It’s healed skin. It’s skin that was once wounded but now is healed. That’s all it is. It’s not me."
"This is the good part. Scars? Who cares about scars? I don’t have a fucking spleen! I don’t have half my right kidney. I don’t have about a foot of small intestine. I don’t have a right ovary. Think about that one. I want kids someday. A woman only has a certain amount of eggs. I lost half mine before I even entered puberty. I only ovulate every other month. And some of you are disgusted by scars."
"I have had to live with this for nine years. And some of you assholes can’t live with it for a week. Well, fuck you. I’m done hiding it. If anyone doesn’t like that-well, you all must be perfect. And it’s funny, I don’t see any perfect people in this room. Keep trying to humiliate me. It’s not going to work anymore."
"Someone told me yesterday that I was beautiful. That is what I choose to believe. I’m Cassandra Vyshenko, and I’m beautiful. Scars and all."
Oh, man, if I could’ve, I would’ve hugged her right then. As it was, I just joined in with the thunderous applause that spread throughout the class. Including Mr. Riley. The two hyenas not included, of course-but everyone else-even Paul, the guy that had dumped her on Monday.