Page 17 of Pretend for Me

Wyatt rose from his seat at my desk but didn’t move. “Oh, Arthur told me that Natalia wanted to accompany you to the company’s anniversary party and you declined her invitation. What’s that about?”

“Natalia and I will never be anything. She’s just not my type.” Another lie. They just kept coming. I didn’t really have a type, but if I did, her name would be Cassie. “I’m focusing on work for the time being—no distractions, like you always say.” I added the last part for Wyatt’s benefit.

Wyatt marched off, but as he reached the doorway, he called out. “When will you learn to recognize the right kind of woman for this lifestyle? You really shouldn’t be so choosy.”

After my father had stomped down the hallway, I fell back in my seat, exhausted from our exchange and the events of the last few days. When did life get this fucking hard?

10

THEN

Age 6

“Cassie, please, you’re going to get us both in trouble,” Matthew whisper-yelled through the bushes.

“Oh, Matty, stop being a fraidy cat. I thought I saw it this way.” She pointed to a tree even farther from their current location. Matthew groaned but followed her.

They had been looking for Mr. Sprinkles for two hours now. If they didn’t find him soon, Helen would have both of their heads for supper. She liked the fluffy white Persian cat more than the children on a good day.

Cassie ran ahead, trying to see if the cat would recognize the treat container she was shaking around.

Meow.

The cat was in one of the trees above them, but seeing as it was nine-thirty at night and pitch-black outside, they couldn’t tell which tree. The flashlight in Matthew’s hand was no use.

“Cassie, let’s go back. We’re already going to be in so much trouble for letting him out anyways. Maybe if we tell the truth, itwill be okay.” Matthew knew that the last part was a lie, but he also knew what her subsequent request would be, and he hated that more than the wrath of Helen.

“Matty, give me a boost. I’m going to climb the tree and see if I can grab him.”

“No, you’re going to get hurt. The cat can wait. Let’s go. Helen will beat us if she realizes we leftandlet the cat out.” Matthew began pacing back and forth.

Cassie walked over to him, flashing him a grin and grabbing his hand. “Please.”

Powerless to say no to her, he leaned down, cupping his hands so that she had a place to put her foot, and Cassie boosted herself toward the branches. Grabbing the first one she could find?—

Snap. Boom.The branch snapped off the tree, and Cassie was now on the ground next to Matthew.

“Ow, it hurts, Matty, it hurts!” Cassie began crying and reached for her left arm.

“Come on. We need to get Helen.” Matthew dreaded telling Helen about this. He already got cracked for not running the dishwasher before dinner on Thursday.

The doomed pair stumbled home in the dark, leaving the flashlight somewhere in the park, two blocks away. Matthew was doing his best to comfort Cassie but was having difficulty not panicking over Helen’s reaction to this. He hated when Cassie got in trouble.

Despite being in the foster home for the past two years, she never got used to it. Cassie did develop a nervous tic where her hands shook when she got anxious, which was pretty frequently around Helen and Aaron. Oftentimes, her nerves were the cause of a lot of punishment since they made her drop and spill things.

Matthew and Cassie turned the doorknob slowly, thinking that maybe Helen would be sleeping or too busy fighting withAaron to notice they were gone, let alone her precious kitten, who she had just adopted four months ago. They could pretend Cassie fell out of bed or down the stairs.

However, luck was not on their side. The second the door flung open, they were met by Helen, Aaron, and Flynn. Logan and Lana were probably still fast asleep.

“You bastard! How often do I need to beat your ass before you learn?” Helen yelled before turning to the ignored little girl. “And you, Pippi Longstocking, you worthless little girl, where’s my cat? I saw you petting him this afternoon,” Helen spat in their faces.

Cassie moved her non-injured arm to wipe the saliva from her cheek. Matthew saw the motion and winced, knowing she was adding insult to injury. Of course, Cassie didn’t intend to; she was just horrible at pretending.

“Helen, please, Cassie is hurt. She needs a doctor,” Matthew pleaded, hoping she could spare a lecture and eventual beating for one more day.

“It’s Miss Helen to you. You know better than to talk back.” She rolled her eyes and moved him out of the way.

Helen took in Cassie’s appearance: Cassie’s arm was gushing blood and must have been fractured at the very least from the way the bone was protruding. Her dress was tattered and stained red. That was one of her last good ones.

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