Page 8 of Pretend for Me

Spaghetti landed in Helen’s hair with a splat, sliding down onto the floor, along the front of Matthew’s shirt, and even a little got stuck on the ceiling.

The other children looked on in horror. Matthew cringed and put his head down on the table. Cassie kept throwing spaghetti until Helen grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her new room. She locked the door and walked away, ignoring Cassie’s pleas for the light to be turned on or to be let out.

A little while later, Lana entered the room, taking inventory of Cassie’s appearance. But instead of providing sympathy, she scoffed and climbed up to the top bunk. Cassie hated the dark and had never been without a nightlight, so she was becoming paralyzed with fear of getting out of bed in the darkness.

The door peeled open with a creak, revealing a flashlight and a figure walking toward her bunk. She hid under her blankie as her breathing became irregular, and she shook like a leaf.

Once the lighted figure came closer, she peeked one eye out from the blanket, discovering it was no monster but a pajama-clad Matthew, tiny flashlight in hand.

He sat next to Cassie on the bed and held her hand. Matthew didn't know what he was doing but he knew he didn't want to be apart from this strange, brave little girl. A brave little girl who could be a friend; he never had one of those before.

Cassie showed him herVelveteen Rabbitbook, which had become somewhat of a security blanket for her on top of heractual security blanket. The unlikely pair snuggled on the bed, flipping through the pages. Cassie fell asleep quickly, whereas Matthew was always a night owl. Cassie’s blanket fell to the floor as she rolled into a comfortable position.

Matthew tugged it gently back on the bed and pulled it over Cassie’s small frame. He smiled—he knew this was the start of something beautiful and real.

The page that lay open on the bed read:

“You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

5

CASSIE

“Matthew.”

I slowly moved my body so I was facing the man who had broken my heart into a million pieces. I stared at the once jaded little boy who I fell in love with twenty-four years ago when I first laid eyes on him in Mrs. Davis’s kitchen.

Matthew looked wide-eyed and joyful, whereas I was skeptical and hurt. He hesitantly moved closer to me, most likely afraid I’d run off. Running away had become my specialty.

“Cassie,” he said again.

“I can’t—“ I held up my hand, moving toward the double doors once more, deciding to go back into the restaurant. I didn’t think Matthew would follow me, but I needed a moment to regroup, and now he was standing in front of the doors that led to my freedom.

“Well, this has been quite the surprise. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got tables to get back to.”If I still have a job. I tried moving around him, but he stood firm.

“Cassie, please. It’s been ten years. I have so much I want to say,” Matthew pleaded, his eyebrows furrowing as they did when he was stressed.

I pursed my lips, tempted by the thought of hearing him out. I wondered if he would say all the words I willed him to say that fateful night. If he still thought about me like I did him. If he still wanted me …

No!I forced those far-fetched thoughts out of my mind. I grew angry with myself as I realized how much power he still held over me. I really needed to get out of there.

“Get out of my way!” I demanded, moving to walk around him.

Matthew outstretched his arm to grab my hand. His hold wasn’t firm, not enough to stop me from leaving but just enough to give me pause.

I swatted his hand away as though I had been burned. How dare he touch me!

I slapped Matthew across the cheek, the crack echoing throughout the small space. My eyes widened so much that I was sure they looked like they belonged to a cartoon character.

Matthew winced, and he stood there with his palm resting on his cheek, patiently waiting. For what, I had no idea.

We both were too stunned to speak.

I shuffled my feet, ready to leave and face the proverbial music from Bridget.

“Beau’s dead,” Matthew blurted.

I looked at him for confirmation of the truth in his words, and when I saw how sullen and serious he was, I felt my eyes welling with tears.Not here, my internal voice reminded me,You can break down later when you’re alone.

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