Page 292 of As the Rain Falls
“None taken. I still am.” She snorts, pushing me to get me to roll onto my side. I go down without any reluctance. “I thought you were so cool with your Justin Bieber hair.”
“Worst time of my life!” I pout. “Lucia said I looked like Toad!”
Cassandra bites her lower lip, fighting back another yawn. “Really? She didn’t like it?”
“I think she hated that my hair looked better than hers.” I shrug, closing my eyes shut. “Do you want to sleep a little more?”
“I’m already sleeping, my Becky.” She stirs, adjusting the covers around her body and curving herself against me. “See how my eyes are closed?”
I shake my head at her silly tone, letting exhaustion pull me under with her.
***
Mr. Rivera still thinks there’s a world where he and I are good friends. He doesn’t know that, for all I care, he and his wife can go straight to hell and never come back.
I can’t believe they let that man anywhere near Cassandra.
Nathaniel is a worthless excuse for a human being, and I won’t let this go down quietly. But for now, I have to respect Cassandra’s wishes and not call the police, at least not yet.
It’s a slippery slope, especially in Le Port, where her family holds power. They might not be the richest, but they are well-liked. I won’t put her at a disadvantage just because I spoke out of turn. It might be my fight to pick, but it is not my story to tell.
“I hope you know that Sainte Madeleine cares about you in these difficult times.” He slides a box across the table. Inside are Lucia’s academic files, her graduation photos, and remnants of her life stuffed into a cardboard coffin. “Lucia was a beloved member of our community. Her absence is felt wholeheartedly here.”
I don’t bother responding to the empty sentiment with anything else but a question. “Have you checked your bathroom stalls?”
He frowns. “No?”
A sarcastic smile rises, making the corner of my lips twitch. “Thought so.”
Instead of giving him more context, I pay closer attention to Lucia’s stuff.
My touch lingers when I find one of her pictures.She’s staring at the camera, looking every bit like the little girl I used to know. Her hair is brushed back, the front pieces kept together by a yellow headband.
I try to recall whether I found it lying around her room, lost between her stuff, or not. My sisterlovedthat headband. The last time I saw her wearing it was before the accident. I don’t remember bringing it home with me, either.
Maybe it got lost.
“If you ever need anything, we’re here,” Principal Rivera adds, smiling pathetically.
“Well.” I close the box, my gaze lifting to meet his. “I do have something to ask.”
Rivera’s face shifts, wary yet composed.
He is an old man, though he fights it. There are lines of worry etched into his forehead, shadows of sleepless nights bruising his eyes, and the corners of his mouth are dry.
The gold crucifix around his neck gleams under the office lights, his fingers smoothing over it obsessively. Once, I believed he touched it out of pride. Now, I wonder if it’s guilt. If religion to him is not devotion but a compulsion, in the same way I consume my own anxiety.
“What is it, son?” he asks, leaning in, pressing his elbows against the dark, shiny wood.
I lean closer too, my voice steady, unyielding.
“I know what happens inside your house.”
Her silence might make others think otherwise, but Cassandra isn’t made out of steel. She has soft bones and softer muscles, warmth filtered through scar tissue.
Healing isn’t her superpower, and her resilience isn’t her greatest strength. It’s what she had to do to survive, and I won’t be the person to spin this around looking for some kind of validation that life never gives you more than you can take. Not when she is in pain, trying to make it through the day without thinking of every hurtful comment, every malicious glance thrown her way.
She needs someone who is willing to fight for her when she isn’t looking. And that person is going to be me.
