About last night. But you really don’t need to make up stories just to make me feel better.”
“I didn’t make anything up. I really saw someone out on the street last night. She had a dog with her.”
“Just stop!” he shouted. Joey shook his head. “That girl, Ping … She thinks she knows what she’s talking about because we live next door to each other. She keeps telling everyone how much of a freak I am.”
“That’s not how she put it.”
“She thinks she’s helping, but she’s not.”
“Ping is nice.” It was a lame thing to say, Cassidy knew. She’d only just met her. Besides, this wasn’t about Ping.
“For the past year, all the adults have been telling me: There’s no such thing as ghosts. Especially not ghost dogs . It’s all in your head.” He stood up, crossed his arms, and slammed his back into the bathroom door. “Don’t say a word about Lucky to my mom, or she’ll sign you up to talk to a doctor about it too.” The door swung open behind him, and he slipped inside.
There was no way she was following him in there. Especially not after this conversation.
Cassidy thought of her notebook and the bad things it contained. Maybe later she’d tell Joey about it. Maybe she’d share her secret about the night she’d met her neighbor, Levi Stanton, so Joey would truly understand. Then, maybe he could make a notebook for himself.
“Hey,” a voice called from the other end of the hall. Cassidy turned to find Vic peering out from the door to the stairwell. His mouth was puckered tight with what might be annoyance or concern. “I fixed the still life, but we could really use your bag again. You two coming back to class?”
Cassidy’s entire body burned with embarrassment. Still, she shook her head. “I’m really sorry about that, really, but we just … can’t,” she said, loud enough for Joey to hear her through the door. “Not today.”
O F COURSE , Vic called Rose on her cell phone. She was there in moments. She barely glanced at Cassidy as she ushered Joey out of the boys’ room, apologizing to Vic several times before the three of them made it out the art center door.
“Well, that was disappointing,” she said to Joey. “You maybe want to explain yourself?”
“I just didn’t want to be there anymore.” Joey climbed into the front seat of the hatchback.
“Did you think about what Cassidy wanted?” Rose asked, her voice trembling as she sat behind the wheel. “You know, not everything is about you, young man .”
If Cassidy could have folded herself into an envelope, she’d have tucked herself deep inside her backpack. Instead, she slunk down in the seat, trying to make herself invisible. What if Joey revealed that Cassidy had ruined the still life? Or what if he changed his mind and mentioned what she’d said about Lucky, about what she’d seen last night? Rose would be even more furious. This time with her. “I think you owe her an apology.”
“It’s okay, Rose. I don’t mind.”
“Nonsense. Joey?”
Joey buckled his safety belt with a fury that could have killed a small animal. “ Sorry ,” he said loudly as if to no one. To Cassidy’s relief, that was all he said.
Traveling back through the center of Whitechapel, they passed the town hall and the bridges under which the waters merged. Rose pulled into the public parking lot next to the small general store with blue-striped awnings and a sign painted directly onto the window — MORIARTY’S . “I’ll pick up some sandwiches for lunch,” said Rose. “I’ve got nothing at home.”
As Cassidy followed Rose and Joey into the store, she was met with a cool blast of salty air — pickle brine and potato salad. She’d always loved coming here, though now, it was fraught with Joey’s anger. The floors were wide planks and the ceiling was elaborate pressed-tin. Several shelves near the front windows were filled with glass jars containing colorful bulk candy: jawbreakers and taffy and
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