Page 5 of Waysider
Before he could volley back, Cass leaned forward and twisted the volume knob on the radio. Joan Jett’s voice blared through the small space. Cal reached for the knob and turned it right back down. Cass sighed and turned her face toward the window, her gaze flicking to the waxing moon high above. “Such a killjoy.”
Cal made a derisive sound. “This is nothing compared to what’s waiting for you at home.”
Buildings and signs rushed past, the latter flashing neon green at the sweep of their headlights. Each one so familiar, because Cass had seen these signs a thousand times, on this road, in this old station wagon. She pictured their parents, the people they were hurtling toward. Waiting for her. She could already predict the looks on their faces, because that was another thing she’d seen a thousand times—her dad’s thick eyebrows furrowed with concern, her mom’s lips tight with disappointment.
Cass’s shoulders hunched at the image. She stared down at the nails Cal had criticized, splaying her fingers against her knees. “It’s just academic probation. It’s not like I got expelled,” she mumbled.
“Jesus, Cass. Is that what you’re planning to say to them? Dad is literally working double shifts to pay for your tuition.” A muscle bunched in Cal’s jaw as he turned on the blinker. Its tinny sound cracked the stillness between them. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.
Yeah, well, we can’t all be perfect like you, Cass wanted to say. She swallowed the sharp words, and they hurt going down. Her brother had landed a football scholarship, of course, so the bags under their father’s eyes were purely on Cass. Her fault.
She hadn’t been able to hold down a job in high school—it was a miracle she’d even gotten into Wayne State, which was her safety school—so when it came time to pay that first tuition bill, or any of the subsequent ones, Cass didn’t have savings. After her parents told her they would take care of it, she’d made a promise to herself. Things would be different. She would be better. No more impulsive, reckless decisions or wild nights she barely remembered the next morning.
And for the past two years, she’d held true to that promise. Sort of. In all honesty, it was another small miracle she’d gotten this far. Deflating at the thought, Cass let out a breath.
“I know, okay? I know.” She looked out the window again, picking at what was left of her nail polish. Her reflection stared back from the glass with eyes that were dark and troubled. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to say. I had a nine-hour bus ride to think about it, and I still couldn’t come up with a reason.”
The vulnerability in her voice made Cal soften. He stared out the windshield, yellow streetlights moving over his face as he said, “I don’t get it, Cassie. It’s not like you don’t have what it takes. I’ve seen your test scores.”
“Those scores were mostly because of Teresa,” Cass pointed out.
A different sort of softness slipped over Cal’s face at the mention of her best friend. “How is T?” he asked. “Is she still on the premed track?”
His grip on the steering wheel was loose, his tone casual, but Cass didn’t buy it for a second. She shot him a look. “Still on the premed track, and still completely off limits. I’m sure you have your pick of mouth breathers at that fancy school you go to, so keep your focus on them, asshole.”
Her brother grinned. Cass rolled her eyes, which only made his grin widen.
Girls had always flocked around Cal Ryan. It wasn’t just because of his square jaw and tall, broad frame, or the fact that he was one of the youngest starting quarterbacks at NYU—he was also the best person Cass knew. He genuinely cared about others. He was polite to strangers, and he never made their parents worry. He followed every rule, scored in every game, passed every class and test. Growing up, Cass had always heard their classmates talk about how different the Ryan twins were. If she was chaos and night, Cal was calm and sunlight.
To be fair, Cass did get her own share of attention. But she didn’t have her brother’s charm or patience. She found most people tiresome. Teresa Alvarez was the reason she’d had any friends at all in high school.
Teresa, who blushed every time she heard Cal’s name. Teresa, who had attended every single one of his games in high school and doodled Mrs. Teresa Ryan in all her notebooks when she thought Cass wasn’t looking. Teresa, who still asked about Cal, just like he asked about her, even though she was going to school on the west coast and there was an entire country between them now.
But Cal had a reputation for breaking hearts. It was his one fatal flaw. The one part of him that Cass could use as a weapon during their arguments. Their real arguments—the ones that had, in the past, resulted in hard-edged shouting and dented walls and slamming doors. Cass was the only person in the world who could get to the unflappable Cal Ryan.
Before she could say something to make his face twitch again, a jolt went through the car—the wheels were rolling onto the bridge. Trees stretched on either side, dotted with lights and movement. The Hudson River was dark and still. But Cass’s eyes weren’t on the river. She frowned, leaning forward in her seat. “There’s someone up there, Cal. Do you see him?”
Her brother was frowning, too. “Yeah.”
There were other cars around, their headlights beaming through the night, but none of them seemed to notice the figure standing on the edge and peering down at the black water far, far below. Or maybe they just didn’t care.
“Should we stop? Make sure he’s okay, or something?” Cass asked.
Cal didn’t answer, but he pressed on the brakes, searching for a safe place to pull over. “Stay here.”
She snorted. “Bite me.”
Without giving Cal a chance to respond—or fully stop the car—Cass pulled the door handle and got out. She slammed it shut on the sound of her brother’s low oath.
While he hastily parked, Cass climbed over the guardrail without hesitation. She went up to the stranger standing on the bridge. It was a boy, she discovered once she drew close enough. He looked like he was in his early twenties, at most. Same as her and Cal. He was pale and husky, and sweat gleamed at his temple, in spite of the fact he was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans. The thin cotton flapped lightly against his round belly.
“Hey, man,” Cass called, trying to hide her caution. She looked at him with an air of nonchalance, hands shoved in her pockets. “Want to come down from there? You’re making me and my brother nervous.”
The boy didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem like he’d heard her. His focus stayed on the river and nothing in his posture changed.
Damn it, Cass thought. She knew she needed to get closer. Something about the boy’s silence was making her instincts go off like fire alarms, but she was used to ignoring that inner, piercing shriek. It wouldn’t even be the first time this month she’d stood on a dangerous ledge—that little stunt was what had landed her on academic probation back in Detroit.
Focus, Cass. Her jacket creaked as she hauled herself up. The wall was narrower than she expected, and for a blood-rushing, world-tilting moment, it felt like Cass had leaned too far and was on the verge of losing her balance. But she regained her footing, and she gripped the steel truss with sweaty hands.
