you feel.â
We communicated on some higher level. We talked without words about our mother. But as he drifted off, my panic renewed.
âWes?â I shook him slightly. âIâm still scared.â
His toffee eyes fluttered open. âHow can you be scared? Youâre the guardian angel. You take care of everyone. Especially me.â He squeezed my hand. âDonât be scared. Iâm here. I promise Iâll always be here and one day Iâll take care of you like you take care of me. I love you, Cassie.â
I was able to close my eyes without being fear-stricken. His gratitude, his promise, were all I needed to feel safe.
When we woke up midafternoon, a miraculous thing had happened: our mother was out of bed. She cheerfully cleaned up the party mess, chiding, âYou kids need to learn to pick up after yourselves.â She offered to make us breakfast and called the old folksâ home where she volunteers when she has it together.
Acid, I decided, equaled good things. It was fun plus it made my brother tell me that he loved me and it made my mom better. Like maybe Iâd taken her craziness and channeled it into my trip somehow. I could do that. I could do that forever.
Of course it was just a coincidence. A month later Mom had another episode.
They got worse and worse every time. But at least now I had a way to escape into my own head when Mom retreated into hers and Dad and Wes disappeared. I tripped a lot, but usually no one noticed. I guess Iâm that good at covering up insanity. Itâs like I was born to do it. Or I was born to be crazy. Sometimes I lie in bed with Mom for hours. We both stare at the ceiling and I wonder if weâre seeing the same thing. Every once in a while I ask her, but she never answers.
At least she never lies to me the way Wes did. I really thought that he meant it, that one day heâd step up and take care of me for a change. Instead, he left and everything really went wrong after that.
Right before Christmas, I tried to throw a party at my house like Wes used to. Dad was gone on business and Mom had been in bed for two days. Nobodyhad any acid, but I was okay with that. Quentin and I had started spending a lot of time together. Heâd been really sweet, consoling me after my brother left. When I was with Quentin, I didnât need acid or even pot or beer to have a good time. I just needed him.
The party was going well at first. Iâd taken the opportunity to spread the word that Wes would be home for the holidays, so everyone was in a good mood. Everyone but Jessica. Iâd noticed her stomping around scowling that night, but figured she wasnât getting enough attention from whichever boy sheâd been flirting with lately.
Apparently, she had a problem with who I was flirting with.
I was talking with Quentin and Adrian in a corner of the living room. Quentin reached over and took my hand. I didnât think too much of it because he did it a lot when we were alone. But I guess it was the first time heâd done it in public and as soon as it happened, Jessica swooped in, dragging me into the dining room.
Pink-faced, she ranted, âWhen Mary told me that she thought you liked him liked him, I told her, âCass would never do that to me. Weâve been friends for too long and thereâs a code.ââ
âWhoa,â I interrupted, putting my hand up between us. âWhat the hell are you babbling about?â
âQuentin! You canât go out with him. He was my first boyfriend!â
I brought my hand to my mouth, attempting to conceal my laughter. âYou canât be serious. You were in seventh grade. You went out for like five minutes.â
âWe went out for a month. He was the first guy to tell me I was beautiful. He said I looked like Winona Ryder.â Her eyes grew wistful and she tugged at her Winona Ryder haircut.
I laughed openly. Quentin and I had recently discussed
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