Annalise Springster's a High School Dropout

Chapter 7

Cassie's POV

After sending Annie a text back, I go to check on my mother in her room. She had had another seizure at work and Karla had gone to get her and bring her home. My parents' bedroom door lies slightly ajar, so I peek in without bothering to open it more. Mom and Dad lay sprawled out on their brown and beige sheets and bed covers. At the foot of the bed, Cole and Sammy lay fast asleep, breathing softly.

Satisfied with the sight of all at ease, I go back to my room and close my door. The plan for tonight was to watch Annie paint, but now that's a bust. I glance over the sketches of the town on the wall, and my eyes fall on the sketch of the coffee shop.

Josh.

I scroll through our text messages on my phone, seeing all our empty promises of actually calling each other up. The last message was sent two days ago. I hastily send him a message.

Me: Want to actually talk tonight? Or are you too tied up with the girls at Dumau?

Right when I put my phone down, the screen lightens.

Josh <3: Srry, I'm tied and bound

I roll my eyes, but before I can respond, a notification appears that reads: "Josh is inviting you to share his space." I panic, and race to my mirror, nearly tripping on my rug on the way there. I wipe away my smudged makeup and fix my hair before hurtling downstairs to our computer room. Once inside, I close the door behind me. Before pressing the allow button, I scan the room and take note of its sparse furnishings.

Shouldn't be too hard not to run into those.

It catches me, does a full body scan, then scans the room, finding the optimal spatial orientation to match Josh's room.

The room dematerializes and the white of the walls pixilate, becoming small white squares outlined with black. Hues of blue appear in the pixelated spaces and not before long, the white of the walls give way to grey with spots where color is compacted. I recognize the color's from one of Josh's favorite band's poster.

I close my eyes to avoid visually overloading myself. Seeing a room dematerialize isn't something the common eye is meant to see—

The sound of something slamming against wood forces my eyes open. In front of me sits Josh at his desk with his back facing me. His black hair is pushed back, grazing the curves of his hunched shoulders. A pen sits on the ground a few feet from him.

"Josh?" I say, taking a couple of steps toward him.

His posture straightens, and he runs a hand through his hair before facing me.

"Cass! I feel like I haven't seen you in for—"

"Oh my gosh! You have facial hair! Since when were you able to grow facial hair?" I say, moving closer to get a good look.

He rubs the dark hair on his chin gingerly. "You like it huh?"

"Well, I didn't say that," I say coyly. "I'm just shocked! You leave hairless and now you're a werewolf."

"Correction. I'm a man, Cassie, a manly man." He smirks. The smirk is the same—still goofy.

"Yeah, ok."

"You've got a chair where you are? Please sit. Get comfy. I'll be right back." He gets up hastily and leaves the room.

Ok, chair, where are you?

I shuffle blindly around the room, groping at thin air and praying I don't trip. I try to remember that what I see is only a trick of light, but it still feels off walking through Josh's bed. After a few steps, my hand catches the cushioning of the chair. I bring it back to the spot where I was standing. Before sitting, I take in Josh's room and for the first time see how much of a mess it is. His clothes lay everywhere, papers are scattered on the floor and desk, and some of his posters are peeling off the walls. It was like he had his own personal hurricane. I inspect his desk and find sheets upon sheets of his work—scratches here—x's there, red markings everywhere. I lift my head to the upper shelf of the desk.