“It’s not a stray,” Violet called back. She motioned for Casey to bring Barney to her. “It’s my grandmother’s dog.”
Barney, confused as to who had grabbed him, charged toward Violet, and Casey, not ready for the sudden movement, jerked forward. A panicked look crossed her face just before she fell down onto the asphalt. Violet raced over, grabbing Barney’s collar as she looked down at Casey crumpled face-first on the asphalt. Her shoulders were quaking, and Violet feared she was injured and crying. She tightened her grip on Barney and glanced back at her house, wondering if her grandmother had noticed what was going on outside.
“Are you OK?” she asked Casey, her eyes still on the house as she waited for Casey to stop crying. But then she realized Casey wasn’t snuffling but snickering. “Casey?” she asked. Barney pulled against her grip, and she knew she needed to either let him go or take him inside. The dumb dog still hadn’t peed.
Casey used her hands to lift herself up, twisting around so that she could meet Violet’s gaze. “I’m fine,” she said, laughing. “I can’t believe I just busted my ass like that!”
Violet noticed a scrape on Casey’s chin. “You’re bleeding,” she said. With her free hand, she pointed to the scrape.
Casey looked alarmed and swiped at her chin, then winced with pain. Then she laughed again, though Violet didn’t think any of this was funny. Casey still had that off-center look in her eyes, and suddenly it made sense.
“Casey,” she asked. “Are you . . . drunk?”
Casey laughed harder at this and wagged her finger in the air at Violet. “Nothing gets by you, Violet Ramsey. I always said you were a sharp one.”
“But . . . how?” She almost asked why, but stopped herself.
Casey moved closer to her, still grinning. “Beer,” she stage-whispered, then laughed again.
Violet looked up the street in the direction of the Strickland house. But Casey had come from the opposite direction. “How’d you end up here?” Violet asked her. Barney grew disinterested with the conversation and flopped down.
“I was trying to walk it off,” Casey said. “Before I went home,” she added. “I got dropped off, and somehow I’m gonna have to go back for my car.” She rolled her eyes. “That’ll be fun to explain to Bess.” She shook her head. “First I gotta sober up.” Violet watched as an idea bloomed on Casey’s lovely face, her eyes lighting up against the fog of inebriation. “Maybe you could get me some coffee?” she asked, and pointed at Violet’s house. “You know, before I have to go home?”
Casey’s phone sounded, and she looked momentarily confused about what the sound was.
“Your phone,” Violet said, growing bored with this whole scene.
Casey looked down at her phone, and her face went from amused to panicked. “It’s my mom again. She wants to know where I am.” She gave Violet a desperate look. “Can I tell her I’m here hanging out with you?”
Since this was the truth, Violet said she didn’t see why not. The phone had stopped ringing, but Casey fished it out of her pocket, fumbled around with it for a few seconds, then presented it to Violet. “Will you please text her? You know, pretend you’re me? I’m all thumbs.”
Not knowing what else to do, Violet accepted the phone. Barney lifted his head and watched the transaction.
“Say I came to check on you,” Casey said, then nodded to herself, pleased with her lie.
Violet squinted at the phone screen, saw several missed texts from Bess, most of which said some form of Where are you? and used the word disrespectful. She wrote a text that she hoped would get Casey out of trouble. She pressed “Send” and handed back the phone.
Casey waved it in the air like a trophy. “You’re the best!” she said, too exuberantly.
“Let’s go see if we can get you some coffee.” Violet started walking toward the house, hoping her grandmother wasn’t still in the kitchen. She didn’t want to explain this situation to her. But when they got inside, the kitchen was empty. Violet could smell the lingering aroma of the country-style steak her grandmother had made, now mixed with the scent of dish soap. Barney trotted off in search of Polly, and Violet set about popping a pod into the Keurig.
Casey slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. “I fucked up,” she said, too loudly.
Violet spun around and shushed her. “My grandmother is here,” she said, her teeth clenched and her eyes wide. The last thing she needed was for Polly to think that Violet hung out with drunks. Ever since she and Nicole had stopped being best friends, Violet didn’t hang out with anyone. And with the news about her mother circulating through the school, it wasn’t likely she was going to be finding a new bestie anytime soon. Other than whispers and pointing and the occasional slur against her mother, no one acknowledged her at all.
“Sorry,” Casey said, and looked rueful.
Violet set the coffee down in front of her. She didn’t offer cream and sugar, as she’d seen people in movies give drunks black coffee. Casey obediently took a sip. From the back of the house, Violet heard her grandmother call her name. She and Casey gave each other panicked looks.
“Yes?” Violet responded, making her voice sound level and measured.
“Did Barney go?”
“No,” Violet called back. “It seemed like he just wanted to explore the yard.”
“OK,” came the reply, then a sigh. “I’ll take him out again in a little bit.”
Violet wanted to avoid Polly coming in and striking up a conversation that would surely give Casey away or at the very least raise questions. She picked up the coffee and whispered, “Let’s go up to my room.” Casey stood up and followed the coffee. “I’m going to go study,” Violet hollered out in the direction of the downstairs guest room. “Got a big test tomorrow!”
“OK!” her grandmother called back.
“I think the last time I was here I was maybe ten?” Casey said as they climbed the stairs. Her tongue seemed to trip over her s’s.
“Mm-hmm,” Violet responded, concentrating on keeping the coffee from sloshing over the rim of the mug. They made it up the stairs and safely into Violet’s room. She directed Casey to have a seat on her bed, then handed over the coffee and shut her bedroom door. She took a seat at her desk and looked longingly at her psychology book. She hadn’t lied to Polly. She really did need to study. She hoped she could get Casey out of there in short order and get cracking, as her mom liked to say.
Casey’s phone rang again, and this time she didn’t seem surprised. She dug into her pocket and pulled it out. She examined the screen, shrugged, and put it back into her pocket. “I’m not talking to him right now,” she said. She looked at Violet as if it was her turn to talk.
“Talking to who?” Violet asked, more out of obligation than real interest. Violet assumed it was some suitor from her college, pining away because Casey wasn’t there.
“Eli.” Casey gave her a sly grin. “That’s who I was with today.”
This was news, and Violet could tell that Casey knew it would be. Their breakup at the end of last year had spurred almost as much gossip as Micah’s party. Eli and Casey were the couple most likely to last forever. No one—least of all Eli—had seen the breakup coming. People had their theories as to why it had happened. Some said Eli had cheated on Casey. Some said Casey just had never loved Eli, that it had all been an act and with the end of high school came the end of the act. Some speculated that one or the other or both were addicted to drugs. Some said that Casey was gay and was going to come out in college. Violet herself had wondered what had made Casey do it. But of course she’d never imagined she’d be in a position to find out.