Page 1

Chapter 1

Cassie

"Cassie Monroe! You're gonna end up dying alone!"

Jennifer's voice exploded in my ear like a thunderclap, nearly making me jump out of my chair. She burst into the teachers' lounge with that look in her eyes—the one I dreaded most. She had another crazy idea brewing.

"Just look at you!" She jabbed her finger at my shoulder. "Slumped here like a dead fish. And you've got paint all over your shirt!" She gestured wildly. "Today's Open House is over, and we need to celebrate."

I glanced down at the stubborn blue streak on my sleeve—courtesy of little Anya when she knocked over the paint jar earlier. That kid was always so careful, so afraid of making mistakes. Just like I used to be. I picked at the dried paint with my fingernail, but it wouldn't budge.

"I'm really tired, Jennifer." I rubbed my temples where a dull throb was starting to build. "Plus, I still need to get home and mail my mom's medication—"

"Bullshit!" She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, making me wince. "Your mom's pills can wait until tomorrow. You don't have any excuses tonight. Blue Hour, Susan's buying, and we're leaving right now."

I tried to resist, but Jennifer was already packing up my bag. She moved like a tiny tornado, completely shutting down any chance for me to argue.

"I don't belong in places like that," I made one last-ditch effort.

"What do you mean, you don't belong?" She stopped mid-motion, her eyes getting that sharp look. "Cassie, you're twenty-four. Twenty-freaking-four! Your life can't just be work and taking care of your mom. You need to live like a woman, not like some nun."

Her words hit me like little needles. Yeah, I knew. I knew what other girls my age were doing—dating, falling in love, actually living their lives. And me? From kindergarten to home, home to kindergarten, day after day, year after year. When was the last time my heart actually raced? When was the last time I lost sleep over some guy?

I couldn't even remember.

"Fine." I let out a heavy sigh. "But I'm not staying long."

"Yes!" She practically shrieked with excitement, nearly bursting my eardrums.

The music at Blue Hour was so loud I could feel it vibrating in my chest. Colored lights swirled through the smoky air like some trippy kaleidoscope, making everything look surreal. I hugged the corner sofa, feeling like I'd accidentally landed on an alien planet.

My coworkers were already red-faced from drinking, their voices getting louder by the minute. Susan was going on abouther affair with some married doctor, Mary was bitching about her husband forgetting their anniversary again, and Jennifer was planning next month's Vegas trip.

And here I sat, feeling like a total outsider.

"Cassie! Drink up!" Susan shoved a pink concoction in front of me. "It's cranberry wine cooler—super mild!"

"No, I don't really handle alcohol well, and I have work tomorrow, you know. Okay, fine, just one." My refusal took a sharp turn under Jennifer's glare. I picked up the glass and took a cautious sip. The sweet fruity flavor masked the alcohol's bite, but I could still feel that unfamiliar liquid burning slightly as it slid down my throat.

Indulgence—a word so foreign to my world, yet somehow, with just that one sip, it seemed to pry open a tiny crack in my rational mind.

I stared at the pink liquid swirling in my glass while my coworkers' laughter and the music felt like they were coming through a sheet of glass. A burning anger that had been buried way too deep suddenly surged up from the depths of my heart, searing my throat.

When was the last time I drank? College graduation? Even earlier? I tried to remember, but all I could see was a blur of gray—countless identical days, identical routes, identical worries. When had my life become nothing but a schedule? Up at seven, out the door at seven-thirty, at the kindergarten by eight, home at five, evening phone calls with Mom back in the countryside, asleep by ten sharp. Round and round, no surprises, no excitement.

Jennifer was right—I was only twenty-four. Twenty-four! What were other girls my age doing? They were laughing their asses off in bars, getting their hearts racing from late-night texts from mysterious guys, and picking out sexy lingerie in dressing rooms for their dates. And me? I didn't even own decentunderwear because what was the point? Nobody was going to see it anyway.

I gripped the glass tighter, feeling the cool liquid through the glass against my palm. "Do something different"—the thought sparked like a lit match, crackling in the alcohol-charged air.

"Maybe," I heard myself say, my voice trembling slightly, "tonight I really need to do something different."

The words surprised even me. My coworkers all turned to look at me, shock flickering in their eyes. The usual me would never say something like that.

"Whoa!" Susan clapped her hands excitedly. "Cassie's finally seeing the light! Come on, cheers!"

One drink became two, then three. The room started getting fuzzy, my cheeks felt hot, and my heart was beating faster. Weirdly enough, that feeling of not fitting in didn't disappear—it got stronger. But this time, I didn't want to run away. I wanted to break through.

"Okay, game time." Susan suddenly slammed the table and stood up, nearly knocking over Mary. Her eyes were scary bright from the alcohol. "Truth or dare! Same old rules—nobody gets to chicken out."