Page 62 of The Dating Charade

“Oh! Well, isn’t that convenient. There seems to be one here with your name on it too.”

Star limply took the present from her mother’s hands—a sturdy, wide cardboard box containing what Cassie had been excited about: a pair of sky-blue, Moxi suede ice skates. Premium stainless-steel blades combined with a vintage floral print, so old-fashioned it was the latest trend.

To say Star would be thrilled was an understatement.

But just as she tugged off one loop of the yellow bow, she stopped. Exhaled, as if the work of unwrapping it was too much. Then dropped it. The box bounced to the ground, knocking against the back of the couch. She resumed looking out the window.

Cassie felt the heat on her neck as her voice rose. “Star, go ahead and open the present, please.”

Star didn’t move.

Comfortable silence suddenly became very uncomfortable, as the eyes of her neighbors and family began looking intently into the beige carpet or quickly engaged in conversation. “What do you think about that slicer,” she heard one of the women ask another. “I bet you’ll get lots of use out of it. Is it just for apples, you think?”

The hum of small talk began to fill the living room. Men with even less to say on topics of UT scarves and makeup kits left the room completely, opting for the eggnog station instead.

Deidre stopped doodling the pony on her pad. Her large, round eyes watched Star and Cassie warily.

Cassie stood. She dodged the sea of crumpled wrapping paper littering the floor.

“Excuse me.”

Mr. Patterson, the only oblivious one in the room, looked up from his new pocketknife and let her squeeze through to the backside of the couch.

Cassie turned her back to the rest of the guests. She spoke so quietly even Mr. Patterson and his wife, sitting inches away, would have to arch their backs to hear. “I know that you’re angry right now.” She wanted to add, And for the first five hours, through my first two apologies, you had every right to be, but held her tongue.

“But, come on,” Cassie continued. “My mother wrapped that present especially for you. Why don’t you just open it, thank her, and let everyone here have a nice time?”

“Or what? I’ll ruin the party because I don’t open a totally adorable pair of boots that’s, like, a must-have of the season?” Her over-the-top, preppy voice dropped as she crossed her arms tightly around her, speaking loudly—too loudly—out the window. “I don’t want anything from you. Or your mother.”

The room froze.

The heat that had been sitting in Cassie’s neck rose to her cheeks as she saw her mom stock still in the center of the room, a statue holding a tray of her famous crab dip.

“Let’s go,” Cassie said under her breath.

Star shook her head. “No.”

Anxiety was starting to turn into the inability to think clearly. What could she do? At the Haven, the girls worked off their misbehaviors by cleaning the cobwebs off the windows, scrubbing down toilets, mopping scuffed-up floors. If the punishment required more severity, there was suspension. More than that, and the girls were expelled.

But here, what could she say? You’ll obey me, missy, or else you’re going to be grounded for two weeks? Scrubbing the bathroom floor of the house you’ve only lived in a matter of weeks? Suspended? Expelled?

There was a fire in Star’s eyes that just dared her to try, to say those unspeakable words.

Cassie knew she had failed Star on Sunday; the realization had hit her the same moment Star’s shoulder had, with equal force. It wasn’t about being the new girl in the crowd or the trivial fashion differences between Chucks and boots, sweaters and scarves. Star, of all people, had never been a fearful one or one to bow to the standards of another. She was a natural-born leader. Tough. So tough, Cassie never questioned her. Even when she managed to keep herself and her sisters alive for weeks alone. When every day she showed up at the Haven, shoveling food into her mouth, stockpiling pretzels in her backpack, claiming for days she’d forgotten money to eat lunch and asking Cassie to let her into the storage closet. Even through each of those brave-faced lies that Cassie now knew were part of Star’s only concrete plan to preserve their family.

Cassie had messed up. She didn’t anticipate how Star would really feel about going to Cassie’s church; she didn’t know because she had never asked. And without even realizing it, she had let the kids go through the motions of the first service, never imagining how they must’ve felt as one by one parents plucked up their children until they were the only ones left. The Sunday school teachers checking the clock for the fifteenth time and leaning their heads out into the hall, stretching their necks to see above the departing parents with kids in tow. Saying things in a sing-song voice like, “Nooo. I don’t see her yet. But I’m sure she’ll be here any moment.”

And the girls couldn’t even sleep in their own beds. How had Cassie not thought twice about insisting they get to stay together in their classes? Heaven knew Deidre and Kennedy had clung to Star and then each other, trying.

But they’d trusted her. In the end, they let Cassie convince them it was only an hour, only sixty minutes and then she’d be right back to pick them up. The time would fly by with the fun.

So they’d waited, alone, the obvious strangers, sticking out like black swans in a white flock one thousand strong. Hitherto, Cassie had not realized just how homogeneous First Community was; it wasn’t something you had to think about when you were the one fitting in. She’d let Jett’s handsome offer of cheap coffee, and then Rachel’s call, and then her own pathetic crying blind her from remembering she was about to hit the kids’ hot spot: abandonment.

And for over an hour, they had sat there, in a new place, wondering where she had gone.

How could Cassie try to discipline the girl whose wound she had just thrown salt on? Star, the one who’d never needed to clean so much as a light switch as reprimand at the Haven?

This was hard.