“So that’s why you just left me a note,” she said. “To explain all of that.”
“Well, no, not exactly. But anyway, you’ll see when you read it later.”
“Later? Dude, I am not waiting for later. I’m looking now.”
She unfolded the note, all in a scramble. But he stepped for ward before she could actually get to the words. “Oh god, pleasedon’t, not in front of me,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes in response.
“Because you want to run away before I see the mean things you’ve put.”
“I haven’t put anything mean. I just. I wrote it in a rush. It might not be all that. You know, it’s kind of like. I mean the thing is—” he tried, then cut himself off in the middle of this nonexplanation when he saw what she was doing. “And you’re just going right ahead. Okay great. Awesome. Fantastic.”
But what did he expect? She couldn’t afford to wait for him to waffle his way out of this. That would just make her a fool who constantly fell for his evil pranks. Plus she wouldn’t get any opportunity to yell at him about the probable horrid contents.
And she really wanted to yell at him about them. She wanted to yell so much that when she read the wordsDear Cassie, she felt her entire body tense up. As if he’d actually written,Hello You Ridiculously Naive Butthead. And she didn’t unwind as she read on. She didn’t relax. Even though the rest was even more astonishing than that first part.
I just wanted to somehow tell you without bothering you that I’m really sorry about the whole arm being inside-out thing. And the almost eating you thing. And the breaking into your house thing. And the making you think I slept with your grandmother thing. Damn, I apparently have a lot of things to apologize for. I haven’t even gotten to the high school thing, he had written. Though she went over it so fast she wasn’t sure she had read it right. It felt as if she couldn’t have, if it was that full of contrition.
Yet a second go told her the same thing.
And then there was more.
Well anyway, I know that I can’t make up for any of that, both because there’s so much of it but also just because it’s all really bad and scary and you’re probably traumatized. In fact I know you’re traumatized after seeing the way you hold yourself when you even so much as see me. So god knows where you’re at now, trauma-wise. But I promise I will not make it any worse anymore. I will stay away so you can find peace and heal and be happy, she read, word byexcruciating word. Heart pounding harder and harder with every single one she fully processed. Half of her wanting to laugh at the ridiculous way he’d put things, half of her wanting to cry over how much more true the ridiculousness made it feel.
And even more so when she read the sign-off:Yours sincerely, your ex-best friend, Seth Brubaker. Because it was pretty much the exact thing he used to write when they were kids. The ending he’d always given his notes before he passed them to her in class or slipped them underneath the front door or left them for her in secret places. Those strangely formal words, which felt so personal and so warm at the same time.
And still felt like that now.
She knew they did, because she was fucking tearing up. She had to blink a lot to stop it happening—and still only really managed because something else caught her eye. More words, after the sign-off. A postscript, just casually there like no big deal. Only itwasa big deal, it was a very big deal, it was so big a deal she briefly felt like she was choking on her own breath.
She had to reread the words about ten times before they sank in. Yet still didn’t fully know what to say about them once she had. Instead she looked up from the page, slowly. Eyes narrowed. Part of her sure this must be the gag. Most of her knowing it wasn’t.
All of her irritated beyond belief that he’d put it like this.
“Seth, did you just seriously end this really nice, otherwise mostly normal-seeming note with an absolutely bonkers thing likeoh shit p.s. I think you might be a super-powerful witch? Or am I just hallucinating that part?” she asked.
But he didn’t even seem to get what the problem was.
He just hit her with this hopeful, reaching sort of expression.
“You think the note is really nice?” he asked.
At which point, her heart started hammering for a different reason. A very supernatural, witch-based reason.
“Well, I did until I got tothispart.”
“But that part isn’t meant to be a mean joke.”
“Seth, I get that. But what I don’t get is you tacking it on the end like it’s not extremely vital information that’s making me want topass out. I mean, I spent last night convincing myself I’m not even half a witch, and you’re throwing this at me?”
“I didn’t mean to throw it. I just wasn’t sure how to fit it in with the other, more important stuff,” he said, and, oh dear god, he meant it. It was all over his face—that look that said he was puzzling through something, inwardly, instead of trying to convince her of something that wasn’t true.
He really thought being sorry was the big deal here. Everything else didn’t matter. Or at least, it didn’t matter to him. And that was so overwhelming she didn’t know how to deal with it.
But thankfully, she had a whole other overwhelming thing to focus on.
“You fit it in byleading with this, Seth. Youleadwith witch things. And then you explain why exactly you’re thinking something this nuts, so, you know. Maybe I don’t end up thinking your brain must be melting. Because I melted it. With the super witch powers you mistakenly think I have,” she pointed out. She even mimed some of the melting and the powers, for emphasis.
But all she got in response was: “Okay, so then maybe I’ll just write you another note.”
