Chapter 1

“Hey, Cass! Dad wants to know if you’re ready for dinner?”


Cassie looked up from the box she’d been searching—full of junk, like everything else in the attic—and saw an unruly mop of dark hair sticking out of the trap door. Her younger brother Jake, always so full of energy, was practically bouncing on the ladder.


Jake practically ran down the steps in his haste. “She’s coming, Dad!” Cassie heard him call. “Order the pizza!”


Moving more slowly than her younger brother, Cassie took the time to raise the ladder and close the trap door before she followed Jake down the stairs. She heard Jake burst into the kitchen, but she instead turned towards her late grandfather’s study. The room was still a mess, with less than a third of its contents boxed up. Cassie sighed.


“I told you to let me handle this,” she said to her mother, though she didn’t seem to hear. Winnifred was sitting behind the large oak desk, toying with a fist-sized orb made of some dark red stone. Cassie rolled her eyes and planted her fists on the desktop. “Mom. Mom!”


The older woman started as though taken by surprise, her eyes slowly focusing on her daughter. “Wh…what did you say?”


Cassie sighed again. “I said you should have let me handle Grandpa’s office.” She gestured around the room. “I got most of the attic done, while you’ve barely scratched the surface in here.”


Winnifred shook her head. “I need to do this, Cassie. My dad, he…” She started blinking furiously as her eyes grew moist. Cassie held up a staying hand.


“It’s okay, Mom. I know.”


“There’s a lot of memories in this room,” she said softly, more to herself.


Smiling, Cassie sat down on the edge of the desk—her usual spot in the office. “Tell me about them,” she said. “Like that.” She pointed to the stone next to her mother’s hand. “What’s the real story behind that thing?”


“What? Your grandfather never told you?”


“He told me something about an expedition to Marrakesh,” Cassie smiled. “I believed him when I was a kid, but the older I got, the sketchier it seemed.”


“You’d be surprised,” Winnifred said. “Dad went everywhere taking photographs, though not as much after Mom died.” She suddenly squeezed her eyes shut. It was several long moments before she continued, and then her voice sounded strained.


“But you know your grandfather. Always teasing.” Winnifred smiled wistfully. “You know, I saw something like this at a tourist trap in Phoenix when your father and I went there a few years ago. Dad’s smile looked so…guilty, but he still insisted on the Marrakesh story.”


“He was a character,” Cassie said.


“Yes, he was,” Winnifred said, chuckling softly. Cassie couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time she’d heard her mother laugh since before the hospital. “I am going to miss him.”


“Me, too,” Cassie agreed.


Winnifred gave her daughter a watery smile. “Thank you, Cassie,” she said.


“For what?”


“For reminding me that other people loved my dad as much as I did.” With a sigh, she pushed herself out of the desk chair and straightened. “So, why don’t you see what you can do in here, and I’ll go pick up dinner with Jake?”


Cassie nodded encouragingly. “I think that’s a good idea, Mom. You could use some fresh air.”


Winnifred said nothing, giving her daughter a pat on the cheek as she came out from behind the desk and walked out the door. Cassie watched her go, then crossed behind the desk to take her place in the now vacant chair.


The worn leather felt warm to the touch and the seat creaked softly as she sat down, but she barely noticed any of it. She was lost in a wave of memory as she sank back into the chair, breathing deep the scents of musk cologne and old paper—her grandfather’s smell. It almost made her feel like a little girl again, sitting at his feet and coloring while he’d pored over his work.


“Find anything interesting?” a deep, rumbling voice said. Cassie jumped, her eyes opening to find the imposing figure of her father Jonathan standing on the other side of the desk. He was a large man—solid and well-built, though with a paunch. His customary grin, baring just a hint of his teeth, was plastered across his face.


“Geez, Dad. You scared me!”


“Sorry, kid,” he said, pulling a chair over from the edge of the room. He sat down gingerly, though it still creaked ominously beneath his bulk. Once he was settled, he gave her an encouraging smile. “So…find anything interesting?” he asked again.


“Not really,” Cassie said. “Attic was a bust. Is Mom gone yet?”


“A few minutes ago. I’m glad she went. She needs to get out of here, even if only for a little while.”


“Yeah,” Cassie nodded. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now.”


“It can’t be easy,” John agreed. “I remember what it was like when my dad died, though we weren’t nearly as close as your grandpa and your mom are…I mean, were.” His smile faltered, though he managed to get it back in place quickly enough.


“Anyway, I think it’s time we had a talk.”


Cassie narrowed her eyes. “About what?” she asked suspiciously.


“College.”


Her cheeks grew hot. “Uh…what about it?”


“Are you serious right now?” he asked. “You didn’t think I’d find out?”


She gave him a guilty smile. “I guess I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t?” Her father dropped his smile. “Sorry,” she said meekly.


“Why are you dropping out?” he asked.


“I don’t know. I guess…” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think it’s for me anymore.”


John growled dangerously under his breath. “Cassandra West, that is the absolute wrong answer. You are one year away from graduation, and you’re pulling the plug? All because you don’t think it’s for you anymore?”


“Well, I also applied for a job,” she said. “Good pay, and they didn’t care about a degree.”


“And did you get it?”


“Uh…no.”


“You at least had an interview before you dropped out, right?”


“Well…”


John sighed. “Look, Cass, I know the last few years have been hard. Your boyfriend.”


“I dumped him,” she said.


“Allison,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken.


“That wasn’t my fault.”


“And how many times have you switched your major?”


She shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad. I just want to find the right thing for me.”


“That’s the problem, Cass. You keep looking for the ‘right thing’, but I’m worried you keep moving further and further from what you want.”


Cassie scowled. “I’ll know what I want when I find it, Dad!” she said angrily. “I promise."


For a moment—just a moment—Cassie felt something flash warm under her fingers. Looking down, she realized her fingers were resting on the stone orb her grandfather had kept on his desk, the one he’d claimed had come from Marrakesh. It was cool to the touch. Whatever she’d felt, it must have been her imagination.


“You okay, Cass?” her dad asked, looking concerned.


“I’m fine,” she told him. “I just…I think I need to go lie down for a while.” She got out of her grandfather’s chair and started walking towards the door.


“Wait. What about dinner?”


“I’m not hungry.”


* * * * *


Cassie ran, her arms pumping, her legs throbbing. Her lungs burned within her chest as she struggled to suck in a breath. She didn’t understand where she was or what she was doing. The last thing she’d remembered had been lying down in the spare bedroom, and…


“Run, Cassie!” a woman screamed. “Don’t give up now! You’re in the lead!”


Cassie looked over and saw an older woman that she recognized, though she didn’t remember who it was. The woman kept waving her hand, encouraging Cassie to run. Gritting her teeth, Cassie focused on a point ahead of her and picked up the pace.


The world seemed to fill in around her as she moved. Beneath her feet, Cassie felt the textured surface of a track. There was grass to one side of her, while on the other was rising set of bleachers filled with cheering people. Above her was blue sky, with white clouds scudding across it like ships.


The stadium, she realized, finally recognizing her surroundings.


Cassie spared a glance downward and saw something familiar—a stylized top and loose shorts. It was a uniform; the same one she’d worn as a member of her high school track team.


Of course, I’m wearing my track uniform, she thought incredulously. I’m at a track meet! What else would I be wearing?


It wasn’t just a track meet; it was the first of her senior year. Cassie had been ambivalent towards participating this year, but had ultimately decided to give it a try. And if she really was in the lead…


Keep running, Cassie! she thought to herself, echoing the woman she recognized but did not know. Don’t give up now!


There was no one ahead of her on the track. A brief twist of her neck showed her several people coming up quickly on her left. They wanted to win, and we’re going all out to make sure they did. But Cassie’s spirit was up, and she wasn’t going to let them beat her.


Keep running! Don’t give up now!


She followed the curve of the track, maintaining her lead over the other competitors. Her heart thundered in her ears, eclipsing the cheers from the crowd. Cassie let a smile slip onto her lips. One more turn, and then the homestretch. She could practically taste victory.


Cassie took one step, then another, then another. It felt off the moment she put her foot down, and the world seemed to slow as it slid out from underneath her. She went sprawling, throwing out her hands to cushion the fall she knew was coming, but it wasn’t enough to stop her momentum.


She hit the ground with a thud, the impact driving all the air from her as she rolled along the ground. Somewhere in the midst of her motion, she felt more than heard a crack in her wrist, followed by another in her lower leg. When she finally came to a stop, eyes to the sky, they were both starting to throb. Pain was on the way, horrific and intense in a way she’d never known before.


Mercifully, the blackness took her first.


* * * * *


Cassie jolted awake, her chest heaving as though she actually had been running. She could feel a dull ache in her wrist and ankle, but both pains were already fading to nothing. It was just a dream, she told herself. Only a dream. But even as she tried to convince herself, she knew there was more to it than that. It had been real once, or at least, a version of it had been real.


Closing her eyes, Cassie could picture it in her mind. The day had been warm, the last vestiges of summer clinging into autumn. It had been the first track meet of her senior year, though she’d been less excited about it than previous season. Her enthusiasm had started to wane after she turned 18, falling to a level where she’d almost decided to quit In fact, if not for her injury, she probably…


Wait! What injury?


Cassie snapped her eyes open, thoughts whirling as she tried sorting through the jumble of memories. She distinctly remembered scraping a win in that meet, despite her growing dissatisfaction with running. She’d even gone on to make state that year, if just barely. It had been the best season of her high school career, though that wasn’t really saying much compared to her previous years.


But there was another part of her that remember going down hard, breaking both her wrist and ankle. She’d sported double casts for months as her body had been slow to heal. While frustrated at first due to her restricted mobility, she’d soon grown used to her limitations. Even enjoying them. Plus, it had been a convenient way to get out of track without disappointing anyone.


Cassie shook her head, but to no avail. Nothing changed. The two sets of memories existed side-by-side in her brain, and she was certain each of them was real. But that was impossible—only one of them could have happened.


Right?


A sudden knock on the door startled Cassie from her reverie. She reflexively jerked the covers up to her chin. “Uh, yeah?” she called.


“Time to get moving, Cass,” her father said, his voice a deep rumble that almost seemed to vibrate the wood. “I’m making breakfast, and then we’ve got to get over to your grandfather’s house. Okay?”


She groaned softly. “Alright, alright. I’m getting up.” Seemingly satisfied with the response, Cassie heard her father’s heavy footsteps leading away from her bedroom. Yawning, she pushed back the covers and started maneuvering herself into a sitting position. It was difficult, her movements awkward and uncoordinated.


Grunting with the effort, Cassie pushed herself to her feet, muscles protesting the effort. Oh, man, she thought. Yesterday must have really taken it out of me. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.


Yawning again, she picked her way towards her closet, carefully threading her way through the clothes scattered across her floor. Her hand was just reaching for the knob when she paused.


How did I get home?


Cassie stood like a statue, trying to remember anything from the previous day that would explain why she was in her own bedroom. She remembered the attic, the conversation with her dad, then going to lie down in one of the spare rooms. After that…


I…I guess I was just really tired and don’t remember. She nodded to herself. Yeah, that must be it.


Though not entirely satisfactory, it was enough in the moment. She pulled her closet open and began looking for something to wear. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see herself reflected in the mirror hung on the inside of closet door. Something about it bothered her. She started to turn her head to check, but something—an unaccountable fear—held her back.


Don’t be ridiculous, Cassie, she scolded herself. What’s gotten into you?


With an effort, Cassie broke through her paralysis and turned her head. What she saw was herself, the same reflection she always saw. She started to laugh, wondering why she’d been so worried in the first place.


That’s when she saw it: the bulge at her midsection, distending what should have been a flat surface. It was stressing the t-shirt she’d worn to bed, pushing it up slightly to reveal a sliver of pale flesh overhanging the strained waistband of her sleeping shorts. Mouth dropping open, Cassie poked it with a finger. It was soft and malleable, the first join of her finger easily disappearing.



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