Cassie said that she wasn’t sure she understood, and her grandmother said, “Of all the talents God has given you, make sure the one you use the most is kindness.”
Cassie promised her she would try. And Cassie wished she had tried harder with Peter Rizzo. Sometimes she wished the whole world was like one of her favorite TV shows, Speechless, in which the best character, and the funniest, was a boy suffering from cerebral palsy. Except, Cassie knew, that wasn’t even the best way to describe it. The character, JJ, didn’t act as if he were suffering at all. He just got on with things, often using humor like it was his greatest talent, being friends with whom he wanted, mostly with a friendly groundskeeper at his school.
Maybe that’s who I should try to be like with Sarah, Cassie thought. A friendly groundskeeper.
It just wasn’t working out that way so far. Maybe tonight could be a way to start over.
“Don’t force it,” her mom had said at dinner. “Just let it happen.”
“Not forcing things, Mom?” Cassie had said. “Not exactly my strong suit.”
“Well, honey, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
Mrs. Milligan’s first name was Kari. “With a K,” she said. “Rhymes with ‘car.’ ” Mr. Milligan’s first name was Jim. They all went and sat in the living room.
Let it happen, Cassie reminded herself.
Sarah sat between her parents on the couch. She didn’t have her head down tonight, maybe because she had her parents with her. Her eyes, Cassie saw, kept moving from Cassie to Cassie’s parents, almost as if she were waiting to see which one of them would make the first move.
But it was Sarah’s mom who spoke first.
“Sarah would like to apologize to you, Cassie, for what happened yesterday,” she said.
“She doesn’t have to, really,” Cassie said.
“Yes, Cassie, she does.” Her manner was friendly and firm at the same time. It was as if she were letting Cassie know who was in charge, at least for the moment.
“Sorry,” Sarah said.
“Sorry for what?” Mrs. Milligan said.
Cassie still heard the same tone from her, friendly but firm.
“I’m sorry for shoving you,” Sarah said.
Now she put her head down.
Cassie was standing in front of the fireplace. There was a lot she wanted to say. But she knew this wasn’t about her right now. So all she said was, “I accept your apology, Sarah. I don’t want us to just be teammates. I want us to be friends.”
Sarah didn’t respond, just clasped her hands in her lap and kept staring at the floor.
“Okay,” Sarah said.
Then everybody was silent for what seemed like an awkwardly long time, until Cassie couldn’t take it anymore and said, “Sarah?”
Sarah looked up.
“Would you like to see my room?” Cassie said.
For a second Cassie thought she saw fear in Sarah’s eyes, or maybe uncertainty, as if she hadn’t signed up for anything other than the apology, maybe thinking that as soon as she had apologized that she and her parents could leave.
“Why don’t you?” Sarah’s dad said. “While the grown-ups get to know one another a little better, you and Cassie can do the same.”
Sarah turned to look at her dad, then turned back to her mom, as if one of them would change their mind. But they both just smiled at her until Sarah said, “Okay, I guess.”
“Follow me,” Cassie said.
“Okay, I guess.”
She didn’t sound okay, but she followed Cassie out of the living room.
At least, Cassie thought, I cleaned my room today, so the mess won’t make her even more afraid. But once they were in there, Sarah just stood next to the door, as if so she could make a fast getaway if she needed to.
“Why don’t you just grab the chair next to my desk,” Cassie said.
Sarah hesitated slightly, walked quickly to the chair, sat down, clasped her hands back together in her lap.
Cassie hopped onto the bed and sat facing Sarah, cross-legged.
“My room’s not usually nearly this neat,” Cassie said, “not gonna lie.”
There was no response.
“I’m usually kind of a slob,” Cassie said. “How about you?”
Sarah didn’t respond to that, either, and Cassie was starting to wonder how many more inane comments she was going to have to make, when Sarah blurted out, “You don’t have to be my friend!”
Cassie was the one startled by a loud noise.
“I know I don’t,” she said, keeping her own voice low. “I don’t think I have to. I want to.”
Sarah was staring down again, clenching and unclenching her hands now.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said.
“But I’d like to.”
Now Sarah picked up her head, her eyes intensely focused on Cassie, almost fiercely.
“Why?” she said.
The question stopped her, and not just because she had no answer for Sarah. It was because Cassie had never asked that question of herself. Cassie realized in that moment that she had never spent much time, or any time, looking at things from Sarah’s point of view, or trying to understand why Sarah might be suspicious of someone she hardly knew suddenly trying to act like her guardian angel.
As serious as Sarah was, Cassie couldn’t keep herself from smiling.
“You got me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t explain why.”
For the first time, Sarah smiled back at her.
• • •
It wasn’t like an episode of Speechless, or any other television show that Cassie watched. They didn’t work everything out in the next half hour. They weren’t friends by the time Sarah’s parents called her from downstairs and told her it was time to go.
The conversation between them didn’t get a whole lot easier, but Cassie was fine with that. She’d stopped thinking that any of this was going to be easy. Her parents always told her that the things that made you work the most meant the most.
They talked about basketball, because Sarah had played basketball before she’d played softball. Sarah asked Cassie if she played basketball. Cassie said she did.
“I even played on a boys’ team last season,” Cassie told her.
Sarah’s eyes got big. “They
