This time the response was silence. Diana looked concerned, Melanie doubtful, Sean openly scared. Doug and Chris were grinning their wild grins, and Deborah was nodding fiercely. Faye had her head cocked to one side, considering; Nick stood with his arms across his chest, stone-faced. But it was Laurel and Suzan who spoke up.
"But what about the dance?" Laurel said, and Suzan said, "Saturday night is the Halloween dance and I've already got my shoes."
"We always have a party on Halloween," Melanie explained to Cassie. "It's a big witch holiday. But this year Halloween falls on Saturday, and the school dance is the same night. Still," she said slowly, "I don't see why we couldn't do both. We could leave the dance around eleven thirty and still have plenty of time for a ceremony here."
"And I think it should be here," Diana said, "and not the graveyard. That's just too dangerous, and we might call up more than we bargained for."
Cassie thought of the shadowy form she and Adam had seen at the graveyard. A bit too belligerently, she asked, "What are we planning to do with whatever we can call up?"
"Talk to it," Adam said promptly. "In the old days people called up the spirits of the dead on Halloween and asked them questions. The spirits had to answer."
"It's the day when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest," Laurel clarified. "Dead people come back and visit their living relatives." She looked around the group. "I think we should do the ceremony."
There was agreement from the Circle, some of it hesitant, some enthusiastic. But everyone nodded.
"Right," Adam said. "Halloween night, then." Cassie thought it was unusual that he was taking over the job of coven leader this way, but then she looked at Diana. Diana looked as if she were holding some turmoil inside her tightly under control. For a moment Cassie felt sorry for her, but then her own misery and conflict welled up. She left the meeting quickly, without speaking to Diana.
In the weeks before Halloween, the real cold set in, although the leaves were still bronze and crimson. Cassie's bedroom smelled of camphor because her grandmother had brought old quilts out of storage to pile on her bed. The last of the herbs had been gathered, and the house was decorated with autumn flowers, marigolds and purple asters. Every day after school Cassie found her grandmother in the kitchen, cooking oceans of applesauce to jar, until the whole house smelled of hot apple pulp and cinnamon and spices.
Pumpkins mysteriously appeared on everybody's back porch-but only Cassie and the Hendersons knew where they came from.
Things didn't get better with Diana.
A guilty part inside Cassie knew why. She didn't want to fight with Diana-but it was so much easier not having to worry about her all the time. If she wasn't always talking to Diana, wasn't over at Diana's house every day, she didn't have to think about how hurt Diana would be if Diana ever found out the truth.
The shameful secrets inside Cassie didn't rub her so much when Diana was at a distance.
So when Diana tried to make up, Cassie was polite but a little cool. A little-detached. And when Diana asked why Cassie was still mad, Cassie said she wasn't still mad, and why couldn't Diana just leave things alone? After that, Diana did.
Cassie felt as if a thin, hard shell were growing all over her.
She thought about what Deborah had said about Nick. He gets in bad moods sometimes, but that doesn't mean you should give up. Of course, there was no way Cassie could go back and ask Nick again. At least, there was no way the old Cassie could have. There seemed to be a new Cassie now, a stronger, harder one-at least on the outside. And she had to do something, because every night she thought about Adam and ached, and she was afraid of what might happen if she went to that dance unattached.
The day before Halloween she walked up to Nick's garage again.
The skeleton-car looked just the same. Its entire engine was out, resting on a sort of bottomless table made of pipes. Nick was underneath the table.
Cassie knew better than to ask him what he was doing this time. She saw him see her feet, saw his gaze travel up. Then he scooted out from under the table and stood up.
His dark hair was spiky with sweat, and he wiped his forehead with the back of a greasy hand. He didn't say anything, just stood there looking at her.
Cassie didn't give herself time to think. Focusing all her attention on an oil stain on his T-shirt, she said rapidly, "Are you going to the Halloween dance tomorrow?"
There was a long, long silence. Cassie stared at the oil stain while Nick stared at her face. She could smell rubber and warm metal as well as grease and a faint hint of gasoline. She felt as if she were hanging suspended in air.
Then Nick said, "No."
Everything came crashing down. Cassie felt it, and for some reason she was suddenly able to look Nick in the face.
"Oh," she said flatly. Oh, stupid, stupid, she was thinking. The new Cassie was as dumb as the old one. She should never have come here.
"I don't see why you want to know in the first place," Nick said. Then he added, "It's got something to do with Conant, doesn't it?"
Cassie tensed. "Adam? What are you talking about? What could my asking you to a dance have to do with Adam?" she said, but she could feel the blood rise to her face.
Nick was nodding. "I thought so. You've really got it bad. And you don't want him to know, so you're looking for a substitute, right? Or are you trying to make him jealous?"
Cassie's face was burning now, but hotter was the flame of rage and humiliation inside her. She wouldn't cry in front of Nick, she 'wouldn't.
"Sorry for bothering you," she said, and, feeling stiff and sore, she turned around to walk away.