Finding Cassie Crazy Read online

  You want to take a guess how I spent Friday night? Listening to Mr T practise his speech. He was also teaching us how to make coq au vin without using any wine. It all makes you think: would I have had more fun seeing a movie with you? Difficult to say.

  Got to go

  Lydia

  Hey Lyd

  Very easy to say, actually.

  But you want to know about Christina. For starters, I seriously doubt she knows anything about Paul Wilson’s evil side. She’s a buddy of mine and her best friend happens to be an Ashbury girl (met in last year’s Pen Pal Project), so she can’t be anti-Ashbury.

  A lot of people are though.

  Christina is gorgeous, but also very cool. Wilson stole her from her long-term boyfriend, Derek Turner, which was a scandal around these parts. Everybody saw it happening, except Turner, and we were all waiting to see what he’d do when he realised he’d lost her.

  He broke his hand by punching a brick wall is what he did.

  And he’s still trying techniques for getting her back, but I wouldn’t call them likely to succeed. Example: the last couple of weeks he’s been wearing nothing but a singlet, shorts and thongs, and you’ll have noticed that it’s winter. He told Christina he’d be happy to get frostbite if she would just realise how much he still loves her.

  But no way Wilson’s letting her go. I would say she’s his greatest possession.

  Any-old-how, Lydia-the-beautiful-Lady, would you look at that, I’ve just received a new top-secret spy-agency assignment. And I need to pass it on to you, as you’re one of the participants. What a surprise, eh? The assignment is called Operation Movie, it takes place this Friday night and is as follows:

  • Agent Lydia must go to the Castle Hill movies at 7 pm.

  • She must buy herself a ticket to the movie of her choice.

  • Agent AKA will stand at the candy bar but will pretend he doesn’t know Lydia.

  • Agent AKA will ask for a large popcorn, at which moment Lydia will stand beside Agent AKA and secretly let him see the ticket she bought.

  • Both agents will go into the movie and sit next to each other, as if by chance.

  • Both agents will stare straight ahead, but about halfway through Agent AKA will take Agent Lydia’s hand in his hand and stroke the palm of her hand with his thumb, three times.

  • This will be the signal for Lydia to knock over the popcorn, so that both agents can lean forward, like they’re picking up the popcorn, and have a secret, urgent, short conversation about anything at all.

  So, I guess I’ll have to see you Friday night. Too bad if Mr T needs to give you any more cooking classes: the world needs you. Let me know if you have any queries about the assignment and I’ll take them up with the boss.

  Won’t it be great for you and me to have a conversation at last? Even if it’s just a secret, urgent, short one.

  See you

  Seb

  Dear Seb

  Why are guys always punching walls when they’re upset? Is it the fault of the brick wall? I don’t think so.

  It’s Friday morning right now, so tonight I guess I’ll see you at Operation Movie.

  Last night, Em and I had a meeting at the Blue Danish to discuss the revenge plan. I’ll tell you my idea: it’s to steal his girlfriend from him.

  When I said that to Em, she got her ruthless look and said Charlie’s the guy to do it.

  ‘It’s obvious,’ she said, ‘Charlie has always liked that Christina and Charlie knows how to get a girl to like him back.’

  I actually thought she liked Charlie herself, the way she’s been talking about him, but when I said that she got angry and said, ‘He’s just a friend, Lydia.’

  Em has high standards in guys so if she thinks Charlie can get Christina interested I guess it’s true. But maybe she’s got him wrong. Do girls at your school seem interested in Charlie?

  See you at Operation Movie tonight.

  Lydia

  Hey beautiful

  I think you will agree that Operation Movie was a success. Nobody would have guessed that we knew each other and our conversation over the spilled popcorn was a work of art. You’re better at keeping a straight face than I am though.

  I thought about the conversation all weekend and about how I would have continued if we hadn’t had to keep watching the movie. You say your friend Em is ruthless. She can’t be as bad as you: the way you sat back up, stared straight ahead and then left the cinema as soon as the credits started rolling.

  Anyway, fair enough. It was the ‘assignment’. Do you want to just meet up after school this week, maybe Wednesday arvo, like normal people instead of spies? When you think about it, how old are we? Me, I’m sixteen. I’m legally allowed to have sex and smoke cigarettes. Shouldn’t we be having sex and buying cigarettes?

  But okay, if you want to play the games. They’re pretty cool, Lyd.

  You’re a crazy girl.

  I’m not so sure that Charlie will be able to steal Christina away from Paul W. She’s not the kind of girl to cheat on a guy and she seems pretty into Paul.

  On the other hand, Charlie does have a way with the women.

  The last few years, he just seemed to be in the background, and usually a long way back because he wasn’t into the school concept. He didn’t come to many classes and nobody wondered where he was, or if they did they thought he was probably just smoking up somewhere.

  Then they found out where he was. He was taking teachers’ cars for a spin.

  It turned out he’d been doing this since age thirteen. And he wasn’t just taking them for a spin, he was working on them. His older brothers had taught him about engines.

  Don’t look at me like that, Lyd. This is a true story.

  He was so interested in cars, he’d drive them out to Kenthurst, give them a tune-up and bring them back in time for the end of the school day.

  I think the only reason he got caught was that some girl realised what he was doing, and talked him into taking her for a ride in the Rattler’s Audi. She was so turned on by the experience that she told everyone, and it got back to the Rattler, and it all came crashing down on Charlie’s head.

  So, Charlie’s spent a lot of time doing time in the principal’s office this year. Which is kind of how he and I have become buddies, as I myself have spent some time there.

  But the point is that Charlie’s now a bit of a legend and he doesn’t even realise it, which makes him even more alluring to the ladies.

  See you Wednesday arvo I hope.

  Seb

  Hey Seb

  Sorry I didn’t get back to you before Wednesday. I suddenly had a lot of homework.

  I couldn’t have met you yesterday anyway because we went to Cass’s—her mum wanted us to come over like in the old days. It was kind of a tradition. We’d watch TV and eat pasta while Patricia (Cass’s mum) worked out on the treadmill and gave us advice for life. And then Cass’s dad would sometimes come downstairs from his studio and make microwave puddings for dessert.

  Em adores Patricia. I don’t know about Patricia’s philosophies, but it’s true that she’s smart, and she’s so nice to Em and me, and at the end of the night she got off the treadmill and started talking to us about what we wanted to do for careers. We got so into career talk that we hardly even noticed there was no dessert.

  I know exactly what I want to do with my life. I want to be a writer. But you can’t just decide that. They keep telling us we have to have a back-up career and maybe I’ll never become a writer, so I have to choose the back-up carefully but the fact is, I haven’t got a clue.

  Only that I don’t want to be a lawyer.

  See you

  Lydia

  Lydia

  Why don’t you want to be a lawyer? I hear they’re good in emergencies.

  I know what you mean about back-up careers. Paul Wilson has been going on about how he has one career goal only, which is to go to NIDA and from there to international stardom. The teachers are pra
ising him for his ‘determined attitude’ which is like praising someone for being determined to win the lottery.

  Paul Wilson is not a smart guy. You’ve got to have options.

  Personally, I plan to play for Man United as my career, but I know that’s not necessarily possible. Example: I might get a hamstring injury just before the try-outs.

  So I have a back-up career choice which is: artist/graphic designer.

  I’m fairly confident about that career at the moment, for a reason which I have not told you yet, on account of not wanting to sound as arrogant as a striker. A painting of mine got selected to go in some competition in Newcastle.

  I get to take a train trip with my Art teacher, who’s a buddy of mine, carrying the painting in a canvas bag. And they’ll give us these small delicious food items known as canapés.

  Please see the below assignment.

  SPECIAL COVERT OPERATION ASSIGNMENT

  WHEN: Friday night

  WHAT: Both agents go to the Voodoo Lounge at Surry Hills, 10 pm. The agents have to pretend they don’t know each other. Agent AKA has to choose a pool table and rack up, and then turn around and at that moment Agent Lyd has to step up and ask if he wants a game. They have to play five games of pool. They’re allowed to buy drinks and have conversations. After the fifth game, they both have to leave.

  SPECIAL NOTE: The bouncer who works there on Fridays is as stupid as a goalie, so it’s fairly easy to get in. But let me know if you need help getting ID.

  Seb

  Hey Seb

  Congratulations on the art show. We heard about that competition here and I think the people in our Art classes are pissed off that your school got to represent the district. But I think it’s fantastic.

  On the other foot, I don’t think you put much effort into that pool-playing assignment. You forgot to give it a name.

  Don’t worry about ID for me.

  Lydia

  Dear Lydia

  See you tonight at Operation Chalking-the-Cue.

  Love

  Seb

  Dear Lyd

  Hello, it’s Monday. Welcome to the new week.

  You are a beautiful pool player. Who taught you how to win every game? Also, to do it so fast.

  You are beautiful at most things, but you still take the assignments too literally. Example: I was kind of gutted when you picked up your bag and walked right out of the place, without even looking back, at the end of the fifth game. As sexy as it was, it kind of hurt, Lyd.

  I’m seriously ready to stop playing games and start being humans.

  Also, it hurts my hand, all this writing. I could be getting repetitive strain injury. I’ve heard of that. It could affect my football.

  These letters to you add up to more writing than I’ve done my whole school life.

  Do you want to come over to my place some time and meet my mum and my kid brother? Do you want to maybe go into the city with me one day?

  Thanks

  Seb

  Hey Seb

  I like the games.

  Yesterday, I got home from school and I was just hanging around with my mum eating lamingtons and drinking tea, and we both knew Dad was up in his study working on a judgment, and I started thinking about Cass. How it must have been for her when we were over the other day, watching TV, with Patricia on the treadmill, how she must have felt the absence of her dad.

  Because in the old days he used to be up in his studio working on his furniture. He liked to make furniture that had secret compartments and Cass always put tiny locks in for him. Anyway, you could hear his footsteps on creaking floorboards sometimes, and you could hear tins being opened and closed, and you knew he’d come down any moment. Or even if he was too tired to do anything, you would hear his sofa creaking as he turned around on it.

  And the other day, when we were over there, Cass must have heard that silence all night. I sure did, anyway. Maybe after we left she went up to the studio and looked around the empty room, the desk in the corner where he used to draw designs, and the old pool table where he taught us all to play.

  And I was thinking how, right after he died, it was almost easier for Em and me because Cass just collapsed and we took care of her. She sat beside me in the car on the way home from the hospital with her head on my shoulder. On the day of the funeral, her hands trembled so much she could hardly get dressed, and Em and I helped her to do up the buttons of her shirt.

  But then, a few weeks later, she was acting like everything was fine, except she was quieter than before, and sometimes you’d be talking for a while and then realise she hadn’t been listening to you. And Em’s mother said what Cass needed was for Em and me to just be ourselves. Em says she stamped her feet on her bedroom floor each morning for a while, trying to stamp herself back into herself.

  And what I was thinking, while I ate the lamingtons with my mum, was that I don’t understand what it’s like to be properly sad—nothing nearly as bad as losing a father has ever happened to me. Which means I can’t really understand how Cass is feeling. I can’t get inside her sadness.

  I kind of wish something terrible had happened to me before, so I could know how to help.

  Anyway, I decided I should talk to Cass right then, and Mum agreed that it was a good idea and she drove me over.

  So, Cass was home by herself and we made ourselves cold Milo and hung around in the kitchen eating the Milo straight out of the tin with dessert spoons, the way we used to when we were kids. So then, we’re standing in the kitchen and I said, ‘Do you prefer not to talk about your dad?’

  And she just blows me away. She says, like she rehearsed it: ‘A year is a long time, Lyd. And besides which, it wasn’t a shock.’ And she explains, in this practical voice: ‘I looked up some stuff on the internet one time. I read these stories about teenagers who lost their parents suddenly, like unexpectedly in car accidents. They were all talking about how it would have been better if they could prepare themselves, and say goodbye and everything. So, see, look at me.’

  Then she put the lid back on the Milo tin and put it away in the cupboard.

  I was standing there, staring at her, figuring out something to say which would break through that crap. ‘Cass,’ I said, ‘you know there aren’t rules for being sad, don’t you?’

  ‘But I had a whole year to prepare,’ she said again. ‘It was pretty clear he wasn’t going to get better this time.’

  ‘Well, I thought he was going to get better.’

  I started getting a thumping heart then. Like I had said something too harsh to be said. But it was true. Even with all the medical facts in the world, I never thought he’d actually die. How could he stop existing?

  Cass gave one breath of laughter and said in an ordinary voice, ‘So did I.’

  Anyway, I won’t go into more details, except she started crying and then she said more stuff, and I was trying so hard not to start crying too, because I couldn’t believe the things that had been happening inside her head.

  All I can say is, I feel like killing Paul Wilson, like breaking his arms or crushing his bare feet under my mother’s sharpest stilettos. He has to be punished, Seb, and I can’t stand how powerless I am. I mean, I seriously think he could have killed Cass—if you’re that cruel to a person who’s trying to pretend she’s strong you could push them over the edge.

  Long letter, eh.

  Sorry Seb.

  Love

  Lydia

  Dear Lydia

  Thanks for your letter—it took me most of the afternoon to read it and then I had to re-read it because there were a lot of issues there. I will have to hand in your letter as an explanation for why I didn’t do my French assignment.

  Just kidding, Lyd, I would never hand in your letters. They’re precious to me. I would never show another human being a single word.

  There are a couple of issues I would like to focus on in this letter. The rest we should talk about in person because, Lyd, you are beautiful and I would like to help
if I can.

  Issue number 1 is about Paul Wilson. Can you not talk too much about what a prick he is, please? Because it makes me feel like beating him up and I have to clench my fists to prevent that happening. I’ve got a confession to make, which is that I’ve had a bit of trouble at school in the last few years. The trouble is my tendency to beat people up when they’re being arseholes.

  So, I was on the verge of getting thrown out of school earlier this year, which was breaking my mother’s heart, which was not good as she was fairly pregnant at that time. But I got put on probation and I’ve controlled this temper of mine ever since, which has been hard labour, I tell you.

  Plus, I started tae kwon do. That might seem like a strange way to stop yourself beating people up but the point of tae kwon do is NOT to beat people up. Which is why I did it.

  So, in relation to Paul Wilson, I know exactly what you mean when you say you feel like breaking his face, but you’re lucky in a way because you’re a girl and you can’t do that. It must be a relief.

  Issue number 2 is about how you wish something bad had happened to you in your past. You don’t really wish that, Lyd. You don’t want to wish tragic events on anyone and that includes yourself. As the Mighty Mighty Bosstones like to say, it’s bad to have tragedies happen. Knock on wood.

  Or words nothing like that, but which mean the same thing.

  Issue number 3 is about how people can be so cruel that they cause another person to do themselves in. In actual fact, I heard of some girls in Canada who bullied another girl so much that she killed herself. And I think the bullies got done for it. As in convicted of manslaughter. So, you’re right about that possibility. The principal told me this story because she thought I was beating people up like a bully. But that’s not what it was: it was just people who deserved it. She didn’t get the distinction.