Finding Cassie Crazy (17 page)

I got into a relationship with this girl and maybe you even know her so I won't say her name. She's really pretty with sparkling eyes and kind of soft skinned. I was wacked out in love with her, like my heart could hardly stay up in my chest. So she talked me into meeting her at lunch a month or so back, in that reserve which is at the back of your school, and I went. I'm such a moron, but my heart was, you know, wacked. So I went, and we're there, don't get offended, but we're there on the grass, getting it on, I apologise for offending you, talking about doing it with another girl.

But that's what was going on.

And your school principal was walking through the reserve and she found us, and right off this girl turns on me and tells
this bullshit story about how I forced her. Like I forced her to come to the reserve with me, and I threatened to break up with her if she didn't, blah blah, which was such a lie.

I still miss her sparkling eyes though. You know?

But you guessed it, I was going to represent my school in the School Spectacular again this year, on the trumpet, and now, no chance. Your principal told my headmistress and it's all screwed. She turned the screws. It's a screwed-up world. You know? She banned me from playing.

I guess some parts of your letters seemed real to me, like how your hands get too cold to play the piano and all that crap. I don't know, sometimes I forget how much I hate you and it just seems like you are a nice story I'm reading.

But every time I get to the end of your letters I think about what bitches go to Ashbury and I think that you are one of them.

Matthew

Hi Matthew

Well, that was the longest letter I ever saw from you and thank you for writing it.

I don't know who that girl was, but why don't you tell me and I can hate her for you. I'm sorry she was such a bitch but I promise that not all Ashbury girls are bitches, so don't let her ruin our reputation.

But I'm really sorry you won't get to play the trumpet at the School Spectacular this year. That seems kind of a harsh punishment, considering it's the thing you love most.

Since you told me a secret, I want to tell you a secret.

The thing I love most is singing, actually. You know how I'm kind of musical and I really don't mean that in a showing-off way, it's just something I inherited from my mother. Well, so, you know how I'm musical, I love to sing, and I always had this very secret dream to be a singer. Like, on stage.

But I get such serious stagefright like you wouldn't believe. I'm not a scared kind of a person. Okay, I'm fairly quiet but not because I'm
scared
to talk, just because I don't always want to.

And the thing is this: I just wish I'd put my hand in the air, to volunteer, I mean, at the start of this term when they asked for volunteers for our school's Spring Concert. All the time, my mind was going
Put your hand up, Cassie, put your hand up.
But I stared at my hands and they just sat there, being quiet.

Sorry I told you that. I guess it's just meant to show I have sympathy with you not being able to play the trumpet when you want to. Maybe you should go and talk to the principal and just explain how important it is and ask if you can have another punishment? Something like that?

See you

Cassie

Dear Cassie

Well, I tried what you suggested and now I'm in even worse trouble.

Sorry, I know it's not your fault. You are an angel with the wings of a DC10, I know it, and I can tell from your handwriting that you've got a pretty face and cute ears. I kind
of think sometimes about kissing you, behind your ears.

Anyhow, I feel bad about all those threats I used to send to you, is all.

So, what happened was, I went to the principal and I said what you suggested, and the principal just sat behind her desk there with this smug little smirk of an expression on her face, and before I'd even finished she was shaking her head. So I got so pissed off, and I just couldn't control my temper, you've seen my temper, it's not me, okay? It's not who I am. You know that now, right, Cassie?

Sure you do.

Anyway, a little voice in my head was saying,
Matthew! Shut up! Play it cool!
but I was using every four-letter word in the dictionary, and I guess those are not actually dictionary words. But I used them and I added strawberry flavouring as well, and the upshot is that I'm not allowed to take trumpet lessons any more.

As in, I do my trumpet lessons at school with the music teacher because my parents can't afford to pay for them, my dad's just a factory worker and my mum just does some telephone sales from home, and now it's like the world's slammed the door in my face. I'm like hammering on the door with both my fists and the world is behind it, shaking its head.

Ah Cass, I don't know what to do. I'm screwed up, mixed up, messed around, dive-bombing, crashing and burning. You know. I'll never be a pilot.

I'd kind of like to hold your hand.

Matthew

Hi Matthew

Well, you've changed a lot. I'm kind of freaked out.

I wish I could help you. I mean, that's so terrible, that you can't have trumpet lessons any more. I can't believe they would do that to you.

Maybe you should go and apologise to the principal or something? I mean, I know I wouldn't want to do that, because of the indignity and everything. But maybe it's worth it to suffer some indignity for the sake of your trumpet playing?

Best wishes

Cassie

Dear Cassie

Okay, here's what happened. I went and apologised, like you told me to, and the principal was like a witch and said, ‘Nice try, mister' as if she could tell I was only doing it to get my trumpet lessons back. She made me hand my trumpet in, so now I don't even have that any more, and maybe if I hadn't gone back to apologise she wouldn't have recalled that it was a school trumpet.

My parents got divorced a while back, and my mum hates my dad's guts, but actually I'd prefer to be living with my dad than my mum. My mum's never home because she goes to work in her factory, and my dad has to go around the country looking for work. It's not his fault that he lost his job, and he can't afford new shoes so his feet are all blistered and chafed. My mum wants me to change my name because it makes her want to spit when she remembers that I have my dad's surname, and she can't stand to see me walking around
her house knowing I'm half my dad. She wants me to tell the judge that I hate my dad, which I can't bring myself to do because it's like lying in a courtroom. That's like blasphemy. There's nothing I hate worse than a liar.

The only person I really liked having around is my nan but she went and died last year, of a weak heart, and it's like as lonely as a drip of water now. As lonely as one single drip of water in a laundry, falling DRIP into a rusty sink.

You're a nice person, I guess, and I'm an arsehole, the way I kept threatening you when you first started writing. So, okay, step up closer to the mike for a moment and I'll say I'm sorry. But I only say that word in a whisper.

Matt

Hey Matthew

So now you've got me feeling kind of guilty. Talking about how I'm a nice person and everything, when I don't really think I'm that nice.

I didn't take those threats of yours seriously and I just liked messing with your mind. You seemed to hate getting letters from me so that's the reason why I kept writing. I just liked how mad it got you.

You know, my mother is a lawyer, and I think I maybe mentioned that she used to do a lot of work with kids and protecting their rights and so on. So, if you want, I can ask her for some advice about your situation with the trumpet and all that.

Catch ya

Cassie

PS I thought you said your dad was the factory worker and your mum did telephone sales?

Hi Cassie

Yeah, the reason my dad lost his job in the factory was that my mum went along to the factory and told all these lies about how he's not a trustworthy guy, and so they fired him, and then my mum got his job. So now she's the one making the little plastic letter-candles that go on birthday cakes, instead of Dad.