Finding Cassie Crazy (18 page)

I've been thinking
a lot
about this situation between you and me. How it's kind of changed so sudden and sharply like that.

Like, okay, if an aeroplane banked as sharp as that, the passengers would tip out of their seats.

I guess it seems weird to me that you can forgive me for all that violent imagery (as you would say in your crazy way). How do I know you're not just messing with me, so you can get your revenge some time? Like stick in the knife. As everyone else seems to do.

No one has ever been honest to me like you've been. I like it.

I get turned on when I see your handwriting on an envelope.

Cannot friggin believe I just said that.

It's just that you seem complicated and cool at the same time, and way more fascinating than any other girl I ever heard of, and I cannot believe you're an Ashbury girl. Plus, my friends here kind of hate me a bit these days because
I was being an arsehole to them just like I was to you, lately. On account of that girl from your school breaking my heart and ruining my life and everything.

You're kind of lucky having best friends who you've known since you were five years old or whatever. I bet they'd forgive you if you went through a bad phase like I did.

Okay, I've thought about it, and I'd really like it if you got some help from your mum about my trumpet-playing situation.

It would be so great if I could get to play again, and play in the School Spectacular, because of advice from your mother. You know, the School Spectacular gets televised? So, maybe someone will see it and ask me to be in their band or whatever. Plus my nan would be proud of me. Though you probably can't get ABC in Heaven. You'd only be able to get Foxtel Sports and the porno channels.

Tell me what she suggests, okay?

Love

Matthew

Dear Matthew

Can you tell me if you have a Science teacher called the Rattler or the Rattlesnake at your school and, if so, what his actual name is? Also, can you tell me everything you can about him, including what kind of car he drives? Thanks.

In actual fact, I haven't been friends with Emily and Lydia since we were five years old, as you said. Although I did meet Emily in first grade, but then it wasn't until second grade that we became friends with Lydia, and that was only because Em
and I gave her special permission to become our friend. You want to know why Em and I were best friends? BECAUSE WE BOTH HAD GLASSES WITH PATCHES. Everyone else in the class wanted to be our friend because of our eye patches. It was like a kind of secret society. And we made the others do auditions to be our friend. We said no to everyone except Lydia because we both liked her and she made up this really great story about fairies and witches and stuff as her audition, and she made Emily and me the fairies in the story, so we were happy.

Interestingly, it turned out that most of our parents already knew each other because they went to law school together.

I'm sure your friends still like you. Could you just explain to them about how you weren't being yourself, on account of going through the difficult time, and apologise, and promise not to do it again? But then again, I guess listening to my advice hasn't been all that helpful so far. I feel bad about that.

But I hate it when people are lonely. This girl in my year named Elizabeth, who I'm kind of half friends with, well, she's got this best friend who used to run away all the time. Last year she even ran away to the circus and then she disappeared completely for ages. I used to see Liz walking around trying to pretend that she liked the other people she was hanging around with but I could tell she didn't.

I just can't imagine how it would be if I didn't have Lydia and Emily. Or if they kept disappearing.

I've told my mother about your issue with the trumpet playing and everything, and she got angry on your behalf. She has all these suggestions to help you in your fight with the principal. Do you want me to send them?

Don't forget to tell me about your teacher called the Rattlesnake, okay?

Thanks

Cassie

Dear Cassie

How come you want to know about the Rattler? Yeah, we've got a teacher called Mr Rivers, and he happens to drive a very nice little silver Audi, which makes you wonder what he's doing teaching at a hell hole like Brookfield. He's parked it in this special place behind the admin block ever since this moron took it for a spin last year when it was in the parking lot. Now it's under the trees so the birds shit on it, but at least it's shady I guess.

Apart from that, I don't really have anything to say about the Rattler. Hope that helps.

It would be so great if your mum could help with my situation. I would just love you forever.

Matthew

Dear Matthew

Thanks for the information about your teacher called the Rattler. It was very useful.

My mum's got this huge amount of information she wants me to send to you, but I don't really know if I can put it into the Ashbury–Brookfield mail system. I mean, it's like a foolscap folder worth of material including the United
Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child and the European Human Rights Convention etc, and all kinds of cases about kids' rights to express themselves by playing the trumpet. Or anyway, practically that. One thing you've done is get my mother excited about something, which is a real change for her, so congratulations. But how do you reckon I should get this information to you? I should send it to you soon, because it's almost the holidays and I guess we won't be in contact until next term.

See you

Cassie

Dear Cassie

Why don't we meet so you can give me the material? I'd kind of like to ask you out anyway. I think my broken heart has been healed by your handwriting on the outside of envelopes.

I think you are a sweet, kind, mad human being, and I'd like to get together with you and see what happens. I hope you don't mind me saying things like this. I wish I could fly a plane already because I'd take you for a spin, because I think that's where you deserve to be: up there with the stars.

Do you want to meet somewhere? Maybe this Friday after school? I was even thinking we could have a kind of after-school picnic at the reserve at the back of your school, to break the spell of the bad memories, and like a symbol of a new start: you and me. Start of the winter holidays. Start of something fresh. I know it's cold but I could bring blankets.

I hope I'm not making a fool of myself here.

Matthew

Dear Matthew

I don't think you're making a fool of yourself. I think you're pretty weird and I think this is the strangest way to get to know someone ever. I made a lot of a fool of myself writing you all those stupid letters earlier this term, when you were telling me to get lost. I can't even explain why I kept writing.

But now, you seem like a really strange and interesting person, and I guess I'd like to meet you.

I don't know about meeting in the reserve. It's practically winter, and it's getting dark fairly early each day.

But I suppose if you need to get rid of your bad feelings about the reserve, I can meet you there.

Best wishes

Cassie

Dear Cassie

Thank you for believing in me. I can't tell you how much that means to me. One day I'll play a beautiful trumpet solo for you.

Let's meet just inside the first gate of the reserve—just before the trees get too dense so at least we'll have moonlight if it gets too dark.

Let's make it 4 pm, okay?

Last day of term.

I'll bring something to celebrate with.

See you Friday

Matthew

Hey! Things are really hotting up! Your literary skills are
on fire
! Go, you writer!

Which is why the theme of this Part of your Note-book™ is going to be
heat
!! Start by telling us the hottest thing you can think of right this moment.

Seb Mantegna.

Ouch! You've scalded our fingertips! Nice description. You're really getting the hang of this. And now, for a 360-degree rotation, how about the coldest things?

Why?

I saw Seb last night for exactly three seconds.

It was the last day of school and we were meeting at the Blue Danish. Cass was supposed to be there too. She said she had to meet someone else, but then she was going to come and find me there. But she didn't show up. The traitor.

So, I'm sitting in the corner armchair, trying to look around without looking like I'm looking around, the loudest noise being the fast-paced tapping of my heart.

Then there's a shadow in the café doorway and a sunflower in my face. And there is Seb, looking dead serious, handing me this flower, turning round and walking out the door.

I hardly even saw what he looked like, except for the wicked spark in his eyes.

So how did he know it was me? Do I look like my letters that much? I don't even think I'm being myself in my letters, so how could I look like them?

I did notice that he had dark hair and
pale beautiful creamy transparent translucent milky coffee hazelnut
lighter skin.

Well, it's the first day of the winter holidays, so I could talk about ‘cold' like you want me to. OH LOOK, I'VE RUN OUT OF SPACE. Sorry.

Back to HOT again! Tell us some cures for sunburn! Ask your family for ideas.

I should just let you know that I'm not at home with the family
at the moment. I'm at Em's place, sitting at her kitchen table eating crumpets.

Em's parents are about to go away for a few days. Em is standing at the open fridge looking for honey. Her dad is sitting at the table opposite me, leaning over a notepad and writing in a frenzy. Her mum is walking in and out of the kitchen, carrying a dictaphone that she's talking to in a mystery language.

I will now ask everyone here for a sunburn cure.

You should always try to offer some advice in your stories. Throw in a sunburn cure and you'll make at least one reader happy!

Describe what it's like being sunburnt . . .

Barney and Maribelle were riding on a merry-go-round.
Barney on the antelope, Maribelle on the zebra. This reminded them that their youngest child, Eloise, had not phoned lately. (Eloise had a pet zebra.) She would be turning four next week.

‘Remember when we taught her to fly?' said Barney, tenderly. ‘On her third birthday?'

‘Ah yes,' recalled Maribelle, wistfully. ‘It was a sunny day and her nose got sunburnt! She felt a stinging sensation. Later, the sunburnt nose itched.'

QUICK FLICK! Time for some flexing of your memory muscles! Tell us about some
really
hot days from your past.

I remember Cass in Year 8 holding an ice-block against the back of my neck to cool me down on a 40-degree day.

Cass is supposed to be here already actually. She's extremely late.

We'll let you in on a secret. Another thing that readers love to hear about is food. The reason people read is so that they can get
recipe
ideas. Tell us some piping-hot foods that are perfect on a cold wintry day.

I'll let you in on a secret: sometimes you get on my nerves.

The reason people read is so they
can travel without leaving home
! Do a little research on a very hot country for us.

I thought they were reading because they were hungry.

Grab a thesaurus, look up the word ‘hot' and write down the first five words that it gives.

Mr Thompson just got a thesaurus from his study for me, even though his taxi is waiting outside. Mrs Thompson is still talking in her strange language and doesn't seem to notice the taxi horn, which is blaring.

Warm, humid, sultry, sweltering, simmering, scalding, burning.

Actually, where
is
Cassie? It's almost lunchtime and we were supposed to have breakfast here together.

Okay, we're almost done here, and it's time to let you in on a secret. Are you listening?

‘Hot', as you know, can refer to the temperature. But did you know it also means a whole heap of other things?!

What do you think this is:

   

It's the box!

Now—tattatattatattatatta (drum roll)—where
should
you be thinking?
That's right!!!!
OUTSIDE the box.

   

If you think
outside
the box, what does ‘hot' mean besides a hot temperature?

FINALLY, Cassie's at the door. She's calling out that there's a taxi waiting outside if anybody wants it, and Mr and Mrs Thompson both just jumped to their feet, knocking their chairs over in shock.

I'll leave you to play with your boxes and find out where she's been.

Yep. That's right! But don't be embarrassed.

The main thing is—you've got the idea. Take a break and we'll see you next time.