Finding Cassie Crazy (38 page)

Now, I'm not a little guy, but he's got a black belt in karate or whatever and, the fact was, I was just not interested. I don't believe in violence. So I was trying to calm him down, you know, defend myself.

The result was a black eye, bloody nose etc, and me lying on the ground getting kicked in the gut.

Wow. Not a pretty picture.

So, why am I telling you this?

Well, when Seb kicked me for the final, vicious time, he said, ‘This is for what you did to Cass Aganovic, you scum-sucking arsehole.'

Whoa!
Who's Cass Aganovic?
I pondered, as I tried to get my breath (and my dignity) back.

And then I remembered—it's that Ashbury girl who wrote to me way back last term.

So, Cassie, do you happen to know anything about this? Is Seb a great friend of yours? Or are you as lost as I am?

The one good thing is that this guy—Seb—has been in trouble for fighting before.

So, this should be enough to get him expelled.

All the best
Paul Wilson

PS I just looked up your address (your last name is fairly unique!) and I think I'll swing by and put this under your door right away. The faster we get to the bottom of this, the better. Hope you don't mind that I now know where you live! Maybe I'll spot you through a window!

PPS You know, it occurs to me that Seb Mantegna is going off to Newcastle for some art show tomorrow. I'll make sure I get to the principal first thing in the morning and stop them from letting him go! Am I wicked to look forward to the disappointment on his face? No. In any case, he shouldn't be allowed to represent the school—he's obviously unhinged.

Deranged in the head.

Take care Cassie
Paul

Tuesday

Dear Charlie
GUESS WHAT WE HAVE DONE?!?!

WE HAVE KIDNAPPED PAUL WILSON!

I'm not joking, it's true. (And Charlie, therefore you should speak to me again and listen to me! And forgive me. Forget all about the gas leak incident, okay, as that incident just fails by comparison.)

We had to kidnap Paul because he was going to tell the school that Seb attacked him, which would have stopped Seb from going to the art show! Which we all know was his dream.

Don't worry though, it is not an illegal kidnapping as Paul does not know he has been kidnapped.

Please forgive me now, okay. Great, thanks. I have to go as I'm just rushing this at afternoon roll call, which I'm attending on behalf of Cass and Lyd and me.

Love
Em

Dear Seb
I might be mad at you, but I didn't want you beating someone up or getting thrown out of your school. And I really wanted you to go to your art show.

It's now Tuesday afternoon, so I'm hoping you're at your show right now. I won't go into details now but we've been keeping Paul distracted for today. I don't know how we can stop him going to the principal tomorrow though.

Lydia

Wednesday

Dear Em
You guys took care of Paul Wilson so Seb could go to his art show? I just saw Seb and, guess what, he won some prize at the show.

I don't just forgive you, Em, I completely adore you.

Love
Charlie

PS Em? How exactly did you kidnap Wilson without him noticing?

Dear Lydia
Okay, I'm writing this with the full expectation that I'll be expelled when Paul gets around to telling the teachers how I kicked his arse.

But I've got a heart full of happiness. Because it's so good to see your words again, and because I went to the art show yesterday. Which was an excellent day, with the canapés as promised and my art teacher full of canapé-like conversation on the train.

I got to school expecting to be thrown out on the spot, and I couldn't believe it when the Art teacher and I just headed to the station, brazen as a pair of cockatoos. I thought maybe God had sent a truck to run Paul down on his way to the principal's office.

I now realise that you are God.

How did you even know I'd attacked Paul Wilson? How did you keep him away all day?

These are the questions that mystify me.

You're right, Lyd, it was a stupid thing to do, attacking the Year 10 Form Captain and Star of the School Drama. But I swear on David Beckham's haircut, Paul Wilson is the last person I plan to beat up in my whole life. Unless, let's say, it's absolutely necessary to beat someone up.

So you know that I'm not a maniac who lays into people at random, I'll tell you what happened with Paul.

I'm walking home from school, thinking about your beautiful face and even more beautiful personality, and trying to figure out how I might see them again, and I notice Paul Wilson across the road, walking along with good posture like the arrogant prick that he is.

I started thinking as follows: it's the fault of that guy that Lyd thinks the world is an evil place which you can't trust, and it's the fault of that attitude of Lyd's that she's taking so long to forgive me for a small error of mine.

‘Hey arsehole,' I said, but in a friendly way, so he thought I was just saying hi.

‘Hey cockbrain,' he said, in response.

Then I crossed over the road and we walked along for a bit, pretending to like each other. I raised the fact that Ashbury girls are hot. He agreed but added that they're cockteasing rich bitches, or words like that. I acted like I was interested in this opinion and asked if he'd had personal experience. He said he could tell from the way they looked at him.

So then I asked whether he got a penfriend at Ashbury in Radison's English class.

And you know what he did? He told me what he did to
Cassie. In shorthand form but basically it was all there, like a funny story.

Like maybe he'd been waiting to tell someone?

So I said: ‘Fuck me, you really are an arsehole,' and beat the crap out of him.

You have to admit, that's an unusual situation.

Love
Seb

Thursday

Dear Seb
I hope you're still at school to get this letter. Sorry we couldn't figure out a way to stop Paul from telling on you ever. Eg we could have killed him. But I'm happy we got you to the art show—I heard you won a prize and I'm so proud of you I can't stop smiling.

Okay, I'll now tell you what happened with Paul Wilson.

The night before your art show Cass found a letter under the front door of her home, which was from Paul. He basically told her you'd attacked him and that he was going to get revenge by telling the principal the next morning.

He must have thought that Cass arranged the attack and he wanted to let her know he was still the winner.

So Cass figured out this plan to make sure he couldn't get to say anything until after your show.

Then she called Em and me around and we worked out the details.

So this is what happened.

Early in the morning, Em phoned Paul Wilson's place and
put on a posh voice. She said that she was a casting agent who sometimes went to rehearsals of school plays to scout for new talent. (Okay. Shut up. It was a long shot. But he fell for every word.)

‘Now, I've been at some of your Brookfield play rehearsals lately,' Em said, ‘and I've been
extremely
excited by your work, young man.' She was reading from a script that we'd written together.

Cass and I could hear Paul's voice on the other end of the phone. He was trying to be polite, like, ‘Well, that's very kind of you,' with this little chuckle.

Then Em says, ‘I've been meaning to suggest you come in for a photo shoot, but I've got a minor emergency and I'm calling to ask for your help. A local production company is filming the final scenes of a made-for-TV movie today and they had a young actor lined up for a small part—but, as luck would have it, he's got food poisoning and can't do it!'

‘Oh no!' said Paul.

‘The filming is way over time,' continued Em, ‘and Heath and Naomi have to fly back to LA tomorrow—so it's got to be done today!'

Originally Cass wanted Josh Hartnett and Reese Witherspoon to be flying back to LA tomorrow, but then we decided to Australianise it.

‘Oh dear!' says Paul, sounding like the biggest nerd on earth.

‘So, the producers called me, and I was going through my regular list but I just kept seeing your
face
in my
mind's eye
, and I think you'd be perfect for this role.'

Paul goes, ‘Really?'

‘Really. I phoned your school principal, got your contact
details and also got her permission to take you out of school for the day.'

(Actually, we got his contact details from the phone book. It was easy—you once told me what street he lives on.)

Em stopped and Cass mouthed at her: ‘If that's not a problem for you.'

‘If that's not a problem for you,' Em added.

Paul tried to switch on a professional voice and said, ‘That's not a problem at all—although'—and he got slightly panicked—‘I was in a bit of an accident last night—and I've got a bit of a bruise around one of my eyes . . .'

‘You clearly don't know the magic of makeup artists, do you?' Em says, smoothly, which was some pretty amazing improvisation on her part.

‘We'd obviously like you to come by right away, so you can learn your lines and get your makeup and costuming done,' Em continues, going back to her script.

And Paul says, ‘No problem.'

I think I already told you that my mum is one of the owners of a small production studio? The receptionist, Mary-Ellen, lets us hang out in their makeup section when we don't feel like going to school.

So Em gave Paul the address of the studio.

And we asked Mary-Ellen to watch out for our ‘friend', Paul Wilson, and send him to the makeup room when he arrived.

That's where I met him, and I pretended I was like the director's trainee assistant and I gave him this five-page script I'd written.

He spent all morning practising his lines into one of the mirrors.

I made him play this boy who's having a mental breakdown in the middle of a disaster scene. So he had these really stupid lines, such as a bit where he had to burst into tears and say, ‘Mummy? My socks are falling down!' and also another bit where he has to have a sneezing fit.

I kept going in and out of the room, pretending I was doing stuff with makeup, and trying not to crack up at the way he kept trying out different kinds of sneezes.

Then I asked Jerry, the makeup artist, to go in there and give him the most over-the-top makeup job ever. Jerry had a good excuse for it too, because of Paul's black eye (which didn't look that bad to me—he's a bit of a wimp if he calls that getting smashed). Anyway, Jerry did a fantastic job. Paul looked like a vampire.