Finding Cassie Crazy

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  *For the purposes of the money-back guarantee, a ‘Writer’ is defined as a person who has, at any time in his or her life, used a typewriter, computer or pen. Guarantee applies only to persons over 21 years of age. Guarantee applies only to residents of Regina, Saskatchewan. Credit card and valid photo ID required.

  PART 37

  EMILY

  IN THE SUPREME

  COURT OF NEW

  SOUTH WALES To: Emily Melissa-Anne

  Thompson

  52 Hunting-down Circle

  Cherrybrook NSW 2126

  SYDNEY REGISTRY

  COMMON LAW

  DIVISION

  SUBPOENA TO

  ATTEND AND

  UNDERTAKE CERTAIN

  TASKS

  Signed

  Benjamin A. Thompson

  (the Dad)

  THE PARENTS HEREBY

  ORDER that you shall

  ATTEND AND UNDERTAKE

  THE TASKS described

  BELOW:

  (a) Go horse riding

  (b) at the Country Cottage;

  (c) with your Parents and your little brother (‘William’);

  (d) on the first weekend of the holidays, and until you are excused by the Parents from further attending;

  (e) because the Parents are so proud of you.

  Please note that:

  (1) if you do not comply with

  this subpoena you may be

  arrested.

  PART 38

  CASSIE

  So, a funny thing happened last night, Diary.

  Mum and I decided to stop seeing Claire the counsellor.

  How it happened was this: Claire made us decorate little plastic Christmas trees on her office floor. (It’s October, by the way.) Mum was too shocked even to think up some tricky reason why this might be illegal so we spent the whole time quietly twirling tinsel around tree branches, every now and then sneaking looks at Claire to check that she was for real. Whenever Claire wasn’t looking, we opened our eyes really wide at each other, like, What is going on here?

  So, then, at the end, Claire said, ‘You guys like decorating therapy as much as I do?’

  Mum and I nodded at her, politely and carefully. And then we didn’t say a word on the way out to the car, or even as we got into the car while it went DING DING DING, waiting for us to put on our seatbelts. Mum looked over her shoulder to reverse out of the parking spot, and then, as she put the car into drive and adjusted the rear-view mirror, she said, ‘Cassie?’

  And I said, ‘Absolutely.’

  Which was our way of saying that that was the last time we were going near that crazy lady.

  Mum said that the main thing is that people at work are now used to her leaving early every second Thursday, and she’s going to keep doing that, whatever. Only now she and I can hang out together, without Claire getting in our way.

  Then we started saying all the things that were stupid about Claire, such as the way she played applause for us, and the way she squints, and the way there are always two buttons missing from her cardigan, and the way she pretends to be smarter than us, and the way she told Mum to write a letter to Dad but she didn’t let me do that too.

  That last one was something I said, which made Mum brake a bit dangerously, and say, ‘Cassie!’

  And I said, ‘What?’

  And she said, ‘You don’t need Claire’s permission if you want to write a letter to Dad.’

  And I just shrugged and said I’d been kind of jealous that she got to do that, whereas I had to talk to a stranger for my homework, which didn’t seem fair and, next thing, Mum was crying.

  Only for a second though. She cries unexpectedly like for a second sometimes, like a sneeze. Then she turned the cry into a laugh and said, ‘Did you get candy canes for your Christmas tree?’

  So then we drove along for a few minutes, listening to music and kind of giggling to ourselves, thinking about Claire’s Christmas decorations.

  ‘Listen,’ Mum said, getting serious again. ‘If you do want to keep seeing Claire, I mean, if you want to ask her any questions or anything, then you just say so, don’t let me steamroller you here.’

  I thought about it, and I said, ‘The only question I want to ask Claire is why she told me I had to find a stranger to be a new friend.’

  ‘I can tell you why,’ said Mum, right away. ‘She knew she was such a crappy therapist that even a perfect stranger would be better than her.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, getting cross, ‘I don’t see why I couldn’t just talk to Lydia and Emily. They’re my best friends.’

  So then Mum said, ‘Who knows what’s going on in that woman’s mind, but I can tell you why I might have suggested the same thing.’ Then she said she thought maybe I’d changed a bit after what happened, but I didn’t know how to be the new self with Lyd and Em. Because they knew me as the old me. Whereas I could try out the new personality on a stranger, and prove to myself that it worked.

  ‘Do you think I’ve got a new personality?’ I said.

  ‘Do you?’ She likes to throw questions back like a schoolteacher.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m deranged in the head.’ I said it right away, like a joke.

  Mum just laughed, as if it was a joke, and she said, ‘Well, I think the amazing thing is this: that you are just as lovely as you ever were, except stronger and braver than before.’

  Then we slowed down because lights up ahead had turned orange, and she slapped both hands on the steering wheel and said, ‘The witness may step down,’ at which exact moment a woman waiting on the kerb stepped down onto the road.

  So, anyhow, I don’t know about that theory of Mum’s, that I’m a new person now.

  And if I am, when do I get to try out my new personality on a stranger?

  Seb and Charlie seem pretty cool. And Seb says he’s going to introduce me to Christina, so we can have fun ripping into Paul Wilson. I don’t know about that, but still, maybe they can all be the strangers. Or I could just ask Lyd and Em to cut their hair and wear sunglasses.

  Whatever, on Monday there was a notice on the board at school, saying we had to do something for the Spring Concert. Because they’ve expanded it now, to bring in the people with Brookfield penfriends. I could have just put myself down as a ticket-seller or something, but it seemed like a second chance to put my hand in the air (although, to be honest, you didn’t have to put your hand in the air, you just went to Mrs Lilydale’s office and wrote your name in a book).

  So this is what I wrote:

  ‘‘‘In the Stars”, a song performed by Cass Aganovic (Ashbury); words by Matthew Dunlop (Brookfield).’

  Then I walked out of the office and thought: Oh my God, what did you just do?

  Anyway, but today, at the rehearsal, I decided I may as well pretend to myself that Mum was right. That I have some kind of a new brave identity now. And I think it worked.

  I’m dedicating the song to my dad. Not that I’ll say that aloud, okay, because people will think I’m looking for the sympathy vote. But you’ll know that I mean it for you. And I’ll write out the words for you here:

  I saw your name in lights last night.

  It’s the middle of the night,

  and I can’t sleep,

  thinking all my trumpeting thoughts,

  and I get out of bed,

  open the curtains

  and look into the night full of stars,

  and you know what I saw?

  Your name.

  Like the stars joined up and spelled the word for me.

  Like a sign.

  It’s not exactly Shakespeare, eh. And like a sign of what? But it works with the music I wrote, and it’s straight from one of Matthew Dunlop’s letters.

  All this time, we were trying to figure out who he was, who would have thought he was a songwriter?

  PART 39

  ASHBURY HIGH

  YEAR 10

  NOTICEBOARD

  THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

 
I thought I would go round the bend!

  But it all worked out in the end.

  Well done, Year 10!

  The Spring for Unity! Concert

  The Spring for Unity! Concert will take place at 7 pm tonight. The Spring for Unity! Concert looks set to be a marvellous evening. Cecily Mackenzie, mother of Bindy Mackenzie, has generously offered six free places in her Club Catamaran Sailing School as prizes for the best contributions! As Mr Botherit says, the Spirit of Friendship is alive and well again!

  This has been a message from your Form Mistress

  Late Entry in the Spring for Unity! Concert

  We have received a late contribution to the Spring for Unity! Concert. Barney and Maribelle Learn to Fly , a children’s book * written by Lydia Jaackson-Oberman (Ashbury), illustrated by Seb Mantegna (Brookfield), will be on display in the entry way to the hall this evening.

  For Sale

  ACID®PRO 4.0 (audio looping software). Comes with content CD which has multi-genre music loops (dance, hip hop, techno, industrial, rock, jazz, etc). Recently purchased and used once only. Price negotiable.

  Any interest, please contact Lydia Jaackson-Oberman, Emily Thompson or Cassie Aganovic.

  *Please note that the book is not suitable for children—all the characters suffer unexpected and startling fates on the final page.

  Jaclyn Moriarty

  Feeling Sorry for Celia

  Dear Ms Clarry,

  It is with great pleasure that we invite you to join our Society.

  We have just found out about your holiday. It is so impressive! You

  had four assignments, an English essay and a chapter of Maths to do.

  And you didn’t do one single piece of homework!

  Fabulous!

  Also we have a feeling that you have a History test today.

  And you’re trying to study now? On the bus? With the Brookfield

  boys climbing onto each other’s shoulders to get to the emergency

  roof exit? And with Celia about to get on the bus at any moment?

  And you think that’s going to make a difference!!!

  That’s really very amusing, Elizabeth. We like you for it.

  You’re perfect for our Society and we’re very excited

  about having you join.

  Yours sincerely,

  The Manager

  Society of People who are Definitely Going to Fail High School

  (and Most Probably Life as Well!

  ‘Elizabeth Clarry is exactly the sort of person I’d love for a best friend’ MELINA MARCHETTA, AUTHOR OF LOOKING FOR ALIBRANDI

  ‘Hilarious . . . a must for any angst-ridden teenager’

  DOLLY

  ‘Moriarty’s writing is a hoot and her sense of irony perfectly placed in this hilarious addition to the genre of genuinely comic Australian young adult novels’

  THE AUSTRALIAN

  Markus Zusak

  The Messenger

  PROTECT THE DIAMONDS

  SURVIVE THE CLUBS

  DIG DEEP THROUGH THE SPADES

  FEEL THE HEARTS

  Meet Ed Kennedy—cab driving prodigy, pathetic card player and useless at sex. He lives in a suburban shack, shares coffee with his dog, the Doorman, and he’s in nervous-love with Audrey. His life is one of peaceful routine and incompetence—until he inadvertently stops a bank robbery.

  That’s when the first ace turns up.

  That’s when Ed becomes the messenger.

  Chosen to care, he makes his way through town, helping and hurting (where necessary) until only one question remains. Who’s behind Ed’s mission?

  The Messenger, by the highly acclaimed author Markus Zusak, is a cryptic journey filled with laughter, fists and love.

  Scot Gardner

  The Other Madonna

  Madonna O’Dwyer is not the mother of the Messiah and she’s not a sex-powered pop diva. She’s a hardworking girl with a drama queen for a sister and a dad who sounds Irish when he’s drunk.

  The mother who blessed (or cursed) her with her name died when she was young, leaving a hole in Madonna that, at seventeen, has become as raw as a decayed tooth.

  Madonna’s friends think she can heal with her hands, but Madonna has her doubts. Her hands make pizzas and wash dishes. Her hands caress the boy and smash down the door. Her hands strangle demons from her past and pray for a spirited future.

  The hands of Madonna.

  The other Madonna.

  A humorous new novel about piercing, pizzas and the healing power of love from the highly-acclaimed author of One Dead Seagull, White Ute Dreaming and Burning Eddy.

  Charlotte Calder

  Cupid Painted Blind

  The course of true love never did run smoothly.

  If people have been stuffing up love since Shakespeare’s time, what hope does Seph—or sefi_15 when she’s online—have with Tom? Look at her parents: they barely speak to each other since Nick moved out, and could her mum really have a ‘thing’ for their balding (not to mention married) neighbour? Even Seph’s best friend Pia—boy magnet—is having problems. The forces of love, like the unbearably hot summer, seem to be beyond anyone’s control . . .

  And now a mysterious grEMLin has invaded Seph’s chat room and is about to make her life a whole lot more difficult . . .

  Praise for Charlotte Calder’s first novel, Settling Storms:

  ‘A beautifully assured, engaging first novel . . . delightful and absorbing’

  AGNES NIEUWENHUIZEN

  ‘Well written, with an entertaining plot and a mystery . . . describes the heat, the humidity and the storms of tropical Australia in the wet season with authenticity and feeling’

  VIEWPOINT

  ‘sure to be a winner’

  LOLLIPOPS