‘What are you looking at?’ She throws a cushion at him.
He throws the cushion back at her and stomps from the room.
‘Alex,’ calls Ida, ‘it’s your favourite show.’
They hear his bedroom door bang.
‘What’s with him?’ Cassie slumps back in the chair.
‘Touchy subject,’ Ida says.
‘What, the Bible?’
‘No, prediction,’ Ida replies. ‘Change the channel. I can’t stand this show.’
‘I don’t see what his problem is,’ Cassie says, standing up and walking towards the TV. ‘He’s got it easy.’
‘Easy?’ Ida asks.
‘He looks at the sky, he says it’s not going to rain, the frost is coming. Everyone goes, Ahh, isn’t Alex amazing? Let’s get chickens and Bob’s your uncle.’
‘I had an Uncle Bob,’ Ida says.
Cassie sighs. ‘I’ve got homework to do.’
‘Yes dear, turn up the TV on the way past, and pass me my blanket.’
Hiding behind the woodpile, Cassie blows smoke into the sky and observes it wander into the world. The stars bloom like a million possibilities. The black holes, the spaces between the stars, are like the space left by knowing she and Paulo will never be. That they could have been. That she read cards to say they would be, but she changed what would be. It could be notched up there with saving Poppy’s life as a successful change of the future. Proof that fate can be changed. With the right tools. Still, there are holes between the stars and holes within her. Empty spaces between her bones, under her skin, in her blood-filled veins. She scratches her skin.
She blows another cloud of smoke towards the horizon and carefully kills the end of the joint for later. It is not hard to stop at only half. Her body remembers the taste and smell and the sickness of before. The darkness prickles her shoulders. She heads back to the house.
In her bedroom, a new thing, a set of ten fingers prising open the crack between the walls. The fingers bloody with the effort cause her heart to thud like a drum. Then she realises, they belong to one of the Sisters—one of the Sisters of Fate, probably the middle one, measuring her lot in life. The Sister wants to watch her. Never mind. She tries to calm the thud. The Sister should be allowed to watch. She makes sure her dream notebook, a pen and a torch are in easy reach. Her bed sheets are cold and she pulls her knees up to her chest. The fingers push the wall further apart and it creaks. She shivers and closes her eyes. Sleep will come.
Sleep takes a long time to come. It seems the drug makes her mind race too fast for sleep. Randomly she watches trees grow and bloom, Paulo age and die, mountains break open, Athena standing in front of crowds selling her mind. The fingers tap on the wall, impatient for her to dream. Each image flashes and disappears, and another steps in. Eventually she skims across the surface of slumber and dreams.
There is an open door. It is an extra door in their house that was never there before. If she steps through the door, everything will change forever. If she steps through the door, it will never close behind her and all that is bad and evil will pass in either direction. Her mother is telling her not to go through it. It is too dangerous. She thinks her mother is lying, but she doesn’t know how she can know that. She can’t read minds. The door is starting to close. If she does not go through it soon, it will be too late. The door will close and disappear. She will tell people there was a door there, but no one will believe her. They will say she made it up. She will say why would I make it up and it would be like Natalie and her broken arm. As though she would want anyone hurt.
She begins to walk to the door. She can see through it to another room. Her mother pulls at her clothes. Don’t go, don’t go. It is only bad things through the door. It is better if you just stay put. Her mother is on her knees, pulling the hem of Cassie’s skirt. Cassie is using all the muscles in her legs to walk, dragging her mother behind her. Her mother is sobbing and begging. Why don’t you listen, why do you never listen to me, Cassandra? I know what you should do. I am your mother.
Cassie steps through the door. Her mother no longer pulls at her skirt. Her mother sits in the armchair in front of her. She laughs. I told you so, she says. Her mouth seems bigger than usual. Wetter. Her blouse is missing some buttons and a black bra peeks through the gap. A man sits on the arm of the chair, his beard red with flames. It’s all right, he says. Athena knows all about it.
She wakes. Pins strip the skin from her body. Her heart beats like a shredder. She turns and rummages for her torch. Her eyes bleary, she blinks, and blinks, the page blobby before her, her fingers with only a weak grasp of the pen, she writes with slow large swirls. She ends with the words: Athena knows what?
~ 26 ~
Outcast
Cassie takes Athena’s advice and decides to go to school straight. She draws a card to predict the day. The Tower—tall, narrow and aflame, surrounded by lightning, the crowned figures falling headfirst to the ground.
Her friends sprawl in their usual sunny spot beside the science lab. Paulo, too, sits on the ground, lounging against the brick wall, his long skinny legs everywhere. The rumble of distant thunder follows her as she walks over the dewy grass.
Natalie, leaning on the brick wall, sees Cassie, and turns and whispers to Mitch. So they are back together already. Did she see that in her cards?
‘Hello.’ Cassie shrugs when she reaches them. Lisa smiles a small smile and she hears Budgie say under his breath, ‘Slut.’
Lightning flashes and the Tower stands before her—just for a second—illuminated by the electric bolt.
Cassie bites the inside of her lip. ‘Good party,’ she says to Natalie.
Paulo spits on the ground between his knees, the mucus thick and green.
‘How’s Bazza?’ Natalie says.
‘Bazza?’ Cassie glances at Paulo, who glares at the ground. A clap of thunder shakes the ground. Cassie jumps. The rest don’t seem to hear it. It is not real, she realises. ‘I don’t know, gone back to Grammar, I suppose.’
Natalie crosses her arms over her chest and leans on the pole. ‘Right.’
Mitch rests his chin on Natalie’s shoulder and peers at Cassie.
‘I have something for you,’ Cassie says, reaching into her pocket. ‘I … had a vision.’
Natalie laughs and lightning spews from her mouth. ‘Not that fortune-telling shit again. You know no one believes that crap.’
Lisa shakes her head at Cassie, the shake a small warning clap of thunder.
‘I wrote it down, if you want it …’ She holds the envelope towards Natalie. ‘It might be good for a laugh.’ She drags the words out of her throat.
‘Piss off, bitch.’ Natalie steps forward, her chin raised. A jagged arrow of lightning cleaves the crown from the Tower.
Cassie steps back, stumbles. ‘Okay,’ she says and turns. She staggers back across the grass. The wind rushes past her ears. She has fallen. Head first from the destroyed Tower.
That afternoon Cassie sits in her room with Athena. ‘The rumour, apparently,’ Cassie makes her voice sound thick with sarcasm, a layer to hide her hurt, ‘is that I was with Paulo, then I went off with Bazza as well. They are saying I screwed Bazza. What pisses me off the most is Natalie was all over Bazza and Tony. I bet Mitch doesn’t know about that. And Tony is Mitch’s brother. Keep it in the family and all. I’d love to tell Mitch. I think I will tell Mitch. I’ll write to him and tell him all about his precious Natalie.’ Cassie riffles around her desk looking for some paper.
Athena grabs her arm and pulls her back onto the bed. ‘It fits, don’t you think. With your vision?’
‘What?’
‘Of Natalie being some hot-shot rich bitch.’ Athena seems too excited.
‘It has been the worst day of my life,’ Cassie says, ‘and all you can think of is your dumb experiment.’
Athena
rubs her hands over her forehead. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this. You’re really hurt?’
‘Hurt! Hurt is an understatement. They are meant to be my friends. They were there when Aunty Ida fell. Every time Natalie and Mitch had some stupid fight I sat and listened and did the good friend thing. And Lisa, don’t get me started on sweet little Lisa.’
‘She’s not so sweet?’
‘The thing is: I can tell she wants to talk to me. If the others weren’t looking she would be all, “are you all right?” and “don’t worry about it”, but she cares so much about what the others think she’s too scared to say what she really thinks.’
‘And you don’t care what they think?’
‘The dumbest thing about it all is I do like Paulo. I could have been with Paulo at the party. I should have been with Paulo and then none of this would have ever happened. But I wasn’t.’
‘You had a vision that he betrayed you.’
‘And he did.’ Cassie eyes sting.
‘He did?’
‘He told them …’ Cassie pulls in a deep breath and squeezes her eyes tight. She stands up and shuffles the things on her dresser.
‘He told them what?’ Athena asks.
Cassie controls her breathing. ‘He said …’ Her voice wobbles and the tears escape. ‘He said he did things to me that he didn’t. He said I let him …’ She can’t get any more words out.
Athena materialises behind her and touches her shoulder. ‘You don’t have to tell me the details. I get the picture. He’s a prick and you had a lucky escape.’
‘But he’s so cute.’ Cassie giggles through the tears. She looks up at her reflection. Athena is in the frame too. She is not looking in the mirror or at Cassie but vacantly at something on the ceiling. Cassie pushes her hand off her shoulder and sits back on the bed.
‘I think I smell that cake your mum and I baked. Do you want to come out and see if it’s ready?’ Athena says.
‘I don’t want to go out there,’ Cassie says. ‘My mum might see I’m upset.’
‘Shouldn’t you tell her?’
Cassie looks at Athena and squints. ‘You’re joking, right?’
Athena shrugs.
‘What did you tell Mum anyway?’ Cassie asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘About why you weren’t at school today.’
‘Oh, she knows about the home schooling situation.’
Cassie sits up straight. ‘Since when?’
‘A couple of weeks ago.’ Athena straightens the bottles of perfume on the dresser. ‘Do you ever dust in here?’
‘You never told me.’
‘Didn’t I? I thought I did.’ Athena shoves her hands deep into her pockets and squeezes her shoulders together. ‘Father said she could teach me to cook and sew, like a home economics subject.’
‘I definitely would have remembered that,’ Cassie says.
‘Probably I forgot to tell you.’
‘How?’ Cassie asks.
‘We’re starting with baking. I look up the science of how the ingredients work together. Did you know eggs can act as an emulsifier …’
‘No,’ Cassie thumps the bed, ‘how did you forget to tell me?’
‘I don’t know.’ Athena looks at her feet. ‘I’m sorry. I just forgot. Or maybe I did tell you. You have been a bit vague lately.’
Cassie sighs and rolls back onto her pillow. She massages her temples.
‘Headache?’ Athena whispers.
Cassie buries her face in her pillow. Athena leaves, closing the door quietly behind her.
* * *
The stallion stands, masterful, on the hill above their house. It snorts and hot air and wetness blows from its nostrils. It stamps its front hoof on the ground and dust clouds over its chest. She knows she has to stop it from running down the hill. She wants to run to the horse, but her feet will not move. Her heart thumps in her chest. The horse raises its head to the clouds and neighs and the hill shakes beneath Cassie’s feet. She tries to move her mouth, to yell to the horse, to distract it, but her mouth will not open, her throat will not let the sound escape. The horse, black like coal, lifts its front legs and thumps them back on the ground. The trees around Cassie creak and sway. She needs to be somewhere safe. She looks down the hill to her house. She has to get home. The horse runs past her in a gush of hot air. The horse runs so fast, the air gathers around him and he pulls it with him and that is why the trees bend and Cassie runs but it is suddenly dark, everything looks different and she can’t tell which way to go. The ground moves up and she finds she is on a hill. She spins, searching for familiarity, to get her bearings. The hill is bare. No grass. No trees. Dirt. The horse and its storm have destroyed everything. She recognises the driveway to their house, and the road in front of their house, and she realises she is standing where her house should be. She calls. Mum, Dad, Ida, Poppy … Alex. Her throat rips with pain. Then, in the sky. She sees them, caught in a whirlwind. She runs after the whirlwind and she sees each of her family being spat out, one at a time, all landing somewhere different. They weren’t even together, she realises. And that seems like the worst part.
* * *
Cassie refuses to get out of bed Thursday and Friday. She feigns illness with groans and floppiness. She gets out of bed only when she needs the toilet. Occasionally, the fingers work to open the wall so the Sisters can watch her. But she bores the Sisters with her inactivity. She leaves the food her mother brings her untouched. The thought of eating makes her throat thick and blocked, as though food could never pass down it again. On Friday afternoon, when she can fight the urge no longer, she hides behind the woodpile and smokes the last of her second joint. The visions swirl around her, light and reassuring, the world gleams a gold and white light, the leaves greener, the sky bluer, the air sweeter. She is suddenly ravenous and eats Milo out of the can with a spoon, vegemite sandwiches thick with butter and hunks of cheese. When it ends, she is left feeling flat as though the air has been sucked out of her and she retreats to bed again. Tap tap, the fingers on the other side of the wall. The Sisters are bored again.
She hears Athena arrive late Friday afternoon. She hears her door open slowly. She keeps herself still, breathes as though she is asleep and the door closes. She smells baking. She hears laughing. Athena doesn’t come to the door again. She will have to talk to Athena eventually.
When she sleeps the black stallion thunders and bulldozes down the hill. She wakes, her skin prickling, her heart pounding. Or sometimes when she drifts to sleep, her stomach leaps with fright and she is wide awake, tossing and turning. The fingers, she decides, were never real. What made her believe they were?
On Saturday morning there is a light knock on the door and Alex comes into the room.
‘Cassie?’
She grunts.
‘Dad’s taking us all to town. Do you want to come?’
Cassie grunts again.
‘I know you’re not really sick,’ he says and leaves the room with the door wide open. Cassie has to get up to close it. The house empties and she wanders around it, bored, wishing Athena would visit, too lazy to climb the hill to see if she is home. She tries to send a message to Athena with her mind, but Athena is not listening. When everyone gets home, grinning with purchases and glossy things, no one has bought her anything and she goes back to her bedroom, telling herself the fingers are not real.
Cassie wakes Sunday morning. The horse has chewed up Ida and eaten her. He bared his bloody teeth and grinned at her. She opens her eyes. Alex sits on her desk chair. Looking at her.
‘I had a dream about you last night,’ he says.
Cassie rolls over in her bed and faces the wall.
‘You were riding a horse.’
Outside a gaggle of kookaburras laugh hysterically. She hears Alex stand.
‘And,’ Cas
sie croaks.
‘And … you fell off,’ he says.
She turns back. Alex’s face is pale and his hair stands on end like a restless night’s sleep. He picks up her tarot cards and starts to open the box.
‘Don’t touch those,’ she says.
He closes the lid but doesn’t put them down. ‘You should get up,’ he says.
‘Who invited you in here anyway?’ she says.
He puts the cards down. ‘You think it’s all a secret, but it’s not,’ he says, walking out through the door.
Cassie pulls the sheet over her head. She stays that way until the air feels as if it is running out and pulls the sheet away.
Her mother stays in the room until she has eaten her lunch. Then she forces her to get up. ‘You need some sun. You’ll feel better when you get some fresh air.’ She leads her like an invalid out of her room and onto the veranda where Poppy and Ida huddle, Ida’s wheelchair where her cane chair used to sit. Ida’s burns have healed into gnarly scars, while her body has turned quivering and weak, like a plant with too little water and too much sunshine.
‘Cassie, darling, you’re up! We’ve been missing you.’ Poppy wraps his arm around her and pulls her to him. She fits in against his shoulder, his calloused hand on her arm. She smells the Brylcreem in his meagre hair.
‘Poppy,’ she breathes. The sun charges through the railings, striping the floor with light. Poppy’s radio crackles.
‘Come on.’ Ida gestures to her with a tottering hand. Cassie kisses her powdery cheek.
‘Pull up a chair and play with us,’ Ida says. She picks up the worn cards and starts to tremble in an attempt to shuffle. ‘Five hundred?’
‘I’ll just watch.’ Cassie sits on the floor, her back against the railing.
Over the afternoon, the shadows lengthen and cool. Poppy watches her out of the corner of his eye. Ida’s hands shake as she holds her cards.
‘Gottverdammt woman,’ Poppy says, leaning over and steadying her wrists.
Cassandra Page 18