Cassandra: And they all fall down

by Julie Hodgson

  In … two … three … four … Out … two … three … four.

  She needed a plan, and she needed to try to keep things in perspective because her whole life would spin out of control if she didn’t. Braydon would expose her and avenge her, and her life would be over. No, she needed to take control of things, and the first thing she needed to do was see him, make sure it really was him. There was still a chance that it could be a guy with the same name. There was a good chance of this; if he was starting a new school at sixteen, then he could have come from anywhere in the country, anywhere in the world. She had once Googled her own name to see how many Cassandra Joneses there were in the world and had seen pages and pages of young and old namesakes. If there were loads of her, there was a good chance that loads of Braydon Taylors existed. She had to get a look at him, find out for sure. She hadn’t seen him on the way out of the classroom, but walking back in would give her the perfect opportunity. She would then, she decided, take it from there.

  She stood up, wiped under her eyes one last time with tissue, straightened up her jeans and her favorite school top, with the neckline as low as her parents would allow, and was soon back in the hallway. She was moving slower than she had on her way to the bathroom, prolonging the moment until she would find out for certain if her life was over, and then she was outside the classroom door. She reached out to the handle, took a deep breath, made herself as tall as possible, and then strolled confidently back in.

  “About time, Cassandra. I think I’m gonna have you back in to go over today’s class,” Mac told her as she made her way back to her desk, but she wasn’t listening. He was always issuing elective detentions like this and nobody really took them seriously because he was too cool for actual punishment. Besides, his words were now deep and long, his movement slow and labored. Time was bending itself around this life-changing moment, and every step Cassandra took was underwater and on the moon so that it took forever for her to retake her seat. All the while she focused on Braydon Taylor’s seat. His head was now turned towards the wall of windows, away from her, so she had the same view once again, of his short almost curls on his head.

  Look this way! Here! No, to me! She silently willed him, but his head stubbornly refused to turn. And then it did, and she finally got the full view of his face. He was looking straight ahead, not at her, but to where Mac made his notes up on the board. He was oblivious to her examination, but she got all she needed to know in those heavy, drawn-out seconds. She retook her seat and buried her head once again in Twelfth Night, which could now have been written in Cantonese for all she understood of it. She spent the rest of the period in the same daze until the bell finally rang and people around her began to gather their books and make for their next classes. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to move. Her whole life had changed in a single moment. It was over. It was him. The little boy she had hospitalized when she was six years old was now her classmate. Things would never be the same again.

  She wanted to be on her own at recess. She wanted to process that face. She wanted to regroup properly, come up with a plan of action, but her friend Leo had other ideas.

  “Hey hey hey!” he said, and dropped himself beside her, although she had found the quietest corner she could have imagined, sitting at the edge of the parking lot, where she thought no one would think to find her.

  “Hey, Leo,” she said, trying to hide the glum from her voice, but she needn’t have bothered; Leo was not the perceptive kind.

  “Did you see him?” he asked, almost bouncing beside her.

  “Who?” She turned sharply. Jesus, had it got around already.

  “Braydon Taylor,” he answered, and now she didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. “Ceee-uuuute! Three new guys this week and all of them ceee-uuuute. Do you think they all came from the same school? Hotty High.” He let out a joyous burst of laughter. “Can you imagine it? That’s where I should go. Heavenly Hotty High.” He let his eyes mist over in front of him as he imagined it and Cassandra remained quiet. She would ordinarily have laughed and joined in, but hearing Braydon Taylor’s name from someone else’s lips had done something unpleasant to her insides, and she was struggling with words again. Leo wasn’t easily deterred, though.

  “I bet he’d be up for it, too,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking; I always say that, but do you know what’s the new black this season, Cass?”

  Cassandra shook her head vaguely.

  “Me. I’m the new black. And Braydon Taylor is gonna wanna drape me all over him.”

  “What about Thomas?” she asked half-heartedly, and Leo just shrugged.

  “Thomas Shmomas!” he added.

  Thomas was the most recent in a long line of boyfriends to whom Leo was incapable of remaining faithful, so the answer wasn’t too much of a surprise.

  Leo continued his happy spiel without any further encouragement from Cassandra, although she occasionally nodded and smiled to show she was still present, if not listening. He shifted from cute guys to the suit he was wearing for Abby’s party to the pictures of the sundaes online and how he was going over to iCandy after school that evening with Thomas and some other kids from school, and she should come along, and all the while Cassandra thought about that face. He had changed very little in ten years. Of course, he looked like a sixteen-year-old, but his features were still very boyish. Those features were completely still as they read Mac’s writing and she could get no sense of how they would move now. When he was tiny, all she could see was the ugliness – the screaming, name calling, kicking out, sneering, smiling at the damage he had caused. She could see all of that as he read off the board although he remained still. Her own memory painted him by numbers and animated him into a taller version of the child who had hurt so many other children. And what would he see when he saw her? She wondered. Had he already seen her? Did he know she would be there before he moved schools? How had this been allowed to happen? Something had gone very wrong.

  Leo was still talking. “… so, I said, maybe you can get away with that shit in Germany or wherever the hell it is you come from, but around here we prefer to …”

  Cassandra only became aware that he was still talking when he stopped suddenly, and she felt his body shuffle a little closer to hers and wriggle even more excitedly.

  “Shit … try and act normal,” he said, and then he immersed himself into another conversation with her that made very little sense and broke into laughter. “Laugh then,” he told her from the corner of his mouth, and Cassandra could see what was happening. Braydon Taylor was walking straight towards them. “Laugh!” Leo urged her again, and she raised a little smile, but her insides were mush. He was looking straight at her and marching over with sheer determination. Very soon, he was just a few feet away from where they were sitting, casting his shadow over them, while Leo was still talking to Cassandra, trying not to show that he had noticed him while putting his most dynamic and handsome self on display. Before Cassandra or Braydon could speak, Leo turned to the new guy as if he had just noticed him.

  “Hello, I didn’t see you there. You must be–”

  “Braydon,” he said, and Cassandra was surprised but not fooled by the kindness in his voice.

  “Braydon … it’s an unusual name. Where have you come from?”

  “Not far. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but do you mind if I have a word in private.”

  “Of course,” Leo beamed. “Make yourself scarce, Cass.” His exuberance heightened.

  “With Cassandra.”

  Leo turned to look at his friend and then back at Braydon, and saw for the first time that they hadn’t taken their eyes off each other. His jaw suddenly stiffened. He made a poor show of hiding his disappointment before throwing his bag over his shoulder and walking away.

  Braydon lowered himself beside Cassandra but seemed hesitant to start the conversation. For once, Cassandra was absolutely speechless. She had no idea what he might want to say to her. She desperately wan
ted to scratch at her hands, but she knew how weird it looked. All she could do was wait and see what he had to say, what her fate would be.

  I’ve been searching for you for the last ten years, you evil bitch, she imagined him saying. I’ve put every ounce of energy I’ve ever had into devising a way to hurt you as much as you hurt me. I have dreamt and daydreamed about it. I want to ruin your life as you ruined mine. I’m going to make you pay, and then I’m going to tell all your new friends just what you’re really like.

  “It must be a shock for you to see me,” he said. His voice was still soft, and each word was carefully chosen, a contrast to her previous conversation with Leo. Cassandra turned, and their eyes met again. “I didn’t know you would be here,” he added, and then neither of them said a word. Cassandra tried to assemble something to say, but she had nothing. Eventually, he spoke again. “I want you to know that I … I’m not the same little boy that you knew all those years ago. I know it doesn’t mean much now, but there were things going on at home, bad things and … I guess I just couldn’t cope. It’s not an excuse, but it’s all I had control of, beating up on littler kids, making them feel as crappy as I felt.”

  Cassandra was aware that she still hadn’t said anything, but the words were still elusive.

  “You did me a favor I think. I got counseling after what happened, and I worked through a lot of shit. I guess I found out what it feels like to be a smaller kid when you … well, when you did what you did. I would still be that same asshole if it weren't for you, Cassandra, so I just want you to know that I don’t mean you any harm and I know you’ve built a whole new life here. I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

  Cassandra opened her mouth, but the adrenalin was making her throb and echo. She had no idea what to feel or say.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Braydon added, and with every word he spoke, there were fewer traces of the ugliness that she had seen when they were children. Leo was right; he had grown into a handsome young man, but she forced herself to stop thinking this. He stood up and smiled comfortingly. “I’ll see you around,” he added and then left her all alone.

  Chapter Four

  Cassandra and Bindi lived just a few doors down from each other, which had cemented their friendship from the moment Cassandra and her family moved to the small town. Her colorfully dressed parents had knocked on the door with a vegetarian lasagna just hours after the removal truck had pulled away from the house and as the adults enjoyed introductions over a glass of wine, the tiny girls were sent outside to play together. Bindi had brought over a tea set and enough stuffed animals for them to have their own party in the back yard, which made her an instant hit because it would be days before Cassandra got to unpack any of her own toys. And she let her keep them for a while after she left, even though she was only six years old. This kind of generosity summed Bindi up, and now, ten years later, she hadn’t changed a bit. As they were walking home together, which they did every single day, she was talking about a volunteering project she was about to embark upon. Cassandra knew her well enough to know that she was excited about this new project, although she spoke slowly and with restraint.

  “We can do it in homeroom and get groups around the town involved. I don’t know – coffee mornings, book groups, get the elderly involved. We’re aiming for five thousand packs and it’s so achievable. Each bag gets a stock cube, a few cloves of garlic, little bags of salt, chilli, other spices, rice …” As they passed the seven-eleven, Bindi turned to check in with her friend and could see she was staring off into the distance, too consumed by her own thoughts to pay much attention to the refugee food parcel scheme. “And we’ll put some ice-cream in them, a bit of hash, a few Justin Bieber CDs, condoms.” She turned again and smiled, but Cassandra was too lost in thought to notice the additional items. “Earth to Cassandra! Come in, Cassandra!” This finally drew some semblance of attention. “How can you walk and not fall over when you’ve obviously forgotten to bring your brain with you?”

  “I’m sorry, Bin. What were you saying?”

  Bindi looked to her friend, shielding her eyes from the sun, then looked over her shoulder and said, “Step into my office.” Cassandra watched as she snuck in behind a bush and stepped into the front yard of a random house, flung her bag on the grass, and then dropped down beside it, and encouraged Cassandra to do the same. She was a passionate campaigner for a number of causes and refused to accept that anything wild and natural could belong to a single person. So, there was no such thing as someone else’s front yard. Bindi was so definite in her views and her style that, by comparison, Cassandra would often wonder about her own sense of identity and how she fit into the world. She bought her clothes at the same stores as most other girls in her grade, wore her hair in easy styles, with very little makeup, and definitely wasn’t political. She didn’t fit neatly into a group as such, but she was just an average-sixteen-year-old, she guessed. Sporty. That was something that set her apart, but not in the way that Bindi was set apart from everyone else. And no one could touch her for it. If anyone else showed up one morning wearing a tie-dye dress, stripes of eye shadow, t-shirts with political slogans and talking like a thirty-year-old, they wouldn’t last five minutes at Garden City High. Maybe it was the confidence, or maybe everyone was just used to her. She had been a thirty-year-old activist for as long as Cassandra could remember. She had also been a loyal and perceptive friend.

  “So?” she asked and simply waited for Cassandra to fill her in on what had gotten her so strung out.

  She told her about the exchange of messages between herself and Abby the night before, but when it came to talking about Braydon she found it more difficult as if she didn’t quite have the language to articulate what she felt about him. She told Bindi who he was and what he had said, but then she struggled to say more.

  “He’s … well … he’s.”

  Bindi looked straight into her eyes, assessing what she found there, and said, “Oh my God, you’ve got the hots for him. Cass, is this a good idea? Jesus, he’s Braydon Taylor!”

  “I haven’t got the hots for him.”

  “Yeah, you do, and this is not going to end well, Cassandra.”

  “How do you know?”

  “So, you have got the hots for him?”

  Cassandra didn’t answer at first. It was all so confusing. “He’s changed so much.” She paused again, and Bindi gave her the time to think about what she wanted to say as she let a tiny spider run over and over her hands. “He has these eyes.” Cassandra idly picked at the lawn as she spoke. “He’s not like … God, it’s such a cliché, but he’s not like other guys here.”

  “You’ve got it bad, girl.”

  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Bindi thought for a moment. “I don’t think you’re crazy, but you’ve got a connection to this guy, and I know you won’t want to hear this, but it’s a violent connection.”

  “We were six years old.”

  “And it was seriously violent. Didn’t you put him in the hospital for two months?”

  “Three.”

  “What you’re feeling might not be what you think it is and …” She lowered the spider back to the lawn and watched it scurry away. “How do you know you can trust him? He might be saying that he’s over it, but … well, it’s a big deal, Cass. You don’t know anything about him.”

  “You don’t know anything about Mac, but you fancy the pants off him.”

  “That’s a little different don’t you think? He’s a teacher. I’m not expecting him to be my prom date. Stop changing the subject.”

  “You’re talking like I’m gonna marry him. I know nothing can ever happen between the two of us. Anyway, I’m not the only one.”

  “Let me guess …”

  “Leo,” they said together and broke into giggles.

  “I wish I had his confidence with guys,” Cassandra added.

  “He’s lucky he can’t get pregnant.”

  They laughed again,
and Cassandra looked less tense now. Her shoulders had relaxed, and she was resting back on her elbows on the random lawn.

  “So, what are you going to do about the race?” Bindi asked.

  Cassandra took a long, deep breath. “I wish I knew. I was feeling a little better about it after today’s drama; it’s difficult to worry about a headache if you’ve just been run over by a bus.”

  “A Braydon Taylor bus.”

  “I just don’t know now. If I lose, I’m letting the whole school down and everything I’ve worked for. If I win, I don’t get to have a sweet sixteen, even if it is squatting on Abby’s. What would you do?”