“‘DEATH TO THE RUNT’, maybe,” Liam mumbled. “Or ‘BLOODLUST’.”
Dad frowned. “Original material? That’s risky. You’d be much better off with a cover version. I’ve always said you can’t go wrong with a bit of ‘JAILHOUSE ROCK’.”
Even Mum couldn’t mask a tiny heartfelt groan. Sniggering, I pictured Liam and his mates as a bunch of white-suited Elvis lookalikes. As though he could read my mind, he threw me a filthy look. “At least I’ve got enough talent to enter. All you’re good at is showing yourself up.”
“That’s enough, Liam,” Mum snapped. “Cassie has every right to enter the contest if she wants to.” Her anxious gaze rested on me. “You’re not planning on tap dancing, are you?”
I assume this was a below-the-belt reference to my short career at Twinkle Toes Tap School two summers ago, where it quickly became apparent that I had more left feet than I knew what to do with. Summoning up a mysterious smile, I waved a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to be dancing.” Dad opened his mouth to speak but I was too quick for him. “And no, Dad, it doesn’t involve Elvis.”
Whatever I decide to do, it has to have the WOW FACTOR or Nathan will never notice me. I wonder if you can learn the trapeze from the internet?
Chapter Six
Another week, another MONDAY, but this one is looking anything but good – Mum and Dad have been called into an early morning meeting with the head of Year Seven and I have to go too. I guess it is to talk about my abysmal test results. Blimey, how bad can they be? Maybe I am beyond the reach of normal school and need really serious help.
Mr Archer seemed a bit more FLUSTERED than usual as he ushered us into his tiny office, although that may have been because Mum nearly knocked him over with her baby bump. He grabbed at the desk and made a rubbish joke about assault by future pupils. I didn’t smile. Would you, if you were about to be kicked out of school for being too stupid?
“Thanks for agreeing to come in and see me,” Mr Archer said, sounding a bit on the cheerful side for someone who was about to chuck my entire future into a supermassive black hole. He nodded at my mum. “I appreciate it can’t be easy in your – uh – condition.”
Mum’s face darkened the way it does when anyone hints that being pregnant is some kind of illness. Any minute now she’d launch into her “SACRED VESSEL” speech and my education would be over for sure. Luckily, Dad saw her expression too and got in first.
“Is Cassie in some kind of trouble?” he asked Mr Archer. I pinned my gaze to the ground. Both of my parents had asked if I knew what the meeting was about and I’d played dumb – something that I couldn’t help noticing came all too easily to me. Now there was no escaping the moment of truth; they were about to discover that one of their children was an academic dud and it wasn’t the one they might have suspected. Was it too much to hope for a MERCIFUL LIGHTNING STRIKE before Mr Archer frog-marched me off the premises and my humiliation became complete?
The teacher’s greying eyebrows shot up at my dad’s question. “Goodness me, no, quite the opposite. Cassidy here has taken us all by surprise. In fact, we think she might be one of the BRIGHTEST STUDENTS we’ve ever had.”
I stared at him, wondering if I’d heard right. Me, bright? What in the name of LOLLIPOPS had given him that idea?
Dad was clearly wondering the same thing. He eyed me in some confusion and cleared his throat. “Really? What – uh – makes you say that?”
Mr Archer perched a pair of glasses on his nose and lifted a sheet of paper from his desk. “As you may know, we test all of our Year Seven students when they start with us, to get an idea of how they might perform. The tests are called CATS, or COGNITIVE ABILITY TESTS.”
Which went a long way towards explaining the complete lack of moggy-related questions on the test, I now realized. He looked over the top of his specs. “Cassidy scored the highest mark we’ve ever seen at St Jude’s. She’s clearly a very special girl.”
Mum threw Dad an amazed look, before leaning awkwardly towards me and planting a big kiss on my cheek. Dad seemed to be struggling to understand what he was hearing. But no one was more surprised than me to learn I was some kind of UNDISCOVERED GENIUS. Maybe I hadn’t been guessing those answers at all; when I thought I’d been randomly picking A, B, C or D, my subconscious must have been guiding me towards the right answers without me even realizing it. Cor, who’d have thought?
“So you’re not kicking me out, then?” I asked, feeling I ought to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood what was being said.
“Of course not,” Mr Archer said. “We’ve got high hopes for you, Cassidy. I think you are capable of great things.”
Wow. I’d never been anything more than average at school before. I stared at the sheet of paper in Mr Archer’s hand. It definitely had my name at the top. Maybe all those SUPER-BRAINFOOD FISH FINGERS were paying off after all.
“Wowzers,” I replied faintly and then decided that it probably wasn’t the kind of word someone with my IQ should use. What might a genius say when they found out they were the cleverest kid in school? Something highbrow and ultra witty, no doubt. “SUPER –” I began, before the part of my brain which had done such an excellent job of hiding my genius kicked in – “CALIFRAGALISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS!”
I saw Mr Archer’s eyes slide to my test results once again and a slight frown creased his forehead. Then he seemed to give his head a brisk shake and stood up, in a way that made it clear that the meeting was over. “Er…quite. Well said.”
As he showed us out of his office, he waffled on about putting me forward for the Gifted and Talented programme and I kind of tuned out. Us GENIUSESES…GENI-EYE…clever people cannot be expected to pay constant attention and I was too busy working out what difference my new brains were going to make in my everyday life to care about the boring stuff. I mean obviously, I’d be able to work out the square root of numbers like eighty-one without even trying (it’s nine – see? SEE?) but there’d be other side-effects, too. Liam was in for a shock, that was for sure; he’d always claimed I was a few power-chords short of an anthem in the past. Molly and Shenice would be just as gobsmacked as me, although at least it meant I wouldn’t be on my own in lessons now.
“Well done, Cassie,” Dad said and I realized he was thinking about ruffling my hair. I dodged out of the way, right into the path of Mum.
“I think this calls for a celebratory tea tonight,” she said, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “I’m sure Liam won’t mind missing band practice just this once.”
And there it was; the proof that BABY BRAIN is a bona fide medical condition. Because if Mum thought Liam would willingly give up a WOLF BRETHREN rehearsal with the talent contest looming, then she hadn’t just lost the plot, she’d misplaced the entire book. He was going to strop on an epic scale, especially when he found out what, exactly, we were celebrating. I grinned in anticipation and resisted the urge to rub my hands together in an evil-genius style. Being declared a BRAINBOX wasn’t half bad so far. And there was another upside to being outed as the smartest girl in school; Nathan Crossfield was about to find out who I was, big time.
Don’t tell anyone I said this, but sometimes it’s not so terrible being me.
Chapter Seven
I never thought I’d say this but Molly is beginning to get on my nerves. Thursday is normally the day she has her singing lesson but she ditched it to invite herself round to my house after school, for the THIRD TIME this week. She said it was to work on our English assignment together but she spends so much time staring at the big family photo we had taken last year that I’d be AMAZED if she gets anything done. And it makes me feel a bit awkward too, because when it’s just me and Molly, it feels like we’re leaving Shenice out. I know I’d hate it if I found out they’d been doing stuff without me, even if it was just homework. I’ve decided that if Molly suggests coming over again tomorrow, I’m totally inviting Shen.
Anyway, it became obvious why Molly was really interested in hanging out at my
house and it wasn’t anything to do with my HILARIOUS HAMSTER IMPRESSION. As soon as Liam sauntered through the front door, her attitude changed. Honestly, it was like I’d suddenly ceased to exist. She pretended to be concentrating on her work but I could see her watching him from underneath her curls. He passed us without speaking, presumably on his way to the fridge, and from the look on her face, I guessed she was torn between PLAYING IT COOL and wanting to speak. She bottled it, though, and he went into the kitchen without so much as a grunt our way. Rolo, who’d been rolling around attacking my socks, jumped up and lolloped after him.
Molly fixed the kitchen door with the kind of intense, slightly cross-eyed stare the dog uses on his food bowl at teatime. I resisted the urge to smack her one with my ruler, although a good hard blow to the head may be just what she needs to get this ridiculous crush out of her system. Instead, I pretended I hadn’t noticed she looked like she was about to WET HER PANTS. Anyway, whatever she did to psych herself up must have worked because when he came back from the kitchen (carrying a plate laden with two Crunchies, a family-sized packet of crisps and the last Cheese String – Mum was going to flip when she realized all her pregnancy essentials were gone), she grabbed her opportunity. “Hi, Liam.”
Her voice was raspy and slightly American-sounding. I’m sure she intended to be ALLURING but she sounded like she had TONSILITIS.
Liam looked up and noticed us for the first time. “Hey, if it isn’t my number-one fan. How are you, Milly?”
She went red and I waited for her to indignantly point out that he’d got her name wrong. It didn’t happen. Instead, she fanned her cheeks and smiled so hard that I swear her dimples got dimples. “I’m good. How are you? Everything cool with the band?”
I couldn’t believe it – this was Molly, who’d once had a hissy fit when a girl in our class had spelled her name with an “ie” at the end in her Christmas card. Was she really going to let Liam, who had technically known her for about seven years, get away with calling her by completely the wrong name? Apparently she was.
Oblivious, Liam winked at her. “Believe. We can count on your vote in ST JUDE’S HAS GOT TALENT, right?”
Molly blushed. Again. Then she actually giggled. “It’s all yours. WOLF BRETHREN ROCK!”
I couldn’t help myself; I made a retching noise and pretended to throw up down the back of the sofa. Molly fired an accusing glare at me. I glared right back. I mean, I’m all for backing up my besties and everything but it’s BECAUSE She’s my BFF that I have to stop her from making an idiot of herself. Seriously, what does she see in Liam? And does she really think WOLF BRETHREN – ahem – ROCK? I know they reckon love is blind but this case it must be deaf as well. Me and Shenice are going to have to do something about this. I’m not sure what but it’s our duty as BFFs to save her from herself. She’ll thank us one day.
Liam ignored me and cocked his fingers at Molly. “Spread the word. And remember, the wolves are on the prowl.”
He let out a low growl, which might not have seemed quite so dorky if the plate in his hand hadn’t wobbled, causing the growl to become a yelp. He grabbed at the snacks before they fell on the floor. I laughed, earning myself a furious scowl from both directions.
“Those NEW SHOES you got a few weeks ago – they were black with red bits, weren’t they?” Liam asked, once he’d regained control of his munchables.
I nodded, curiosity worming through me. It wasn’t like Liam to notice anything about me, least of my shoes. “Yeah. Why?”
He started to climb the stairs, a strange smile on his face. “No reason.”
Frowning, I tried to work out what his point was. He couldn’t really be interested in my footwear so what was he getting at? My gaze slid down to the rug, where I’d kicked my shoes off earlier. Instead of two shiny ballet pumps, there was only one.
“What have you done with it?” I squeaked, even though I knew it couldn’t have been him.
He carried on up the stairs and disappeared from view. “I haven’t done anything with it,” his voice floated down. “But you might want to check out what Rolo is chewing in the garden.”
Groaning, I jumped to my feet and ran for the back door. Why is it always my stuff Rolo trashes? Liam’s room is like an ALADDIN’S CAVE of half-eaten toast crusts and wax-encrusted hairbrushes; why can’t Rolo unleash his destructive tendencies on those? Mum would go nutso if he destroyed another pair of my shoes and I knew the fact that Liam hadn’t done a thing to stop him wouldn’t make any difference. I’D still be dead meat.
“Don’t just sit there – come and help me!” I yelled at Molly.
To my mild shock, she leaped up and followed me straight out. I half expected her to go chasing up the stairs – maybe she wasn’t totally Team Liam after all. But even with her help, it still took an exhausting twenty-five minutes to catch Rolo. He thinks it is the GREATEST GAME EVER to let someone get within touching distance of his brown fur and then race off to another part of the garden, his tongue lolloping out like he is CRACKING UP. I thought dogs were supposed to be man’s best friend but they don’t behave like any best friend I’ve ever had – I’d be pretty annoyed if Molly or Shenice ate my shoes and threw up on my bed all the time. I am going to make him watch 101 DALMATIONS on loop until he learns how proper dogs behave.
To top it all, when we finally caught him he didn’t even have my shoe – I found it under the sofa later. Glaring up at the house, I saw Liam watching from his bedroom window. He did this mocking slow handclap thing. I threw Molly a SEE-WHAT-I-HAVE-TO-PUT-UP-WITH look but she pretended not to notice, which stung a little bit. So she STILL thought Liam was the WORLD’S BEST BROTHER, did she? If this little episode didn’t show her what he was really like, nothing would. She was beyond help.
Oh. Em. Gee. Breathe. And breathe again. You will not BELIEVE what happened today. I’m not really sure I do and I was there. Nathan Crossfield knows I EXIST. He knows my name. And he actually spoke to me!
Mr Bearman asked me to stay behind after English and asked if I would consider joining the Year Seven quiz team. Nathan was on his way out of the class and Mr Bearman called him back to introduce us.
“Cassidy, meet Nathan, the captain of our team,” Mr Bearman said. “Nathan, this is Cassie. Fingers crossed she’ll be the fourth cog in our machine.”
Nathan smiled and I felt my knees wobble a bit. “Hi, Cassie, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said warmly. “I hope you’re up for joining us – Royal Windsor Prep School reckon they’ve got it in the bag and I’d love to prove them wrong.”
EEK, who had been talking about me and what had he heard? Then the realization dawned on me; he meant he’d heard about my CAT score. He couldn’t know that I’d never been much good at quizzes, or that breezing my way through some school tests didn’t change anything. What if I fluffed a crucial quiz question and embarrassed myself in front of everyone? But Nathan was studying me with his smoky blue eyes and I reminded myself that this was the perfect way for me to get to know him. Besides, wasn’t I thinking about performing in a talent contest, without the slightest hint of an actual talent? That ranked much higher on the SHAME-O-METER. Maybe being clever was the thing I was good at and this was my chance to make sure everybody knew it. True, I’d have to brush up on my general knowledge but at least I could stop trying to recall the lost art of hula-hooping. If all else failed, I’d have to fall back on my wit and stun Nathan with hilarity. Hmmm. Perhaps I shouldn’t put the hula hoop away just yet.
“So how about it, Cassie?” Nathan went on and I realized I was gawping at him like I was a few stars short of a galaxy. “Are you in?”
Oh, who was I kidding? He’d had me at “Hi, Cassie”. I nodded. “Yeah, why not?”
He smiled then and I knew I’d made the right choice. So what if I had to read a few Wiki pages and learn the capital of Kazakhstan? I’d be hanging out with the coolest boy in our year. Seriously, what could possibly go wrong?
Chapter Eight
Talking to
my mother at the moment is like trying to negotiate a stretch of ground strewn with landmines. Seriously, she is pricklier than PRICKLY THE HEDGEHOG sitting on a thistle patch. It’s October now and if she is going to be like this until Christmas then I may need to leave home – I cannot take another two months of her moods. After Sunday lunch, I made the mistake of asking if I could get blonde highlights – you would think I had asked for diamond-tipped extensions the way she went on.
“Do you have any idea how much they cost?” she ranted, after what felt like a lifetime of lip pursing and huffing. “Even if you were old enough, which you’re not, there’s the maintenance to consider. The roots need to be done every six weeks. Honestly, I don’t know what’s got into you lately. You know money is tight at the moment.”
I am beginning to think that the twins are forcing us below the poverty line. If she didn’t insist on buying every baby product on the market then maybe we wouldn’t be flat broke. I mean, how many SLEEPSUITS can two little people need? I reckon we’ll have enough stuff to open our own branch of Mothercare soon. I opened my mouth to suggest that she considered the needs of her other children once in a while but the words died in my throat. Who needs hairdressers, anyway? I thought, as I stamped up the stairs to my bedroom. It’s Molly’s turn to have a sleepover this Friday, I’ll just buy a highlighter kit on the way home from school and get them to apply it. My mother cannot complain that I’m costing too much then, can she?
School is a completely different place now that I am a SOMEBODY. All the teachers seem to know my name, even the ones who don’t teach me. And being on speaking terms with Nathan seems to have made the rest of my year view me with a bit more respect, although not all of them are impressed with my quiz team status. I caught Imani Willis giving me a STINKY-EYED STARE in English this morning when Nathan stopped to remind me about the first meeting of the quiz team next week. Shenice says it’s because she fancies him and sees me as a threat. I’m not sure about that because Imani is gorgeous and could easily pass for fourteen. Maybe once the girls have turned me from MOUSE to SUN-KISSED BLONDE tonight, I will feel differently.
Completely Cassidy – Accidental Genius (Completely Cassidy #1) Page 3