Cassie

by Barry Jonsberg

  Live dangerously, Holly Holley, she thought.

  ‘Yeah, okay.’ she said. ‘Good idea. I’ll ring her.’

  She drew the curtains again, pulled her mobile from her bag and checked it was turned it off. A phrase from a teacher in some sad old movie rang in her head. Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Holly had never seized a day in her life. She’d never even taken a firm grip on one. Now seemed a very good time to start.

  She slipped out of the dress with the ill-fitting cut.

  The top in her hand was bright and fun. She’d never have dared to even try it on if she’d been shopping by herself. And her mum, despite her hair and tattoo, would have hated it. Holly could see her mouth turning down in disapproval. So she smiled, pulled the top on and slipped into the skirt. A different girl looked back from the mirror. She opened the curtains, stepped out and twirled.

  ‘What do you think?’ she said.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Demi.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Kari.

  ‘Absolutely perfect,’ said Georgia.

  ‘I’m meeting Holly Holley,’ said Fern. ‘I can’t keep her waiting.’

  ‘It’ll only take ten minutes,’ said Greg. ‘Just to show you the equipment and how to access the software on the laptop. There’s still five minutes before the bell goes. We can put a message over the PA, to ask Holly to wait in reception.’

  It did take only ten minutes. Cassie was where Greg had left her in the computer room. She was working on the hearts again. Her mum sat next to her, just as the last heart popped.

  ‘Twelve minutes, forty-four seconds, Cass,’ said Greg. ‘Well done. That’s nearly two minutes better than your previous best. But it’s time to call it a day. I’m just going to show your mum how to set up the laptop, so you can practise at home.’

  He crouched beside her and fixed her with a gaze. ‘But no overdoing it, okay?’

  And when he stood, his knees made no sound. Greg didn’t notice. But Cassie did. She smiled.

  Holly wasn’t at reception. Greg checked with the school secretary that the message had gone out.

  ‘Maybe she’s with a teacher,’ said Greg. ‘I’m sure she’ll be along in a sec. But I’m afraid I have to rush, Mrs Marshall. Yet another interminable meeting. Bye, Cassie. Have a great weekend.’

  ‘You too, Mr Adams. And thanks.’

  Holly wasn’t along in a sec. After five minutes passed, Fern wheeled Cassie outside, but there was no sign of her in the school yard. A few students mingled, some waiting for lifts home, but the groups were thinning out. Fern glanced at her watch. It was fifteen minutes since classes had finished. To pass the time, she loaded the laptop into the boot of her car, then parked Cassie in the shade of a tree. She scanned the school grounds anxiously.

  A girl walked towards them. She was vaguely familiar. And then Fern placed her. The girl who had been with Holly on Monday after Cassie’s interview.

  ‘Hello, Cassie.’ The girl crouched in front of Cassie’s wheelchair. ‘Remember me? Holly’s friend, Amy. How are you?’ She glanced up at Fern. ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Amy,’ said Fern. ‘Look, have you seen Holly? She’s supposed to meet us.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her since this morning.’ What she didn’t say was that she had searched for Holly at lunchtime without success, nor that she had missed a surprise maths test, sprung on them by Mr Tillyard. Amy was worried. Holly had never wagged before. And a surprise test was not the best place to start. After school finished, Amy had explored some of the dustier recesses of the library, but there had been no sign of her. Not in the library, nor in the toilets, or anywhere else as far as Amy could tell.

  ‘Strange,’ said Fern. ‘Perhaps I should get the secretary to put out another call.’

  Amy doubted it would do any good. But she didn’t say anything. She had tried at least ten times to ring Holly on her mobile, but it was turned off. And if Holly was outside the school grounds, it was likely she didn’t want to be contacted.

  ‘I’d best be going,’ she said. ‘Can you ask Holly to ring me, please? It’s urgent. Nice to see you again, Cassie.’

  Cassie smiled and twisted in her chair.

  ‘Thanks, Amy,’ said Fern. ‘I’ll pass on the message. If she ever bothers to show up.’

  Amy walked off into the wintery sunshine. She glanced back once or twice. Fern was scanning the school grounds, but they were deserted. Only a few cars remained in the car park and there was no one else around. The last time Amy looked, she saw Fern heading towards reception.

  Trouble was brewing. Amy could feel it.

  Holly

  My name is Holly Holley and I am happy, despite the fact that a girl who looks twelve years old and has a large metallic spike stuck into her eyebrow, is slashing at my hair like a madwoman.

  And I am the proud new owner of a one-hundred-and-fifty-buck pair of killer ankle boots. I’m normally the chain-store-twenty-five-dollars-get-the-second-pair-free sort of shoe shopper. But Demi is right. They are worth the money. Exactly the right colour to go with one of my new dresses. And according to Demi, the entire outfit makes my legs look longer. And longer legs are always an excellent idea.

  I am wearing the new boots and dress. My daggy school uniform is rolled up in one of the bags, tucked under exciting new pieces. I especially like one top and matching skirt, both of which are seriously awesome, and can be combined with some of my other clothes. Demi is teaching me that as well. Don’t look at clothes in isolation. Think of the effects you can achieve with the whole.

  I’ve spent over five hundred dollars.

  But I look a million bucks.

  As Mum might say, you don’t have to be an Einstein to work out this is good economics.

  But I don’t want to think about Mum. I force the image of her face from my mind and concentrate instead on my own image, looking back from the hairdresser’s mirror.

  Demi has pulled a few strings to get me in without an appointment. Now her and Kari and Georgia have gone to do some shopping of their own. They really are sweet. We’ve been trudging the stores for hours and they haven’t even thought about themselves. I glance down at the small sea of bags around my ankles. They are picking up a frosting of hair, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t bear to have them out of sight. When I look up again, the studded girl is working gel into what’s left of my hair. My mouth drops open. That’s happening a lot recently. If it continues I’ll have to have my jaws wired.

  Gone is the mousy hair that hung like a dispirited mat just above my shoulders. Instead I have an urchin cut with burgundy highlights. It’s like looking at someone you recognise but can’t quite place. It has never occurred to me that a haircut can actually change your features. Now my face looks leaner and my eyes bigger. I also have cheekbones. I never realised I have cheekbones.

  Demi is right again. I feel like a different person.

  The different person pays the bill of one hundred dollars without the notes having to be forced from her clenched fingers. The different person is confident. The different person is happy.

  I am happy.

  Demi and the girls are waiting outside. They have a whole bunch of shopping bags of their own.

  ‘Wow,’ says Demi. ‘That is a serious haircut.’

  ‘You look fantastic, Hol,’ says Georgia.

  ‘Very pretty,’ says Kari.

  Tears swell behind my eyes. I swallow a couple of times and keep my head turned to the ground. When I look up again I am not actually crying, but my eyes are swimming.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Let’s eat,’ I say. ‘My treat. As a thank you.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Demi. ‘And while we eat, we can give you our surprise.’

  ‘A surprise?’ I say. ‘What is it?’

  Demi puts her arm around my waist and marches me in the direction of the food hall.

  ‘Hate to break it to you, Hol,’ she says. ‘But the key element of a surprise is that it’s a . . .’


  ‘Surprise?’ I suggest.

  ‘Got it in one, girlfriend,’ she says and we both laugh.

  Ivy

  ‘If she’s okay, I’ll kill her,’ said Ivy. ‘And if she’s not, I’ll kill myself.’

  Ivy paced the kitchen. Fern leaned against the sink. Her face was pale and drawn.

  At four-forty, Fern had arrived at the health food shop without Holly. Ivy was shutting up the shop, counting money in the register and balancing it against the till roll. She’d looked up and smiled as she saw Fern. Then the smile faded as she read her sister’s face. Ivy took the news as any mother would. Immediately, her face aged, darkened by possibilities that could not be named.

  Now Fern and Ivy paced the kitchen floor at home and waited.

  ‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ said Fern.

  Ivy said nothing for a while. She didn’t have to.

  ‘What if she’s dead somewhere?’ Ivy’s face twisted in pain, as if the words she spoke had the power to cut her open.

  ‘Cassie doesn’t think so,’ said Fern. She sighed.

  ‘Her phone is turned off,’ said Ivy. ‘There’s no message on my mobile. If she was okay, why wouldn’t she let me know?’

  ‘I trust Cassie’s instincts about this.’

  ‘I’m driving round to Amy’s,’ said Ivy. ‘If she’s got nothing to add, then I’m calling the police.’

  ‘We’ll come with you,’ said Fern.

  ‘No. Stay here. Ring me if she turns up.’

  Cassie

  Holly is fine. She is safe.

  She will come home. Soon. She is safe.

  She needs you to suffer, though she doesn’t understand that herself. And because you would clip her wings. Her wings are new. She is in awe of them. She has not yet realised that wings can bear you up, but when they fail, the fall can bring more pain than if you’d never left the earth at all. I know about wings.

  I envy hers.

  Holly

  Holly had a double cheeseburger with bacon and extra large fries. She could have eaten an overfed horse between two bread vans, but that wasn’t on the menu.

  The others just had a small bag of fries each and they only picked at those. Explains why they are stick insects and I am built like a wombat, Holly thought, stuffing more burger into her mouth. I’ll attend to that part of my transformation later.

  ‘Demi,’ she said, trying not to spit meat onto the table top, ‘I just want to say thanks. You know, for helping me out. Thanks to all of you. For everything.’

  Demi reached for another fry, but seemed to think better of it, as if she could imagine calories turning into fat and expanding on her thighs.

  ‘What do you say, girls?’ she said to Kari and Georgia. ‘Time to spring the surprise?’

  They reached down and lifted up their shopping bags. One by one, they took out articles of clothing and piled them on the table. Tops, skirts, dresses, belts, jeans and trousers. One after another.

  Holly recognised them. Clothes she’d tried on in a number of stores, items Demi had liked on her, but which she couldn’t afford.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ said Demi.

  ‘It’s not my birthday,’ said Holly. She’d stopped eating and a plug of burger made her right cheek bulge. Her mouth started to unhinge yet again.

  Demi shrugged.

  ‘It will be,’ she said. ‘Everyone has a birthday. We’re just getting in early with our presents.’

  Holly had heard how a sudden realisation could feel like a blow from a hammer. This didn’t feel like that. It felt like a bomb.

  ‘You stole these,’ she whispered.

  Demi made a tutting sound.

  ‘Theft is such a harsh word, Hol,’ she said. ‘I prefer to think we liberated them. But if you have a problem with that, you can always return them. Mind you, you’d have a bit of explaining to do.’

  Holly just stared. After what seemed fifteen minutes she started to chew again, but her mouth was dry and she had to force a solid wad of food down her throat. Her hunger had gone. Suddenly she felt like everyone in the food hall was staring.

  ‘Put them away,’ she hissed.

  The girls laughed, but they folded the clothes up and returned them to the bags. They didn’t hurry. When the table was cleared, Demi rested her face in her hands and looked into Holly’s eyes.

  ‘Just one more thing,’ she said. ‘And I think our work here will be done. Make-up.’

  Holly’s brain had turned into cotton wool. She couldn’t gather her thoughts. The words came out with a laugh. But even then she knew this wasn’t in the slightest bit funny.

  ‘Which I guess we’re going to steal as well!’

  The girls didn’t reply. They just looked at her and smiled.

  Holly

  My name is Holly Holley and I am a thief.

  My heart is about to burst out of my ribcage. It’s hammering so hard, I am amazed the staff can’t hear it.

  I think about the advice the girls gave when I insisted on doing this myself. Act confident. Keep a look out for cameras. Be quick and decisive when pocketing the items. Don’t rush from the store. Always walk. Buy something small.

  But as I queue at the checkout my face burns. Guilt is oozing from every pore. I reek of it.

  ‘Hi, how are you?’ says the girl at the checkout.

  ‘Good. You?’

  ‘Good.’ She scans the nail polish that was hugely reduced. ‘Three dollars ninety-five, please.’

  I hand over a five dollar bill I’ve already taken from my handbag. My handbag is packed with lipstick, eyeliner and foundation. Items Demi identified as essential to my new look.

  ‘Can I check your bags?’ says the girl as she passes me the change. My heart stops.

  ‘Sorry?’

  The girl looks confused. ‘I said, “Have a nice day.”’

  A pounding in my ears tells me my heart has lumbered into action again.

  ‘Oh, thanks. You too.’

  And then I am out. The girls are sitting on a bench in a walkway around the corner. I hurry towards them. My feet don’t seem to touch the floor. I am still terrified. But nestling in the dark heart of that terror is a small and shining nugget of pride.

  Ivy

  ‘Police, please.’

  Fern had made a cup of tea, but Ivy hadn’t touched it.

  She had waited two more hours after discovering from Amy that Holly had wagged her last class. A fact Amy had been very reluctant to reveal. Ivy wasn’t sure if the wagging should make her more worried, or less. And somewhere deep in her gut she was vaguely aware of a niggling superstition that ringing the police would somehow usher in her worst nightmare. She’d kept thinking that any moment, Holly would walk in with an explanation. Something Ivy had forgotten. A meeting of some kind. ‘I told you about it, Mum.’

  But Holly hadn’t walked in.

  Ivy knew she should have rung the police straight away.

  How could she forgive herself for her delay?

  ‘I want to report a missing person.’

  It was the last two words that did it. As soon as they passed her lips, Ivy’s face crumpled, as if by speaking the words she had made them true. Wagging. Late. She could cope with those. Missing. The word sliced and slashed like a blade.

  Fern took the phone from her, and held her.

  6

  Holly

  When Holly opened the front door and stood, framed by the night, she saw Cassie in her wheelchair at the table, her mum holding the back of a chair and Aunty Fern holding her mum. The sound of sobbing abruptly choked off. For a moment Holly thought someone had died. Then she realised it was her.

  No one moved for a few hollow moments.

  Mum gaped. Aunty Fern looked at Holly as if she couldn’t quite place who she was. For once, Cassie was quiet. The kitchen clock ticked. Even then, for a second or two, Holly thought the atmosphere of stunned surprise was due to the way she looked. The black dress with the asymmetric hem, her red leather shoes and silver, hooped earring
s. Her spiked urchin cut with subtle burgundy highlights. Demi had applied her make-up. Holly scarcely recognised herself.

  But she recognised the emotions that washed across her mother’s face, one after another. Surprise, followed by relief. Then, a flooding dark flush of anger. Her mum broke away from Aunty Fern, took a pace or two towards Holly and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. Holly closed the front door.

  ‘Cass wants to go to her room,’ said Aunty Fern. ‘She needs to practise.’

  Practise getting into her room? thought Holly.

  No one said anything. Fern wheeled Cass out of the kitchen. Holly caught a glimpse of dark curls, brown eyes that brushed hers and then were gone.

  There were faint silver traces of tears on her mother’s cheeks, dried like snail’s tracks. And still she said nothing. It was as if she was swollen, tight with feeling.

  ‘Mum,’ said Holly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  And her words pricked the balloon.

  Cassie

  I burst another heart.

  Others are bursting elsewhere. Mine gives a dull plop. The others are pierced with pain. They make my cursor shake.

  I shuffle the pictures in my head and there is Holly at the door.

  Her eyes are full. Fear and joy battle, but I cannot tell which wins.

  She is beautiful.

  The dress made of night, the hair spiked with excitement, the eyes flooded in conflict.

  She is beautiful.

  Her wings are folded against her. Light and grace flash from them. I cannot find mine. I think I will never find mine.

  I burst another heart.

  Holly

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Holly’s mother’s words were engorged with anger.

  ‘Shopping.’

  ‘Shopping.’ The word came out of her mother’s mouth with a laugh. ‘You’ve been shopping. Well, that’s excellent, Holly. I hope you had fun. I truly hope you had a fine time.’

  Holly said nothing.

  ‘So, what? You went straight from school to the shopping centre, is that it? Gave Fern and Cassie the slip and took off at the end of lessons?’

  Holly shifted from foot to foot. The atmosphere in the kitchen was fractured yet still fragile. She wanted to put the bags down, but she didn’t dare move. She knew any slight movement would cause a landslide.