Charlie
PS Em? How exactly did you kidnap Wilson without him noticing?
Dear Lydia
Okay, I’m writing this with the full expectation that I’ll be expelled when Paul gets around to telling the teachers how I kicked his arse.
But I’ve got a heart full of happiness. Because it’s so good to see your words again, and because I went to the art show yesterday. Which was an excellent day, with the canapés as promised and my art teacher full of canapé-like conversation on the train.
I got to school expecting to be thrown out on the spot, and I couldn’t believe it when the Art teacher and I just headed to the station, brazen as a pair of cockatoos. I thought maybe God had sent a truck to run Paul down on his way to the principal’s office.
I now realise that you are God.
How did you even know I’d attacked Paul Wilson? How did you keep him away all day?
These are the questions that mystify me.
You’re right, Lyd, it was a stupid thing to do, attacking the Year 10 Form Captain and Star of the School Drama. But I swear on David Beckham’s haircut, Paul Wilson is the last person I plan to beat up in my whole life. Unless, let’s say, it’s absolutely necessary to beat someone up.
So you know that I’m not a maniac who lays into people at random, I’ll tell you what happened with Paul.
I’m walking home from school, thinking about your beautiful face and even more beautiful personality, and trying to figure out how I might see them again, and I notice Paul Wilson across the road, walking along with good posture like the arrogant prick that he is.
I started thinking as follows: it’s the fault of that guy that Lyd thinks the world is an evil place which you can’t trust, and it’s the fault of that attitude of Lyd’s that she’s taking so long to forgive me for a small error of mine.
‘Hey arsehole,’ I said, but in a friendly way, so he thought I was just saying hi.
‘Hey cockbrain,’ he said, in response.
Then I crossed over the road and we walked along for a bit, pretending to like each other. I raised the fact that Ashbury girls are hot. He agreed but added that they’re cockteasing rich bitches, or words like that. I acted like I was interested in this opinion and asked if he’d had personal experience. He said he could tell from the way they looked at him.
So then I asked whether he got a penfriend at Ashbury in Radison’s English class.
And you know what he did? He told me what he did to Cassie. In shorthand form but basically it was all there, like a funny story.
Like maybe he’d been waiting to tell someone?
So I said: ‘Fuck me, you really are an arsehole,’ and beat the crap out of him.
You have to admit, that’s an unusual situation.
Love
Seb
Thursday
Dear Seb
I hope you’re still at school to get this letter. Sorry we couldn’t figure out a way to stop Paul from telling on you ever. Eg we could have killed him. But I’m happy we got you to the art show—I heard you won a prize and I’m so proud of you I can’t stop smiling.
Okay, I’ll now tell you what happened with Paul Wilson.
The night before your art show Cass found a letter under the front door of her home, which was from Paul. He basically told her you’d attacked him and that he was going to get revenge by telling the principal the next morning.
He must have thought that Cass arranged the attack and he wanted to let her know he was still the winner.
So Cass figured out this plan to make sure he couldn’t get to say anything until after your show.
Then she called Em and me around and we worked out the details.
So this is what happened.
Early in the morning, Em phoned Paul Wilson’s place and put on a posh voice. She said that she was a casting agent who sometimes went to rehearsals of school plays to scout for new talent. (Okay. Shut up. It was a long shot. But he fell for every word.)
‘Now, I’ve been at some of your Brookfield play rehearsals lately,’ Em said, ‘and I’ve been extremely excited by your work, young man.’ She was reading from a script that we’d written together.
Cass and I could hear Paul’s voice on the other end of the phone. He was trying to be polite, like, ‘Well, that’s very kind of you,’ with this little chuckle.
Then Em says, ‘I’ve been meaning to suggest you come in for a photo shoot, but I’ve got a minor emergency and I’m calling to ask for your help. A local production company is filming the final scenes of a made-for-TV movie today and they had a young actor lined up for a small part—but, as luck would have it, he’s got food poisoning and can’t do it!’
‘Oh no!’ said Paul.
‘The filming is way over time,’ continued Em, ‘and Heath and Naomi have to fly back to LA tomorrow—so it’s got to be done today!’
Originally Cass wanted Josh Hartnett and Reese Witherspoon to be flying back to LA tomorrow, but then we decided to Australianise it.
‘Oh dear!’ says Paul, sounding like the biggest nerd on earth.
‘So, the producers called me, and I was going through my regular list but I just kept seeing your face in my mind’s eye, and I think you’d be perfect for this role.’
Paul goes, ‘Really?’
‘Really. I phoned your school principal, got your contact details and also got her permission to take you out of school for the day.’
(Actually, we got his contact details from the phone book. It was easy—you once told me what street he lives on.)
Em stopped and Cass mouthed at her: ‘If that’s not a problem for you.’
‘If that’s not a problem for you,’ Em added.
Paul tried to switch on a professional voice and said, ‘That’s not a problem at all—although’—and he got slightly panicked—‘I was in a bit of an accident last night—and I’ve got a bit of a bruise around one of my eyes . . .’
‘You clearly don’t know the magic of makeup artists, do you?’ Em says, smoothly, which was some pretty amazing improvisation on her part.
‘We’d obviously like you to come by right away, so you can learn your lines and get your makeup and costuming done,’ Em continues, going back to her script.
And Paul says, ‘No problem.’
I think I already told you that my mum is one of the owners of a small production studio? The receptionist, Mary-Ellen, lets us hang out in their makeup section when we don’t feel like going to school.
So Em gave Paul the address of the studio.
And we asked Mary-Ellen to watch out for our ‘friend’, Paul Wilson, and send him to the makeup room when he arrived.
That’s where I met him, and I pretended I was like the director’s trainee assistant and I gave him this five-page script I’d written.
He spent all morning practising his lines into one of the mirrors.
I made him play this boy who’s having a mental breakdown in the middle of a disaster scene. So he had these really stupid lines, such as a bit where he had to burst into tears and say, ‘Mummy? My socks are falling down!’ and also another bit where he has to have a sneezing fit.
I kept going in and out of the room, pretending I was doing stuff with makeup, and trying not to crack up at the way he kept trying out different kinds of sneezes.
Then I asked Jerry, the makeup artist, to go in there and give him the most over-the-top makeup job ever. Jerry had a good excuse for it too, because of Paul’s black eye (which didn’t look that bad to me—he’s a bit of a wimp if he calls that getting smashed). Anyway, Jerry did a fantastic job. Paul looked like a vampire.
We sent him off in a taxi into town, and told him to meet the film crew in Martin Place. Then we gave Mary-Ellen a message to give him if he called, and we hung out in the reception area of the studio and waited.
He finally called around 4.30. Mary-Ellen didn’t know what was going on, but she knew enough to put it on speaker phone so we could hear.
H
e asked if there were any messages for him, in this worried voice. Like he probably thought he’d gone to the wrong place and messed up the whole movie.
And Mary-Ellen said, all innocent: ‘Oh yes, there’s a message here for you from Cassie Aganovic. She says she got your letter under her door last night but she doesn’t have a clue who you are.’
There was this dead silence on the other end of the phone.
‘Hello?’ Mary-Ellen said. ‘Hello? Are you there?’
‘There’s a message from who?’ Paul says.
‘From Cassie Aganovic.’
‘Does she—does she work there?’
‘No, she doesn’t.’
‘Okay, well, what about the movie? I’m supposed to be meeting Heath and Naomi here and—’
‘Heath and Naomi? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just have this message for you—would you like me to read it again?’
‘No . . . I just . . . I thought—’
Then you could practically hear the whole thing tumbling down in Paul Wilson’s head as he figured out what had happened. His breathing got heavy and fast, and he was trying to slow it down. And then he said, really quietly, ‘I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong number’ and hung up.
Mary-Ellen put the phone down and looked over at us with her eyebrows raised, like: Is that what you wanted? Then she went back to her paperback novel.
I have to tell you, Em, Cass and I were silent for a moment. We have a capacity for feeling bad, which we always catch from each other. And I know all three of us were thinking about his voice when he said, ‘I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong number.’ Like you never heard disappointment so heavy in your life.
And Em said, ‘That sure got him,’ in a doubtful kind of voice and what she really meant was: Did we go too far?
Like, to send someone over the moon, thinking they were going to be a star. And then to crumple up the moon in their face.
Then Cass said, really quiet and straight-faced: ‘Mummy? My socks are falling down.’
Mary-Ellen shook her head at us from the reception desk, we were laughing so hard.
I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking. That Em and I spent all that time trying to take away the thing that Paul Wilson loved the most. Which we thought must be his girlfriend. Whereas Cass figured out exactly what it was that he loved most: himself. Or at least, his idea of himself.
He was so sure of himself, that he didn’t even doubt it for one single second when Em phoned up pretending to be a casting agent.
And Cass took all that away. For one day, anyhow.
So, anyway, Seb, I guess you don’t want to talk about you and me, when you’re waiting to find out whether you’re going to be expelled or not. But I just wanted to say that I maybe overreacted about the way you tricked me, you know, seeing the photo before you saw me? We were just playing a game, but I turned it into something really serious. And now I sometimes wonder why I got so mad.
I guess I thought you were getting to know me on one level and that you liked me because of my letters. Whereas, in fact, you were just interested in the regular way. So, how could I trust that you liked who I really was?
Your sincerely
Lydia
Friday
Dear Charlie
Well, I’m so glad we kidnapped Paul Wilson! It was like killing a flock of birds, that kidnapping. Cass got her revenge on Paul; Seb got to go to his art show; you got to forgive me; the list goes on! I will tell you the whole story of what happened one day! Which day?! This weekend, Lyd and Cass will come to my place so we can celebrate everything. Maybe you and I can celebrate on a day next week?!
Love
Em
Dear Lydia
I’m still here and that was a beautiful thing that you and your friends did for me. Set up a meeting at the Voodoo Lounge, can you, so I can buy all three of you drinks all night?
Furthermore, it seems like you’ve saved me for a lifetime, not just a day. Paul’s scars are fading as we speak and he hasn’t gone to the authorities. He’s even smiling at me, in a Hey mate, let’s put it behind us and move on kind of way. At least that’s how I read the smiles. Maybe you guys embarrassed him so much you reformed him?
I am grateful to you for the rest of my life. And when I say ‘you’, I mean every part of you, including your mind and your smile and your giggle and the mad look you get in your eyes sometimes. If you don’t believe that your words have got into my soul, take a look at the painting that I took to the art show (it’s called The Puppy and the Pyramid, which is what you might call a clue). But if I don’t get to kiss you fairly soon, Lyd, I won’t have a soul left to speak of.
Lots of love
Seb
PART 31
THE BATTLE
Day 1—Monday
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY
Spring is in the air!
But is it in your step?
And is it in your writing hand,
And is it in your chair?
If not, you’d better put it there!
Welcome to the New Week, Year 10! Let’s hope it’s a Good One!
This has been a message from your Form Mistress
URGENT NOTICE—Monday, 10.45 am
Due to serious events that have just been brought to my attention, the Ashbury–Brookfield Pen Pal Project has been SUSPENDED, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. The mail boxes will be removed and placed in safe storage. Any correspondence currently in the mail boxes will be confiscated and may be destroyed.
This has been a message from your Form Mistress
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected];
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: What’s going on?!?!
Dear Charlie
Thank the Lord it is the modern age and we do not have to rely on cardboard mail boxes to communicate!
What’s going on!? Do you know?!
We hear that ‘serious events’ have occurred! What could they be? WHY HAVE THEY SUSPENDED THE ASHBURY–BROOKFIELD PEN PAL PROJECT?! It’s such a great and educational project!
The teachers remain tightlipped.
Love
Emily
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected];
[email protected]
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: What’s going on?!?!
Hey Em & you others in the CC world. Here is the serious event as I see it: some Ashbury kids broke into our school over the weekend and used red paint to write ‘DEATH TO BROOKER KIDS’ and ‘BROOKER BITES’ all over the walls of the Year 10 home rooms. Way to go, Ashbury.
Buggered if I know why they had to stop the letter exchange though.
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
[email protected]
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: What’s going on?!?!
Charlie! That’s ridiculous!! No Ashbury student would be brave enough to break into your school and paint graffiti! Except maybe Lyd or Cass. And it wasn’t you, was it Lyd and Cass? Please confirm. I can see you both across the library there, typing your overdue assignments, so please confirm immediately.
Charlie, I’m sure it wasn’t Ashbury students.
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
[email protected]
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: No, Em, it wasn’t us
Em, do you really think Cass and I would use the expression ‘Brooker Kids’ in graffiti?
To: [email protected]
CC: Lydia.Oberman@
ashburyhigh.com.au;
[email protected];
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Another thing
It should also be mentioned, Em, that we all spent the weekend together at your place. At what point did we sneak away from you to go paint slogans at Brookfield? Why do they think it was Ashbury students anyway?
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
[email protected]
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Another thing
I hear the Ashbury crest was painted after every anti-Brookfield slogan. Listen, I’ve gotta go, they’re locking down the computer room for the night, but take care walking the streets in your Ashbury uniforms, eh? Personally, I’m very happy for you Ashbury kids to paint our walls, but a lot of people here are taking it to heart. There’s anti-Ashbury threats being made under the breath (and on top of the breath) of some of the criminal element.
Day 2—Tuesday
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY
Where is the spirit of unity
When intruders behave with impunity?
Students: With regret, I must inform you that intruders smashed the windows of the Year 10 classrooms last night, broke in and spray-painted unkind words on the walls. The classrooms have been locked so that the police can investigate.
With even greater regret, I must inform you that this incident may have been carried out by Brookfield students, as retribution for a weekend attack on Brookfield. Anybody with information about these attacks should come forward immediately.
This has been a message from your distressed Form Mistress
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected];
[email protected];
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: ATTACK FROM BROOKFIELD
Charlie! You were RIGHT to warn us!!! We are in danger here at Ashbury! Some of your compatriots have broken into our school, and SMASHED THINGS! I feel a bit uneasy. On the bright side, all our classes are now being taken outside, on the squash courts, in the art rooms etc, so it’s fairly leisurely.
Finding Cassie Crazy Page 21
