Completely Cassidy – Accidental Genius (Completely Cassidy #1)

by Tamsyn Murray

  Mum also offered to give me some money to go shoe shopping on Saturday morning. I guess it is the pregnancy hormones making her act WEIRZOID but I half-wondered if my real mother had been abducted and replaced by a nice-seeming alien who would experiment on us while we slept. Until I saw her dipping CHEESE STRINGS into a pot of apricot jam, that was. What is it with pregnancy and disgusting food combos, anyway? I’m telling you, the more I see, the more certain I become that I am NEVER having children.

  Anyway, Shenice and Molly and me were sitting on my bed in our pyjamas, munching a packet of Oreo cookies and trying to ignore the tortured sound of Liam’s guitar screeching through the wall. Shenice had just asked whether I’d be mates with, date or slate the lead singer from THE DROIDS.

  “Duh,” I said, pointing at the poster on my wall. “Have you seen him? Date, obviously.”

  “Okay, you can have Rory,” Shenice said generously. “As long as I get Ziggy. Molly, which one do you want?”

  Molly sniffed. “I prefer real musicians. Ones who can actually play their instruments instead of pretending to. The Droids are a manufactured band – they don’t deserve to be successful.”

  A particularly loud wail pierced the air. I frowned; unlike my brother, she’d certainly changed her tune. “You sound like Liam. That’s the kind of thing he comes out with every Saturday night.”

  She went a bit pink. “He’s right. And I bet his band is much better. What are they called again?”

  My frown deepened. It wasn’t at all like Molly not to join in with our endless conversations about Rory and Ziggy and Joel. Where had all this rubbish about real musicians come from? I shook my head, confused. “Something stupid like DOG BREATH. And no, they’re not better than The Droids. They can’t sing, for a start. They kind of shout the words instead, like they’re angry about everything.”

  “At least The Droids boys are cute,” Shenice put in, staring at my poster with a longing sigh. “Liam and his band mates look like a bunch of fourteen year olds trying to be cool.”

  Probably because they ARE a bunch of fourteen year olds trying to be cool.

  “Yeah, wait until you see Liam tomorrow, when he’s just dragged himself out of his pit and his hair is waxed to his nose,” I said, my voice heavy with scorn. “You won’t think he’s so ace then.”

  Molly stuck out her chin in a way I knew meant she was up for a fight. I’d seen that look plenty, like when she launched herself at Jake Marshall in Year Three for stealing her TAMAGOTCHI and her mum got called in to see the Headteacher. Shenice must have recognized the warning signs too, because she hurriedly picked up the Oreos packet and shook it. “We’re out of supplies. Got anything else to eat, Cass?”

  “Let’s go and raid the fridge,” I suggested, grateful for the diversion. “Mum’s got a family bag of Maltesers in there – one of you can create a distraction and I’ll smuggle them upstairs while she’s not looking.”

  For once, I was actually glad to bump into Liam on the landing. He was bound to ignore us completely and Molly would see how horrible he was. But she had other plans.

  “Hi, Liam,” she said, smiling at him.

  I waited for the inevitable snub.

  “Oh, hi, ladies,” he replied, flicking his heavyweight fringe out of his eyes. “How you doing?”

  I rolled my eyes. If there’s one thing Liam isn’t, it’s smooth enough to pull off a cheesy chat-up line.

  But Molly was lapping it up. In fact, I swear she FLUTTERED HER EYELASHES at him. “I’m good, thanks. Loved your guitar playing, by the way.”

  Shenice’s mouth dropped open at the exact second mine did. No one in their right mind would describe what Liam had been doing as guitar “playing”. GUITAR TORTURE was more like it.

  Liam grinned. “Always good to meet a fan. Molly, isn’t it?”

  I thought I might actually pass out. It’s as much as he can do to remember my name most of the time, let alone what my mates are called.

  Beaming, Molly twisted her hands in her SpongeBob pyjamas. “Yeah. I bet you’re the best one in Dog Breath.”

  Liam’s smile slipped a bit. “It’s WOLF BRETHREN, actually. As in pack brothers who hear the call of the wild.”

  Shenice dissolved into giggles and I was trying so hard to swallow a burst of laughter that I almost choked. Molly looked devastated, though.

  “Sorry – I thought—” She broke off her apology to glare at me. “Cassie told me you were called Dog Breath. She’s SO immature.” And she flounced into my room, slamming the door after herself.

  “Cassidy!” my dad bellowed from the living room. “Stop banging about up there. Your mother’s trying to rest!”

  “Yeah, Cassidy, stop banging about,” Liam sneered, pulling a stupid face. “You’re so immature.”

  “At least I don’t still SUCK MY THUMB!” I fired back, and dodged the thump he threw my way. His hand thudded into the banister and he let out a whimper of pain.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he growled, cradling his fist like it was about to fall off. “If I miss one minute of a WOLF BRETHREN rehearsal because of you, the lads will rip you apart with their bare teeth.”

  He spun about and stamped into his room. The door rattled in its frame as he slammed it shut.

  “Cassidy!” my dad yelled, sounding furious. “Don’t make me come up there!”

  I opened my mouth to shout that it wasn’t even me but realized there was no point. Shenice threw me a sympathetic look and I shook my head in pity. Where was Molly when Liam showed his true colours, eh? Where?

  Sighing at the injustice of it all, I squared my shoulders. “Come on, Soldier,” I said to Shenice, heading for the stairs. “OPERATION: FRIDGE RAID is go.”

  I only hoped Mum hadn’t guzzled the emergency Maltesers in another of her baby-fuelled binges. Because if I knew anything about Molly’s moods, it was that they tended to be the wrong side of epic. Without chocolate to sustain us, Shenice and I might not survive the night. As I reached into the fridge and slid out the unopened family-sized bag, I remembered the scowl on Molly’s face as she’d stormed off. And although even Rory from The Droids couldn’t have dragged it from me, I was a little bit hurt by her “immature” dig. Was that really what she thought of me?

  Gnawing my bottom lip, I looked at the chocolate packet in my hand doubtfully.

  “Know what, Shen? We’re going to need a bigger bag.”

  Chapter Four

  I was feeling a lot more “GLASS HALF FULL” about my second Monday morning at St Jude’s by the time it rolled around. Now that the first week was under my belt, it felt like the worst bit was over. And I’d picked up a gorge new pair of ballet pumps to replace the ones Rolo had murdered. They were black and had little hearts picked out in tiny red crystals at the back. I fell in love with them the moment I saw them and had a nail-nibbling wait while the bored-looking shop assistant went to check if they had them in my size. Even Molly liked them and she turned out to be very hard to please in the aftermath of her MEGA Liam-related strop. It had taken the combined wit of Shenice and me doing our best comedy dance-off routine to get her to crack a smile on Friday night and the mood hadn’t really lifted much by the time she went home on Saturday. I really hoped she’d got over it when I slid in beside her and Shenice for double English – a moody Molly is no fun at all.

  I needn’t have worried – the moment Mr Bearman had explained how to do the day’s work and the class broke into subdued chattering, Molly beckoned me and Shenice forward, her eyes sparkling. “Have you heard the news?”

  Mum had made us listen to Radio Four in the car (or RADIO SNORE, as Liam and I call it) but I didn’t think the global economic crisis was the kind of news Molly meant. “About what?”

  Molly looked even more gleeful. “There’s a rumour going around that the school is planning a ST JUDE’S HAS GOT TALENT competition.”

  “Shut up!” Shenice breathed, her brown eyes suddenly saucer-like.

  I felt a thrill of excitement and i
mmediately started to wonder who would enter and what hidden talents would be revealed. I could just picture myself wowing the entire school with my amazing talent. Of course, I’d have to work out what my talent was first, but that was a minor detail. Everyone has something they’re really good at, right? “Who told you there’s going to be a talent contest?”

  “Nathan Crossfield’s mum is on the PTA and he says it’s all been agreed.” Molly cleared her throat. “I’m sure Liam will be excited when he finds out. Wouldn’t it be great if WOLF BRETHREN won?”

  The image of me surrounded by flowers, adoring fans and a crying Simon Cowell vanished as I let out a loud snort. “That’s never gonna happen, unless they hold a ST JUDE’S HAS GOT NO TALENT as well.” I grinned at my own joke. Shenice cackled on cue but Molly didn’t even smile and I remembered she’d had a sense of humour fail where Liam was concerned. Maybe I’d better steer clear of bad-mouthing my brother around her. “Who else do you think will enter?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone, I suppose. There’s another rumour that some of the teachers are going to do a MAMMA MIA medley.”

  “As long as it’s not Elvis Presley.” I shuddered. “Anything but that.”

  Sometimes, I wonder if my parents are having a competition to see who can embarrass me the most. My dad works in an office during the day, doing what sounds like the dullest job ever. Nothing embarrassing about that, you might think, and you’d be right. I wouldn’t mind if that was his only job, but at night, he – well, there’s no way I can make this sound good so I may as well just come out with it – at night, he sometimes moonlights as an ELVIS IMPERSONATOR. How toe-curlingly hideous is that? I remember waking up in the night once when I was about five and meeting him on the stairs just as he was heading out to do a gig. I’m not sure what traumatized me more, the WONKY BLACK WIG or the TERRIBLE FAKE TAN, but Mum says my screams woke the neighbours five houses away.

  Shenice folded her arms. “You won’t catch me showing myself up onstage. I don’t mind helping you do it, though.”

  She winked at me and I scowled back. “Thanks, Shen,” I said, giving her a dead-eyed look. “Going all out for FRIEND OF THE YEAR, I see.”

  Actually, I kind of got where she was coming from in my case. I’d fallen off the stage in at least two of our nativity performances over the years and the only time I’d ever been trusted with lines, I’d frozen with fear and peed my pants. In my defence, I should point out that I was only five years old at the time.

  Shenice rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. And don’t try to tell me you’re not thinking of entering – I can see it in your eyes.”

  I sniffed; she knew me too well. I noticed she didn’t suggest that Molly would be showing herself up by performing. Then again, Molly sang like an ANGEL and probably stood a decent chance of winning. I didn’t even need to ask if she’d be entering.

  Molly leaned towards us again. “There’s also going to be some sort of Year Seven INTER-SCHOOL QUIZ THING this term. Nathan says the teachers are supposed to be on the lookout for BRAINBOXES to represent St Jude’s.”

  It wasn’t in the same league as winning a talent contest but I could totally imagine myself helping St Jude’s become QUIZ CHAMPIONS, too. Not that I was likely to get headhunted to join the team; I’ve never considered myself smart, although I like to think I could be clever, if I wanted to be.

  Then something occurred to me. “Wait a minute…who’s this Nathan you keep going on about?”

  Shenice stared at me. “You haven’t heard about Nathan yet?”

  I shook my head, trying to remember if either of them had mentioned him.

  She folded her arms, sighing, as though I’d failed some kind of test. “He’s only the COOLEST boy in Year Seven. Seriously, I heard that some of the Year Nines were asking him for style tips this morning.” Her head jerked towards the other side of the classroom. “Don’t look now but he’s over there.”

  I glanced across the room and then it happened: the clouds outside the window parted to let a single brilliant shaft of light beam down upon a TANNED, BLOND-HAIRED BOY laughing with his mates, and I knew without the tiniest doubt that he was Nathan. I can’t be sure, but I think an angelic chorus might have burst into song somewhere nearby. Anyway, he looked up at exactly that moment and – cue the harps – ours eyes met. Shenice hadn’t been messing about when she said he was cool; any cooler and he’d be wearing icicles. But no one had mentioned he was GORGEOUS too.

  “OMG, he totally caught you looking!” Shenice squeaked. “Stop staring.”

  But I was like a magpie who’d caught sight of a bright shiny jewel – utterly unable to look away. Until Molly landed a hefty kick on my shin and I yelped in pain.

  “Sorry,” she said, sounding like she was anything but. “It’s for your own good. You looked like you were about to start drooling.”

  “I was not,” I said indignantly. Rubbing my leg, I risked another glance over at Nathan. The sun had gone behind the clouds again and he had his back to me. “How come I didn’t notice him last week?”

  “Been on holiday in Florida,” Shenice replied, gazing at the back of his head and sighing. “He only got back this weekend.”

  I frowned. “Then how does Molly know so much about him already?”

  Molly waved an airy hand. “Oh, me and Nathan go all the way back to playgroup, although obviously he didn’t go to Westwood Primary with us. He lives a few doors down from me; we’ve been neighbours all our lives.”

  Shenice and I exchanged glances; I couldn’t believe she’d kept such a HOTTIE secret from us. For YEARS. Anyone would think she was scared we would embarrass her or something equally ridiculous. I don’t know what she thought we’d do; Shenice and I could be ice-cool when we needed to be. Like that time when we saw the bloke who plays Mr Tumble at the bookshop in town – we hardly squealed at all AND we got his autograph.

  “Do you think he’ll enter the talent contest?” I asked, imagining Nathan fronting a band or busting a move on the stage.

  Molly shook her head and shot me a withering look. “Nah, he’s too smart for all that. I reckon he’ll get snapped up for the quiz team.”

  Good looks and intelligence? Nathan Crossfield seemed to be a cut above your average Year Seven boy; I bet he didn’t think fart jokes were the height of comedy, either. It was a shame I had no chance of making this quiz team – it would have been the perfect way to get to know him without relying on Molly. But if I couldn’t use my brains to get his attention, maybe there was another way to catch his eye. I’d just have to show him that Cassidy Bond had talent too.

  Chapter Five

  Nice of the teachers at St Crude’s to hit us with a trip to TEST HELL on Tuesday afternoon. Okay, so they weren’t the kind of tests you can really revise for, more like those “milk is to cream as water is to—?” type questions, which I’ve never really got, but still – a bit of advance warning, people. It said at the top of the test sheet that they were called CATs, which made things even worse. I am definitely more of a dog person.

  I nearly sat in the wrong seat as there’s another girl called C BOND in Year Seven – what are the chances of that? I don’t think we’re related, though, that would be too weird. Once I was in the right seat, I spent the first fifteen minutes of the test trying to see what she looked like, in case we were actually twins tragically separated at birth, until a teacher tapped me on the shoulder and told me to get on with it. I tried to answer the ridiculous questions but I admit I guessed at a few, which I suppose means I will be in the bottom set for everything. A week ago, I wouldn’t have minded so much but now I want to impress Nathan and I can hardly do that if we are separated by the gulf of academic failure, can I?

  It will also mean I’ll be split up from Molly and Shenice for the first time since our school days began. Molly’s parents thought about sending her to a private school for a while, so she had a tutor for a few months and can do these stupid tests in her sleep. Even Shenice said she didn’t know
what I was making such a big deal out of it for, which probably means she is an undiscovered SMARTY-PANTS and will join Molly in the top set.

  The only upside of the whole sorry situation was that I got to sit at the desk across the aisle from Nathan and he smiled at me when I dropped my pen and it rolled under his chair. I’m not saying it means he’ll invite me to the prom or anything but at least he knows I exist, right? I just wish it hadn’t been my Tweenies pen, that’s all.

  So I was trying to forget about my impending academic ruin. It was proving harder than it sounded as Liam mentioned school every five minutes at dinner that night. I’ve never seen him so excited about St Crude’s – he was in serious danger of sounding enthusiastic as he went on and on to Mum and Dad about ST JUDE’S HAS GOT TALENT.

  “The winner gets two hundred and fifty quid, which me and the boys could put towards some new equipment,” he said, barely pausing to shovel in some spaghetti Bolognese. “And there’s a rumour that some MUSIC INDUSTRY INSIDERS will be there.”

  I snorted into my grated Parmesan. Even I knew that no self-respecting record label would send someone along to watch a kids’ talent show in a CRUMMY old school.

  Liam glared at me. “Joe Fisher’s dad works for Sony, actually, and he says he’s coming.”

  What as, I wondered, a janitor? But I didn’t say it out loud.

  Dad nodded. “Have you decided what you’re going to play?”

  For the first time, Liam’s enthusiasm dipped and I knew why. Whenever anyone gets into a conversation about music with Dad, it inevitably ends up on Elvis. Our Uncle Ian refuses to spend Christmas with us because of it. Well, that and the unfortunate time Auntie Jane and Mum got really drunk and played Knock Down Ginger on every door in our road.