Finding Cassie Crazy Read Online Free

LETTERS
FROM
BROOKFIELD

    Letter to Emily Thompson
Ashbury High School
    Dear Emily
    Well, I have to say your letter was a bit of a shock. Maybe it’s a girl/guy thing? Do you want to ask your teacher if you can write to a girl in my class instead of to me? Or else, I’ve got a sister if you want to write to her? Just say the word if you do.
    Seriously, what grade are you in? No offence, but do you realise you talk like an 85 year old?
    You talk like the lady who works in the shop where I get my curry chicken pie every afternoon on the way home from school. She has white hair and every single day she says: ‘Ho ho! I know what you want, Mister Man! You want a sausage roll!’
    And I always say, ‘No, actually. I want a curry chicken pie.’
    That’s EVERY SINGLE DAY.
    Do you realise you talk like her?
    Here’s an example from your letter: ‘Don’t get me started!’
    That is an expression used by an 85-year-old woman in a cake shop.
    And besides which, how come you don’t want to get started? What will happen if you get started? Are you worried about using up your fuel or something? I mean, you already got started. Whenever you say that in your letter, it’s when you’ve already got started. It’s a weird expression if you don’t mind me saying so.
    I also have to say, and I’m only doing this for your own good, but you kind of prove the image of the private school girl from Ashbury High. I was reading the letter and what I was thinking was this: ‘
    Fu-u-u-u-uck me.’
    I’m telling you right off, I don’t know what we’re going to talk about if your favourite things are shopping, chocolate and horses. We could sing the soundtrack from The Sound of Music together, I guess, but otherwise, stuffed if I know. Can you think of any other interests, maybe?
    I think you should talk about your interests with those friends of yours, Lydia and Cassie, and just leave me out of there.
    One thing I can do, if you want, is explain to you why your friend Lydia’s mother is a celebrity. I’ve heard of her. So you don’t have to keep throwing things at your friend to find out. Say the word and I’m there.
    I can’t believe you’ve been best friends with Lydia since primary and you don’t know why her mum’s a celebrity.
    Still, I have a supersonic memory, which not all other people have. So I’ve got to make allowances. The first memory I have is from before I was conceived, I mean, before I came into being. About a fortnight before.
    It’s a ‘kooky’ thing about me, as you would say, like you and your secret assignments in the candle-wax envelopes.
    I’ll be straight with you, that’s the only interesting thing that I found in your letter. Those secret assignments. Tell me what they are.
    I can’t think of anything else to say. As I mentioned though, I have a sister and if you want to write to her, you just say the word.
    Yours sincerely
    Charlie Taylor

    Letter to Lydia Jaackson-Oberman
    Dear Lydia
    Happy Birthday for the other week.
    It’s great that you’re a fish because I’m a heron of the kind that flies around the sky and then swoops down to the ocean and screws your brains out.
    You thought I was going to say I was the kind of heron that swoops down and eats you, didn’t you?
    I was, but I thought that might be offensive.
    My mother is a food processor and my father is a wall-mounted clothes dryer. I have a kid brother, too, but I don’t know what kind of appliance he is yet. He’s too small.
    You’re a freak, you know that?
    I can’t figure out when you’re being serious and when you’re not. Example: does your mother really fly planes? Why?
    Other example: do you really want me to send you what you were saying you want me to send you? How much would you want me to send? We should talk about this. Suggest a place to meet.
    I don’t think you need