Finding Cassie Crazy Read Online Free Page B

of my birthday, which, as you know, wasn’t long ago.
    This will be me telling you about the morning of my birthday:

    The scene is the Breakfast Pyramid.
    The Breakfast Pyramid is built out of frosted glass and is reached by a tunnel from the back door of our house. It is filled with Egyptian treasures, such as ashtrays.
    The mother, Mum , dressed in a tissue-paper nightgown, sits at one end of the breakfast table. The father, Dad , dressed in a suit and tie, sits at the other end. They are both butteringcroissants in a very deliberate way so that croissant flakes are floating all around the pyramid.

    Occasionally, there is a thud as the family dog, Pumpernickel , hurls himself at the frosted glass, trying to get someone’s attention. There is an outside shot of Pumpernickel backing away from the Pyramid to line up and take another hit at the frosted glass.

Mum:
( sweetly ) Take it easy on the butter there, honey. You’ve already forgotten the results of your latest cholesterol test, haven’t you?
Dad:
This is low-fat margarine, as a matter of fact.
Mum:
( surprisingly ) Up yours, as a matter of fact.
Pumpernickel:
( Thud )
The beautiful daughter , Lydia, enters.
Lydia:
( happily ) Great, croissants.
Dad:
Honey, you’re still in your PJs. We need to be out of here in five minutes, kiddo.
He dissolves a tablet into a glass of water.
Lydia:
( through the glass to the dog ) You can do it, Pumpernickel.
Pumpernickel:
( Thud )
Dad:
( pressing his thumbs to his temples ) Lydia.
Don’t tease the dog, honey.
Lydia:
( sympathetically ) Do you have a headache, your worship?
Dad:
(chuckling ) Well! You’re going to have to figure out the difference between amagistrate and a judge if you want to stay in this family! Your worship is what you say to a magistrate. Your honour is what you say to a judge. And what’s your dad, eh?
Lydia:
( charmingly ) I know that, Dad! I was messing with you!
Dad:
( pushing back his chair ) I’ll wait in the car for five minutes for you, Lyd. But then I’ll just have to go, I’m afraid. It’s late, kiddo.
Exit Dad.
Lydia:
Hey, Mum. You know what day it is today?
Mum:
( staring distractedly at the dog which is now sliding down the frosted glass with a slow, squealing sound ) No, darling, I haven’t the faintest idea. ( Frowns for a moment, deep in thought ) I think it might be Tuesday.
    END OF SCENE

    So that’s the end of me telling you about my birthday morning.
    (But then on the way to school I reminded my dad what day it was and he spun the car in the middle of the highway, took a right into a one-way street doing about 180 k, parked in a disabled spot outside Dymocks, picked up a book for my birthday, and then jumped back into the car. I just wish I’d had a camera with me and I could have taken a photo of my dad’s car in the disabled parking spot and sent it to the papers.)
    I don’t think we should meet.
    I think this will work better by mail.
    I have decided that we have to tell each other the dreams that we had the previous night. Well, last night I had a dream that I was a snail. Nothing really happened, I just sat there being a snail and sometimes stretching my neck a bit. That’s it.
    What did you dream?
    See you
    Lydia

    Dear Matthew Dunlop
    Thank you very much for your letter. I loved it.
    So anyway, how have you been? You didn’t give away much in your letter.
    Mr Botherit told us that sometimes boys have trouble expressing their feelings and he hopes the boys in our class can work through that in their letters. Also, he hopes we keep it in mind if we’re lucky enough to get a boy for a penfriend. Those were his words:
    Lucky enough to get a boy.
    Does he mean it’s unlucky if you get a girl for a penfriend?
    I am one of the lucky ones. I got a boy. YOU. And you are a champion. Don’t let anybody tell you any different, k?
    I don’t think you have that much trouble expressing your feelings, but you