Cassie by Barry Jonsberg Read Free Book Online Page B

fingers. ‘Now close your eyes.’
    All Holly wanted was to get her hand back and escape into the welcome isolation of her unfamiliar bedroom. But she couldn’t. She’d been rude already. So she did as she was told.
    â€˜Cassie was born with a caul, Holly.’ Fern’s voice came from her left. ‘Do you know what a caul is?’
    Holly shook her head.
    â€˜It happens sometimes in birth. When the baby comes out it looks like it’s wearing a thin veil of skin over its face. It’s not a problem, or anything. But the presence of a caul has been associated with strange abilities. Call me mad, but Cassie has healing powers. I’m not kidding. Hold her hand and the headache will go away. Better than paracetamol, aren’t you, kiddo?’
    Holly wanted to laugh and call her mad, but she restrained herself. How long would this take? When could she reasonably remove her hand? She was starting to get pins and needles and her head felt light and airy, like she was about to pass out. Thirty seconds passed and then she pulled away.
    â€˜Hey, thanks,’ she said. ‘But I’d best be going. This homework is a real bummer and it’s due first thing in the morning. Goodnight. Goodnight, everyone.’
    Holly took off down the corridor. She nearly opened the door to her old bedroom before she remembered. Only when she was in her shoe box, did she allow herself to relax. She leaned back against the door and let out a very long sigh.
    Cassie
    I must learn everything again. A new school, teachers who will look at me and see only surface. Other people think surface is. But I am buried, fold within fold, and only those who look can see me. I have been here before.
    I am good at learning.
    I will be born afresh in this place.
    And down here, where I live, I can keep those I’ve left. I can keep Dad. I am strong.
    Holly has a kind and soft centre, but she is more scared than me. I will help her.
    If she lets me.
    Holly
    My name is Holly Holley and I am a chicken.
    Mum knocks on the door and opens it without waiting for an answer. I am in bed with an exercise book open on my lap.
    It isn’t a lie that I have homework to do.
    Telling them I was going to do it is the lie.
    I expect her to be angry. I’m prepared for her to be angry. I have my own anger pumped up and ready for battle. But she sits on the edge of the bed and runs a hand through her hair.
    â€˜How’s the homework going?’ she asks.
    â€˜Not well,’ I reply. These are support-act words, the appetiser. I wait for the main course.
    â€˜Chicken,’ she says. ‘I know this is difficult for you. You’ve been thrown out of your own room, you’ve missed that sleepover. I know it was important to you and I’m sorry. And now there’s Cassie. It’s not easy.’
    I don’t say anything. There’s nothing I disagree with.
    â€˜But …’ There’s always a ‘but’. Parents are programmed to say it. ‘But I think you need to make more of an effort. You can’t go on ignoring them …’
    â€˜I haven’t ignored them.’
    â€˜You’ve avoided them.’
    That’s closer to the truth, so I let it pass.
    â€˜I’m not having a go, sweetie. Seriously. I understand. And maybe it’s okay to avoid them for a bit. But there will come a time when your avoidance will hurt their feelings. And they don’t deserve that. Remember, chicken, there is a kid in there – a smart kid, a sensitive kid …’
    â€˜Mum, I know.’
    â€˜And she’s having a bad time. It’s not easy going through a split, particularly when there doesn’t seem to be any good reason for it.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’ I immediately regret asking. The last thing in the world I want to hear is sordid details. But it’s too late to take the words back.
    â€˜Oh, it’s just that James – Cassie’s dad …’