Free Finding Cassie Crazy by Jaclyn Moriarty

when people rely on you it’s what I call deadly serious. It’s fine for you looking all pretty therein your frosted glass but you just don’t think about people who might not have frosted glass.
    I’m just saying that there are now five minutes to period 5 here and I don’t hear any alarm bells. I’m just saying you better forget about writing to me again because you know what? You let me down. You’ve gotta be able to trust people and I thought maybe you weren’t like those other Ashbury
girls because you sounded kind of wacked out. But now I think maybe you’re just like them and maybe you’re a snake. I don’t know, Lyd, I’m not saying you are.
    But you’re one of them, Lydia, that’s for sure.
    Don’t start crying or anything because it’s not like me to be upfront like this unless I’m really mad, but well done, Lydia, you’ve got me pissed. Maybe you’re still sick, but you should have let me know, okay. No offence but you’re not a team player, Lyd. You play mean is what you do. You’re the kind of player that’s always doing hand balls because you don’t want to bother hitting the ball with your head on account of it might mess up your hair. That’s rich people for you all over. People rely on you Lyd and—
    Fuck me with a frying pan.
    You did it.
    The alarm’s going off right now, Lyds baby, and I just heard an announcement made by my good buddy Charlie Taylor telling us about a gas leak. There is no gas in this school but that’s a fact that’s passed my good buddy Charlie by. Also the people around me who are tearing up to the oval like cattle on heat.
    Jesus, Mary, and the other guy, I am in love with you.
    You are the most beautiful, gorgeous, unbelievable girl in the country, Lydia, and I am totally in awe of you.
    I’m out of here. I’ll drop this off at the Ashbury mail box on my way to the oval, being careful of gas explosions. You tell me a time and place where we can meet, okay? I want to take you out to say thank you for this.
    You rock
    Seb

    Dear Lydia
    Hey, what happened to you? It’s been like a week or something and I haven’t heard back. I thought you were planning on sending me a challenge of your own?
    Did I not thank you enough? I seem to recall that I told you you were gorgeous and sexy or something like that. That’s good enough, isn’t it?
    Where are you?
    I miss your crazy talk. I really want to meet you in person.
    Seb

    Lydia?

    Dear Sebastian
    Do you understand that you can get out a new piece of paper if you change your mind about writing something?
    Lydia

    Dear beautiful Lydia
    I don’t know what you’re talking about but it’s good to hear your voice again. I forgive you for being a freak but, because I’m in love with you for making that happen with the alarm. That was a nice touch keeping me in suspense like that but in future you might think about my blood pressure. Meantime, I’m hanging to take you out to your favourite location and worship you for life.
    Hey, did I ever tell you I have a little brother? He loves you too. He’s like no age or something. Like ZERO years old, but he loves you. I’ll get him to dribble on the paper here for you when I get home.
    You’re making me nervous by being so weird.
    But your weirdness is what I like about you.
    Seb

    Dear Seb
    Actually, I think it’s fairly common for people not to like being called deceptive and a snake and a non-team player who never hits the ball with their head or whatever that soccer crap was about hand balls and messing up my hair—and you say I’m the one who talks like a crazy person?
    It’s actually not ‘weird’ or ‘freakish’ at all. To stop writing after being insulted.
    And it doesn’t make it okay that on the next page you said you were in love with me. You wanted me to let you know when I was being serious.