Finding Cassie Crazy (35 page)

Hey Seb
If we're not writing to each other—if we're just kissing and stuff—then why should it be me? Why shouldn't it be any other girl?
Lyd

Lyd
You're not making sense.

I love your letters and I want you to keep writing them, if you want to. But you can't kiss a girl made out of ink and paper. Let's hang out together. Let's talk on the phone.

You have to realise that boys don't write. Girls write. Boys don't.

Seb

Hey Seb
Boys don't write, eh? You might want to mention that to
William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens etc. I get the feeling they're boys.

Wait a minute, I get it. Boys don't write unless they can show that they're better at it than girls are.

Is that what you mean?

Can you tell me something? Did you see a photo of me before we ever saw each other? Is that how you knew it was me in the Blue Danish?

Lyd

Lydia
You keep asking me that. I didn't cheat on the task, Lyd.

But I looked up your phone number yesterday. Maybe I'll call you tonight. You want to kick a soccer ball around on the weekend? This letter can give us permission.

Love
Seb

Seb
Em told me yesterday that you and Charlie found a photo of me in a magazine when you first got my letter last term.

So I guess you knew what I looked like before you saw me.

So I guess you've been lying to me every time I've asked about that. I thought I'd just give you one last chance. But you lied to me again.

I guess I know what kind of a guy you are—the kind
who's only interested in what a girl looks like. Not in what she says.

Lydia

Dear Lydia
Okay, I get where you're coming from. I get it: you hate lies and you think the world is evil like a rotten potato, and now you think I'm part of the evil. I see how you might think that.

But listen, Lydia, you're thinking wrong. I'm not part of the evil: everything else I've said to you is true. You were the one who suggested the competition where we had to recognise the other one first—how could I not use my advantage? And then I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to be mad. But trust me, it was just messing around.

No offence, but it's not like you're full of the truth yourself. You go on about your parents fighting in the Breakfast Pyramid and then we hear that your dad's getting your room painted for you, and your mum's kicking back with you and a couple of lamingtons, not to mention driving you around the neighbourhood. (And now I've had about three conversations with your mum trying to call you and she seems like a good person, by the way.)

Anyhow, why did Emily have to tell you about it? There are too many words coming out of girls' mouths. Why do girls have to talk so much?

Love
Seb

Seb
No, you're right, this is all Emily's fault. All the words coming out of her mouth.

Just for your information, she found out about this a few weeks ago and only told me now because she's got a broken heart and isn't thinking clearly.

And don't suggest that I'm as deceptive as you. Maybe I tell stories about my parents in a dramatic way, but that's poetic licence. You lied to me.

Lydia

Lyd
Poetic licence, was it? Guess what, I've got one of them too. I picked one up when I was down at the RTA getting my learner's permit. So we're both allowed to exaggerate.

Come on, Lyd. Get over it. You're so into game playing you forget what real life is. Get some perspective.

Love
Seb

Seb
In relation to ‘game playing', could I just remind you that you started the games? Remember last term when you needed me to prove I could be
trusted
by passing your
tests
, which meant doing things to get you out of exams?

I think we should stop writing, okay?

Lydia

Lydia
Please stop calling yourself ‘Lydia'. What happened to Lyd? PLEASE DON'T STOP writing to me. I'm SORRY SORRY SORRY. Charlie tells me he and Em have stopped writing now, so I can't even get him to lobby her on my behalf. It's all falling apart. Are you mad at me because I keep ringing? I'll stop, if you promise to write back to me.

I'll write ten-page letters if you like. I'll keep doing assignments. I'll do anything you want. I just want to touch your face again, I just want to see you chalking a cue and narrowing your eyes at the pool table.

Love
Seb