Cassie (9 page)

‘I understood this
was
a special school,' replied Fern. ‘I wouldn't consider sending Cassie anywhere that wasn't.'

There was silence.

‘Look,' said Fern. ‘Cassie has physical limitations, but in every other regard she's a normal student. And, intellectually, she is gifted. You've assured me this school has wheelchair access to all classrooms. Trust me, that's all the “special” she needs.'

‘Forgive me, Mrs Marshall,' said the principal. ‘But it is my understanding that Cassie is unable to communicate, either orally or in writing. Other students write essays, give oral presentations. If Cassie cannot complete assignments, how can we assess her?'

Fern took two glasses, filled them from the water carafe in the centre of the table and lifted one to Cassie's lips. She took a tissue from her bag and dabbed at Cassie's mouth. Then she sipped from her own glass. She was pleased her hands did not shake. She reached down into her bag, produced a large ring binder and placed it on the table.

‘How can you assess her work?' she said. ‘Mr Wilson, let Cassie educate you.'

Holly

Holly sat at her normal place – the bench closest to the basketball court. She hadn't spotted Raph, but he'd be along soon. A lunchtime hardly went by without Raph practising his slam dunk. On good days, he would take off his shirt. Holly was hoping for a good day.

Amy sat next to her, reading from a science text book, and eating a sausage roll. She had a science test right after lunch. This made it a good Amy day.

‘Did I tell you I saw Raph at the cinema yesterday?' said Holly.

‘Only six times,' said Amy.

‘I think he likes me.'

‘Raph likes Raph. When he looks in the mirror, it's not infatuation. It's the real thing.'

Holly took another mouthful of Fern's spaghetti carbonara. She had persuaded her English teacher to heat it in the staff microwave at the end of last lesson. It was delicious. The only positive of having guests, as far as Holly could tell, was that dinner times might cease to be exercises in culinary torture.

‘How are you getting on with Cassie?' asked Amy.

‘Okay, I guess. It's just that it's … well, hard, you know? To communicate, I mean. Hey, do you reckon there are many calories in spaghetti carbonara?'

Amy glanced at the plastic container.

‘What? Bacon, cream and pasta? Just the odd squillion.'

Holly digested this along with the carbonara. Maybe it wasn't a great idea to pass the chef's hat on to Aunty Fern. A few months of this cooking and she'd balloon even further. They could paint slogans on her stomach and float her over major sporting venues for advertising purposes. At least lentils were basically calorie-free. Of course, they were also taste-free. It was a delicate balance.

‘I did some research last night on cerebral palsy,' said Amy.

‘Oh yeah?'

‘It's really interesting. And I assume I'm going to meet Cassie at some stage, so I …'

‘Raph's coming.'

Amy grimaced. Holly sat up straighter. Raphael McDonald was strolling towards the basketball court, spinning a ball on his index finger and chatting to a couple of mates. He was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a singlet that showed off well-developed biceps. His legs were good. Surely Amy could see that. And she knew about sports science and the number of hours needed in the gym to develop that kind of physique. So she should at least respect him for his commitment.

Holly sighed.

Amy sighed and turned back to her text book.

‘Aren't his legs fabulous?' said Holly.

‘Well, he's got the right number,' said Amy.

‘And look at those shoulders. Couldn't you just nibble on those for a few hours?'

‘No. I've had a sausage roll. Look, Holly, do you want to hear what I learned about cerebral palsy?'

‘Look at him, Amy! He's all muscle, hard and toned. I reckon you could crack fleas on that butt.'

‘Holly!'

‘Oh, sorry. Yes, go on. Tell me about cerebral palsy.'

‘Well, it's a condition that affects the way the brain controls the muscles of the body. It's incurable and …'

But Holly turned away. Amy followed the direction of

Holly's gaze. Demi and two of her hangers on were making a bee line straight for the bench.

Fern

Fern opened the binder and turned it so the pages could be seen around the table.

‘These are assignments Cassie did last term, at her high school in Darwin,' she said. ‘Everything in here is her own work. This Health project has articles, diagrams, posters – all completed by Cassie. This interactive CD, including its cover, was designed by Cassie and all decisions regarding content and style were hers.' Fern paused. ‘Cassie doesn't have the motor skills to physically compile such work, so she had an Inclusion Support Assistant who worked enormously hard alongside her.'

Fern slipped a page from the binder.

‘This poster is composed of over one hundred decisions. The size of the paper, its orientation, colour. Which pictures to use, where they should go on the page. The words themselves, the font, the font size, the colours. The list goes on. Cassie chose everything. One decision at a time. This poster took fifteen hours of solid work. Some people might argue this is not her work because she didn't physically manipulate it. That's rubbish. This is Cassie's vision, presented so others can share it. It's her hard work.'

Mr Wilson squinted at the poster. He passed it to a woman on his right and flicked through the rest of the pages in the ring binder.

Fern took another sip of water. Cassie caught her mother's eyes and smiled. Her hand brushed Fern's arm.

‘Thanks, sweetheart,' whispered Fern.

Mr Wilson pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

‘I must say, Mrs Marshall,' he said. ‘You have spoken very persuasively. I think I speak on behalf of everyone here when I say we would be delighted to enrol Cassie. Congratulations.'

Cassie shrieked, causing one or two people around the table to jump.

Cassie

It is funny. They can't read the words people don't say. Mum's
thoughts are mine. They march across the inside of my head. And
she can read me.

I cannot go to a school where I cannot be seen. No one has even
looked at me. No one.

Fern

Fern opened her mouth. Her words stopped in her throat when the door opened and a small man in his mid-thirties bustled in. He had a neat beard, long hair and dishevelled clothes. A pile of papers was tucked precariously under his arm.

‘Sorry I'm late,' he said. ‘Please forgive me. I got here as soon as I could.'

‘Ah, Mr Adams,' said the principal, glancing at his watch. ‘Good of you to join us. But I'm afraid our meeting is virtually over. Indeed, we have already offered Cassandra a place at the school.'

Mr Adams shrugged apologetically, and the papers under his arm, delicately balanced, spilled out over the floor. He knelt to gather them up, then placed them onto the table. Still on his knees, he looked up into Cassie's face, smiled and offered his hand.

‘You must be Cassie,' he said. ‘I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Greg and I'm the Special Needs coordinator.' He glanced down at himself and gave a sheepish grin. ‘I hope you don't judge a book by its cover, Cassie. Believe me, I'm not normally this clumsy.'

Fern leaned back into her chair.

The school had just earned itself a second chance.

‘Cassie, I'd like you and your mum to be involved in the selection of an Inclusion Support Assistant,' said Greg. ‘If you accept our offer of a place, that is.'

Fern glanced at Cassie.

‘Cassie would like that,' said Fern. ‘And so would I.'

‘Hi, Holly.'

‘Hi, Demi.'

Kari Williams and Georgia Glasson flanked Demi, but they didn't say anything.

‘I'm so sorry I couldn't make it on Saturday,' said Holly. ‘Did you have fun?'

‘Hey, don't worry,' said Demi. ‘Things happen, you know? How was the evening with the rellies?'

‘Horrible,' said Holly. ‘I would so much have preferred to be with you guys.'

Amy bit her lip and bent her head over the text book.

‘We missed you,' said Demi. ‘And I just wanted to say thanks.'

‘Thanks?'

‘For your invitation on Sunday. I would have loved to have gone to the movies, but I didn't get your message until later in the evening. I hope you found someone to go with.'

‘Oh … yeah.'

‘Well, thanks again. See you around, hey?'

‘Yes. Bye, Demi.'

Holly gave a sidelong glance at Amy, but she was absorbed in her revision.

Holly