Cassie (19 page)

My name is Holly Holley and I dream I am surrounded by faces.

Boys. With pitted skin and foul breath. Right up close, one face swims into my vision then drifts away to be replaced by another. I can see their mouths twist, hateful words streaming into the air. My chest is tight, blood drums in my ears. They are pushing me, insistent hands against arms and shoulders. I try to turn away, but I can't move.

‘Holly? Holly, love?'

I sit up straight in bed as if jolted by an electric shock. A thin sheen of sweat is clammy on my face. Aunty Fern sits on the edge of the bed, her hand against my shoulder. The room is dark, the dim light of a distant street lamp seeps through my curtains. The green numerals on the alarm clock show eleven-thirty. I blink and swallow. My throat is dry.

‘Holly, I am so sorry to wake you,' says Aunty Fern.

‘What's the matter?' I croak.

‘Cassie. She's the matter. She wants to see you.'

I rub at my eyes. My brain feels sluggish.

‘What? Now?'

Fern sighs.

‘Apparently. I told her it was late. I told her you were asleep. I told her I wouldn't wake you up and that whatever it was could wait till morning. But I might as well have been whistling in the wind. She says she has to see you and it has to be now.'

I swing my legs out of bed while she talks.

‘She's spent at least twenty hours working on that computer. It's crazy. It's obsessive. I am so sorry, Holly.'

‘Don't worry, Aunty Fern,' I say, pulling on my dressing gown. ‘I'm curious.' My brain is finally starting to kick off its covers.

‘Me, too. And your mother. But that's not a good enough reason to wake you. And I wouldn't have, but . . . well, she can be a little brat sometimes, can our Cass. She was on the point of screaming and that's never pretty, especially this close to midnight. I hate giving in to her like this, but . . .'

‘Seriously. It's okay.'

She follows as I make my way along the short corridor to my old bedroom. A patch of light through the open door shows the way. Mum is already in there, sitting on the bed. Cassie is in her wheelchair facing the glowing monitor. She turns her head as we come in, smiles and makes a low, crooning sound.

‘Right, she-who-must-be-obeyed,' says Aunty Fern. ‘Here we all are, at your orders. But I tell you, missie, this had better be important.'

Cassie smiles even wider and turns back to the monitor. I move close to her left shoulder, Aunty Fern right behind me. Mum is forced to kneel on the bed, looking over Cass's other shoulder. The screen is filled with graphics and icons, but I don't recognise any of them. Whatever the program is, it isn't something I've seen before.

The room is hushed. It's like Cassie is gathering herself. I can almost feel her concentration, like a solid weight in the air. It presses her shoulders down. Slowly, very slowly, Cass's head stops moving. I think it's the first time I've seen her head completely at rest. A cursor appears in the bottom right of the screen, moves gradually to a row of icons at the top. It rests on one for a moment, then moves away and back again. The icon turns grey.

I realise I'm holding my breath when I start to feel dizzy. I let the air out of my lungs slowly, not wanting to disturb the quiet. The tension thickens as the cursor moves again, slides off to the side for a moment and then steadies. None of Cassie's muscles move. She's still as stone. The cursor creeps again, brushes one icon before settling on another. For less than a second it stays there and then a new window opens. It fills the screen. A faint hiss fills the air. Then a line moves across the monitor. A voice issues from the speakers. It is a strong voice, young and female. It surrounds us, the words crystal clear. They float through the bedroom.

I love your dress, your hair. I love your wings. Fly, Holly. Fly
as high as you dare.

The words are on a loop. They unravel again, around and around. Cassie turns her head and looks at me. She smiles through her exhaustion. For a little while, there is nothing to disturb the words spiralling through the dark. Then Aunty Fern starts to cry. Her muffled sobs mingle with the voice's beat.

I meet Cassie's eyes. A lump blocks my throat and my vision is blurred. I try to understand the work that has gone into this. But it is beyond understanding. I don't know much. About anything. But, I do know two things.

It's the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

I don't deserve it.

9

Holly

When Holly entered the girls' toilets, it was with a sense of déjà vu. Demi was standing in front of the mirror, flanked by Kari and Georgia. She applied a small amount of mascara. The school frowned upon make-up, but Demi, as always, was an exception. Provided she kept it subtle, no one would say anything.

Holly moved to the side and tried to find a patch of mirror that wasn't too tarnished. She had some work to do on her hair.

‘Hey, Holly,' said Demi, pursing her lips and looking critically at her reflection. ‘Good weekend?'

‘Okay.'

‘Try on all your new clothes?'

‘Some.'

‘I tell you,' said Demi, stepping back from the mirror. ‘That was so much fun. You scrub up well, girlfriend. If I have to say so myself, I think we achieved a remarkable transformation.

From Dag to Doll. And . . . there is so much more potential to fulfil. You're a work in progress.'

Holly said nothing. She rubbed a small amount of wax into her hands and squinted into the mirror.

‘We were thinking of going back to Westland tomorrow after school,' said Kari. ‘Do you want to tag along?'

Holly spiked her hair with waxy fingers. She couldn't see very well. The one good piece of mirror was now vacant, but she didn't want to use it. So she made do with the fractured self that flickered before her.

‘Can I ask you something?' she said.

‘Sure,' said Demi.

‘Aren't you guys well off? Your parents, I mean.'

Demi considered for a moment.

‘Well,' she said. ‘It's all relative, I guess. Kari's parents are pretty loaded, it has to be said. Off to Europe every year. As for me and Georgia, we're not in that league, but we're definitely what you call comfortable.'

‘So it's not like you can't afford new clothes?'

The other girls laughed.

‘I see,' said Demi. ‘You're wondering why we . . . shop the way we do. When we could use a credit card. You don't understand, do you?'

Holly said nothing.

‘Explain it to her, Kari.'

Kari folded her arms.

‘It's like extreme sports,' she said. ‘Base jumping, or hang-gliding. Things like that. Most people are happy to stay on the ground, do the safe stuff, avoid risks. We are not most people. We want the adrenaline rush, the danger.'

‘Not that there's much of a rush anymore,' chipped in Georgia.

‘No,' admitted Kari. ‘Not now. We're too good at it. But, in the beginning, it was fun. Working out how to beat the security. But Georgia's right. Now it's too easy. Maybe we need a new challenge.'

‘Get out of our comfort zone,' said Demi.

‘Exactly.'

‘So you see, Holly,' continued Demi. ‘It's all about taking chances. Kari's analogy was a good one. Hang-gliding. I like that. There's always the danger of crashing and burning, but if you have faith in your equipment, and the skill to use it, then you can soar. What do you reckon, Holly? Do you want to fly with us? Want to earn your wings?'

The bell rang for first lesson.

‘I've got English,' said Holly. ‘I'll catch you later.'

Fern

‘Unbelievable,' said Greg Adams. ‘Absolutely unbelievable.'

He crouched closer to the laptop, opened a few files, and shook his head. Cassie had gone off with her support worker to English and he and Fern were alone in the computer room. ‘How long did you say it took her to do this?'

‘I'm not sure exactly. She spent quite a bit of Saturday on the hearts program. Practicing for this, I imagine. But . . . I don't know. At least twenty hours.'

‘Unbelievable.' Greg clicked the mouse and the words rolled out of the speaker. Fern couldn't hear them without tears pricking at the back of her eyes. They listened as the loop ran through five times, then Greg shut it down. He ruffled his hands through his hair.

‘It's the strangest thing,' said Fern. ‘I listen to it and I can't get rid of the feeling that it's really her voice. Cassie's. A voice I've never heard. A voice I never thought I'd hear.'

‘Yes,' said Greg. ‘Realtalk. It's an excellent program, that's for sure.'

Fern resisted the temptation to tell him that wasn't what she meant.

‘But,' he continued, ‘I would never have thought she could have done all this in such a short space of time. To be honest, I didn't know if she would ever manage it. Maybe in a couple of months, after lots of hard work. Cassie must have been desperate to communicate this. What does it mean, by the way? The wings and flying?'

‘It's personal,' said Fern.

Greg nodded.

‘But I'm worried she'll overdo it,' Fern added. ‘This took an enormous amount of time and energy. She was so tired I wanted to keep her home today. Of course, she was having none of that. You're probably beginning to realise how determined she is.'

‘Absolutely,' said Greg. ‘This is phenomenal progress, but you're quite right. We don't want her to burn out. How about if I keep the laptop for today? Let her take it home some evenings, but not at weekends. I'll explain to her why. And, in the meantime, we'll build on her progress in school time. She'll see the sense in that.'

Fern wasn't convinced.

‘Good luck,' she said.

At recess Amy sat by herself on the bench close to the basketball court. She had her science book open, but she wasn't paying much attention to it. True, her head was bowed over the open pages, but she was scanning the schoolyard out of the corners of her eyes. Her mind, for once, wasn't on science.

When Holly appeared, Amy's heart jumped a little, but she didn't look up. She tracked her, though, picking her out as she walked past the throngs of kids, playing footy or just standing around chatting. By the time Holly sat down on the bench next to her, Amy thought her heartbeat must be audible to anyone in a twenty-metre radius. She didn't say anything, didn't raise her head from the book. They sat in uncomfortable silence.

‘I like your hair,' said Amy, finally.

‘Thanks.'

Amy closed her book, but she still didn't look directly at Holly.

‘I had to tell her you wagged maths,' she said. ‘I had no choice. Your mum was there on my doorstep and she was really upset. I had to. I didn't want to. I swear.' She moved her hands around, as if trying to pluck the right words out of thin air. Then she dropped them to her side. ‘I had to,' she whispered.