Letters To Cassidy

Chapter 1

Copyright © 2013 Vivian Koleoso

All rights reserved.

This story ‘Letters To Cassidy’ including all chapter, prologues/epilogues and associated content, is copyrighted under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988. All rights are reserved by the owner and creator of this work (V. Koleoso) and any unauthorised copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright.  

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It was mid-autumn when April Morton committed suicide. The wind blew violently outside, the leaves created a whirlwind, the branches tapped on the thin glass windows, with the same eloquence a tap dancer would have. My fingers brushed along the wooden table, my eyes staring expressionlessly at the sheet in front of me. I glanced around at my other classmates, all furiously scribbling onto their sheets answering the question that I’d been deliberating on for most of the lesson. What is life? Tap. Tap. Tap. The branches continued to rap on the window as I continued to think. Tap. Tap. Tap. This time the tapping didn’t come from the window, it came from the door of our classroom, relieved to find something else to concentrate on, I watched our biology teacher, Mrs Yates, briskly stand up from her Sudoku and step outside. The class immediately burst out into hushed whispers, undoubtedly trying to help each other out with the assessment. I however, watched curiously through the window in the door, as Mrs Yates threw a hand to her mouth and nodded stiffly. The classroom’s chatter came to an abrupt stop when Ms Yates re-entered.

“Class, can I please have your attention” heads snapped up at the sound of her fragile voice. The usual cheeriness had disappeared, and that’s when I knew there was something serious about to be said.

“We have heard a report, that one of our finest students has been believed to have taken her own life” gasps broke through the air, and my face grew pale.

“April Morton” it was the name that had my heart stop for a brief second. It was the name that caused my world to still, my eyes to glaze over and fill with tears.

“We just want you to know; that the school counsellor is there for anyone who needs her” she glanced around briefly, her eyes staying on me longer than necessary “You may now proceed with your work”.  But I couldn’t. The words on the sheet began to blur, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t understand them.

April was a quiet girl; she had a way about her that made you trust her instantly. I don’t know if it was the way she spoke, quietly with perfect annunciation, or the way she looked as though she couldn’t hurt a fly. She was always alone, she simply walked away when people teased her, she would brush off her trousers when she was tripped, and continue on. She didn’t deserve the treatment she received, and I only realised that now. But what bore into my memory was the look she gave me as I stood by, and watched my friends make her life a living hell. It was a look of sadness, hatred, regret and sympathy. It was a look that said: what happened to our friendship?

The bell rang signalling the end of the lesson, and therefore the assessment. I pushed my seat backwards and fled for the door, not being able to take the atmosphere in the classroom any longer. Voices spoke around me, but I couldn’t place what they were saying. She’s dead. I dropped the contents of my bag, picking them up quickly, dazed. She’s dead. I continued to walk towards the car park, in a trance, my eyes flitting around desperately for my mother’s car.

“Cass!” I felt a hand shake my shoulder, from the urgency in their voice; I guessed it wasn’t the first time they had called my name.

I turned to acknowledge Miriam, her red her messily pulled into a bun, her green eyes piercing mine worriedly.

“Cass, are you okay?”

I forced a smile, my lips barely turning upwards before they dropped “Fine”

She shook her head “You don’t look it”

I felt the irritation prick at me and through clenched teeth repeated “Fine”

She nodded slowly, then stood up right and waited patiently by my side. I turned around to the sound of bustling students, all eager to get home after a long week. It was almost like nothing had happened.

I glimpsed a familiar lock of blonde locks in the crowd, and cursed inwardly as she sashayed towards me.

“Cassandra” she shot me a smile, narrowed her eyes at Miriam, and then turned her attention back to me.

“Tilapia” I tried not to scowl at the smug look on her face, but continued smiling at my “Friend”.

“I received some very sad news in English today” she told me, hands on heart.

“And what’s that?” I heard my voice crack, and saw Tilly’s smile widen.

“I heard that your ex-friend, you know, the freak?” she leaned in closer, as if telling a secret “Topped herself” I felt her minty breath fan my cheek, as she whispered the words. She drew back and cackled, holding her stomach as she did so. My jaw clenched, as I watched her, heartlessly laughing over someone’s death.

“If it hadn’t been for you” I hissed, stepping forward “She would still be alive”

Tilly, all up for confrontation feigned hurt “Well whatever did I do?”

I didn’t answer her, but turned as I spotted a familiar car park in one of the free spaces. Miriam grabbed my arm, pulling me away.

“You were never part of us!” Tilly called after me “You’re just like her, a freak” I attempted to turn round, and to throw spiteful abuse at her, but Miriam’s grip on mine was too firm.

“Hello girls” my mother greeted as we piled into the car.

Miriam smiled “Hey mum”

 I said nothing.

“Miriam sweetie, Andrea’s paying a visit, one of her last by the looks of it”

Miriam nodded “She did say that she’d been coming far too long”. Andrea was Miriam’s social worker. My mother had adopted her after she had found a cleaning job at a foster home. Miriam had had an alcoholic mother, and a father she didn’t know. She moved in with us when she was 12, she had been family ever since.

“Cass, you haven’t said much”

I shrugged “Nothing to say”. But there was plenty to say. I could tell her about how guilty I felt. I could tell her that April had died. I could tell her how angry I was. I could ask her why our father left. I could ask when we could be happy again, when we didn’t have to fake it. But there was a lot left unsaid. And that’s how it was going to be. For now.

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