Cassie by Barry Jonsberg Page B

coffee. ‘The little toad. She gets me up at some godforsaken hour and then she’s got the nerve to be in a foul mood. I cook her breakfast and she doesn’t want it. Just wants to get on that computer again and burst hearts.’
    â€˜I don’t think I’ve seen Cass in a foul mood. Just those first few minutes, when you arrived, but that was because she was beside herself with tiredness.’
    Fern grimaced.
    â€˜Trust me,’ she said. ‘Angelic Cass has a dark side that blisters paint. When she gets it into her head that she wants something . . . well, watch out. There’s no budging her. And today she wants the computer. So the computer she must have. At six-thirty in the morning.’
    â€˜Heaven help us,’ said Ivy. ‘Two kids with attitudes. Has Holly surfaced yet?’
    â€˜Nope.’
    â€˜Not surprised. Even on a good Saturday she doesn’t get up until twelve. Today, I reckon she’ll stay there all day.’
    â€˜Tell you what, sis,’ said Fern. ‘I’ll have a chat with your devil’s spawn and you have a chat with mine. Aunts have an advantage over mums. Generally speaking they don’t have 666 tattooed on their foreheads.’
    â€˜Maybe not, but I’ve got a relief map of the Great Dividing Range tattooed on mine. Have you ever seen so many worry lines on one face?’
    â€˜Not since I last looked in the mirror.’
    Cassie
    My head and neck are on fire. Small sparks of pain scatter, glow and burn.
    Sixteen minutes before the hearts have gone.
    Slow.
    Yesterday I did it in twelve.
    I must let my muscles unwind and flow. They are too tight and it is in the core of tightness that fire blossoms. But it is fragile, brittle, this control. Relax the tightness and chaos spreads, my body twitched and tugged by outside forces.
    I pour myself into the cursor. I wind my will up tighter. I ignore the spot fires in my neck.
    All is quiet.

    There was a knock on Cassie’s bedroom door, immediately followed by Ivy’s head poking around it.
    â€˜Hello, poppet,’ she said. ‘Mind if I come in?’
    Cassie’s head turned.
    â€˜What are you up to?’ said Ivy. ‘Is it okay if I watch?’
    She sat on the edge of the bed, just to the left of Cassie’s wheelchair. The computer was on a short chest of drawers. The height wasn’t quite right, but Fern had put a couple of pillows under Cass’s bottom to align her as closely as possible.
    Ivy watched as the cursor circled slowly in the centre of the screen.
    Beads of sweat stood on Cassie’s brow as she brought the cursor to a box at the top of the screen where there were six small windows, each containing various icons. Cass positioned hers on a double icon, slowly took the cursor away and then put it back in exactly the same place. The window turned grey.
    She then moved the cursor to an icon at the bottom of the screen. Although positioned slightly off centre, it nonetheless opened the program. Eighteen hearts, in three neat rows, appeared. Cassie took a deep breath and willed the cursor to the first heart.
    â€˜That is terrific, Cassie,’ said Ivy. ‘I see what you’re doing. Isn’t that clever?’
    Cass’s head twisted and the cursor slid off the screen.
    â€˜Oh dear,’ said Ivy. ‘You don’t want to overdo it, poppet. Maybe you should give it a break.’
    Cassie’s head jerked and thumped against the neck brace of the wheelchair. One arm thrashed. Slowly, she gathered herself, faced the monitor again. Her body quietened. The cursor blinked once at the edge of the screen, disappeared then reappeared. The silence in the room gathered, became almost a palpable presence. The cursor inched towards a heart.
    â€˜How about a drive somewhere?’ said Ivy.
    Cassie howled. She shrieked and rolled her head. Hands flung themselves to the side, knocked the sensor from the top of the monitor, tore the lead