Chapter 0.01
It wasn’t like Cassandra Goth didn’t like school. School was, in and of itself, okay. It was everyone else that went to school. Everyone knew of Bella Goth, Cassandra’s mother. She was a big name anywhere you went, a household name by most stretches of the imagination (rarely had Cassandra met anyone that didn’t know her mother’s name at the very least). Some seemed disappointed that Cassandra seemingly wasn’t as pretty as her mother, and a lot of the time, Cassandra was disappointed, too.
The other kids always said she’d be prettier if she wore less black. What was wrong with black?
School was necessary, though, so Cassandra still went, and still dealt with the football-heads with nothing better to do than hang around the hallways like creeps and make weird, unwarranted comments about everyone’s appearance, and the homecoming and prom queens often gossiped in the bathroom, and someone kept writing borderline-bullying propaganda on the bathroom stalls. High school was one of those situations that was unavoidable but you’d just rather not think about.
Her father, Mortimer Goth, was also a well-known name. The Goth family in general was well-known; most people knew the last name, because it had weight around here. Simadonia was full of mention of so and so Goth that did such and such magnificent thing. Mortimer was an eccentric but well-liked author, Bella was a former model and fashion icon, and Cassandra?
She was just trying to pass biology.
Tired and frustrated, Cassandra trudged in the front door and set her book-bag down by the dining room table. Strangely, though, there was a wrapped box on the table. Cassandra sat down in a chair. Not a minute or two later, Bella sashayed into the room and settled down. “Oh, look at this!” she said, tucking one leg under the other. Bella was so lady-like and refined. Cassandra was lucky if she could prevent herself from slurping her soup. “I wonder what this is!”
Cassandra couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though in an amused and light-hearted manner, as her mother reached across the table to the box and pulled the tag off. She used to do that for Winterfest when Cassandra was younger. It was delightful then. Now, it was kind of endearingly annoying. Was that a way to say it?
“For one Cassandra Goth,” Bella read, quirking one eyebrow up like it was a gift from some secret admirer that definitely didn’t exist, and setting the tag down on the table. “You should open it and see what it is!”
Cassandra snorted slightly, but she sat up and pulled the box towards her. It was wrapped in that neat way that let her just take the lid off the box instead of tearing into wrapping paper. (It was such a waste of paper.) She wiggled the lid off, and moved the tissue paper inside out of the way. Nestled in the paper, a nice lilac colour, was a book. It looked to be a small, leather-bound book, and once Cassandra took the book out of the box, she saw the shimmery multicoloured owl embedded on the cover. Tucked into the tissue paper beside the book was a brand new fountain pen and a set of pen nibs.
“What’s this?” she asked, admiring the book’s binding, running her fingers over the owl.
“It’s a journal,” Bella answered, her tone now lacking the faux surprise she’d had for a bit. “The teenage years are some of the hardest of your life, Cassandra. You’ll appreciate a private place to write down your thoughts. Sometimes just writing it down helps you analyse it a little, and it’s good to get frustrations out in manageable ways. You know I’m always here to listen, but if you need to listen to yourself, journaling is absolutely good for that.” Bella took a sip of whatever was in the mug that was in front of her. Knowing her, Cassandra was guessing it was chamomile tea.
“I guess that sounds fun,” Cassandra answered. “I just don’t know what to write.” That was a tough choice.
“Whatever pops into that pretty head of yours,” Bella answered. “Just tell your future self all the stories of what happens day to day. It’s a good place to start, and once you get into a rhythm, the hang of it so to speak, it’ll come naturally. And someday, you’ll be glad you’ve got the reference material. You might have kids of your own, and it’s never a good idea to forget what it was to be a child. It’s a very unique experience.”
Cassandra released a breath, softly, opening the book and flipping through the blank pages. Some had beautiful designs in the corners; others lacked any embellishment at all. The lines were soft and a slightly darkened gold, showing just enough to be visible against the creamy beige pages. The paper was soft to the touch, no trace of grainy texture, and smelled just slightly of musk and maybe vanilla alongside that tell-tale new paper smell.
Cassandra loved that smell.
“I can try,” Cassandra decided. “I can try to remember to write in it.”
“Yes you can,” Bella replied. “So, how did school go?”
Cassandra loosed another snort, setting the book and pen carefully into her book bag. Bella reached over and folded the box and tissue paper up, storing it in one of the drawers to be used again probably for Winterfest. “It went,” Cassandra replied.
“That’s it?” Bella asked.
“I’ve still not made any friends, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cassandra said.
Bella looked a little upset at that, but she smiled. “That’s okay,” she said. “There’s always tomorrow.” Bella took her cup of presumably-chamomile-tea off the table, holding it in both hands. “Welcome home, by the way,” she said. “Remember to do your homework. Oh, your father’s going to be late today,” Bella mentioned, as she headed into the hallway. “He’s got a meeting with the editors.”
Yes, of course he did. Cassandra shook her head, but then she reached into her book bag, pulling the owl journal out to admire it. She should do her homework first, but maybe she’d start writing in this book today.
* * *
Before they had a butler in the house, Bella had tried to cook one time. She only got that one time, and then Mortimer had hired a butler because Bella had set herself on fire. Cassandra was young at the time, too young to use a stove. Cassandra still wondered what had happened to that butler, but he’d been kind enough to teach her some things about using stoves. Since Bella still couldn’t cook very well, and Cassandra wasn’t interested in another house fire any time soon, she picked up the task of making meals.
If she remembered right, we set this in here like that, and then sprinkled on a dash of that… she remembered, just barely. Cassandra shuffled around the kitchen, putting together everything she’d need to make eggs and toast. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, because ideally it gave you the energy you’d need to make it through. It was important that Alexander got a good start to the day, and hopefully their parents also did. Cassandra wasn’t terribly concerned about herself, mind. She was fine skipping breakfast if she needed to.
Alexander had a bad habit of not going to sleep, and instead trying to nap his way through getting enough sleep, though, and Cassandra didn’t think he needed another bad habit.
Somewhere amid flipping the eggs, she heard tinkling to one side of her. A quick glance over there told her Alexander had come in with a stack of dishes. She smiled a little. “Good morning, Alex,” she greeted.
“Morning Cassie,” he replied, setting the dishes in the sink and turning the water on.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I’d have gotten it.”
Alexander giggled. “I know that silly,” he replied. “But you’re busy making breakfast. It’s fair, right? If you make breakfast and I do the dishes?”
Cassandra smiled. “I suppose so, kiddo.”
“I haven’t been kiddo in a long time, Cass,” Alexander grumbled, setting the freshly-washed dishes in the strainer by the sink.
Cassandra smiled again. “You’ll always be kiddo to me,” she said. “How’s school going?”
“Alright,” Alexander answered. He went around her with a clean stack of dishes to set the table. He was always doing thoughtful things like that. That was why he and Cassandra never got into a notable fight, even though siblings were supposed to fight a lot. That was just never true for them, and Cassandra was glad for it. She didn’t want to always be getting into a fight with him anyway. “I’m going to the park after school today,” Alexander said. “Some of the kids from school want to hang out.”
“Well, that sounds fun,” Cassandra answered, reaching over and putting the slices of bread into the toaster. She pushed the lever down. Alexander was even better at going to school than she was. He did his homework in no time, and seemed to be making friends well enough. Cassandra still didn’t have any friends, not really. Most of the people she went to school with were too immature for her liking, though most of them seemed to like her well enough.
Cassandra always did wonder if they really liked her, or if they were just fond of her family’s name, because that seemed to be most everyone’s motivations. She’d learned a long time ago to get used to that. That was just how it was going to be.
Alexander peered at his sister. She was being strange about it, but he thought he remembered someone saying she didn’t have many friends at school. Alexander had a couple of them, kids he liked to spend time with because they weren’t annoying mostly. But Cassandra never came home with anyone else, never talked about her friends or their plans. Didn’t she have some? He thought for a moment, going back to setting the table. He was almost done.
“Yeah,” he said. “But kind of scary. I don’t know a lot of kids, and it’s sometimes hard to make friends. How do you do it?” Maybe if she thought she was giving him advice, she’d come up with something. Cassandra didn’t like to make waves. He thought things were probably kind of hard at home when she was younger, because she was one of the most selfless people he knew. She rarely ever expressed discontent of any kind, and very rarely thought of herself. He liked that about her. She never seemed to have weird motivations, and she genuinely cared about other people.
Cassandra looked surprised. She thought he was doing okay making friends. He sure had a lot of them, but it was admittedly touching that he’d thought to ask her. She wasn’t the best at making friends, though. As she scooted the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate, the toaster popped. She reached over and took the hot toast out of the toaster, spreading butter on one side and setting the toast onto the plate.
“Well, maybe try seeing if you and the other kids have anything in common,” Cassandra suggested. “Mutual hobbies are good things to break the ice with.” It certainly couldn’t hurt any. “And some kids are really shy,” she went on. “Maybe you could ask some of the other kids if they’d like to play with you first.”
“Yeah, some people are really shy,” Alexander agreed. Cassandra counted as really shy, he thought. She liked to keep to herself, rather than put herself out there. He didn’t know why. She was a great person! Didn’t she know that? It was so strange to him that he didn’t seem to know that. Maybe somebody had told her she wasn’t! That was rude! Alexander would find that person and rip up their homework for sure! Not that she’d ever said anything about someone saying things like that. Maybe it wasn’t a person saying it. It wasn’t like he knew, and he probably couldn’t ask. He didn’t expect she’d tell him the truth.
“Maybe you could try it too,” Alexander suggested.
Cassandra was surprised. She’d tried not to let any of that show, but it was kind of him to care. He must’ve noticed her struggling with making friends. It wasn’t like Cassandra would admit that it bothered her, nor was she interested in asking her little brother for advice on how to make friends. Bella didn’t seem to know, just did it naturally, and Mortimer also didn’t seem to know. He didn’t really have any either. It seemed Alexander had noticed her struggles and decided to trick her into giving herself advice.
He was a smart kid, she had to give him that. Way smarter than she was, for sure.
“Yeah, I suppose I can,” Cassandra agreed. “Thanks kiddo.”
“Seriously, Cass!” Alexander huffed.
Cassandra giggled, handing him a plate of eggs and toast. Alexander marched off to the dining room, and Cassandra followed not far behind. Where would people she got along with hang out, anyway? She supposed it was time to find out.
* * *
While Alexander’s advice had been relatively sound (well, it was her advice, technically), it didn’t seem to be working out in her favour just yet. If the other students didn’t find her intimidating because of her name, they thought she was intimidating because of how quiet she was. It was either that or they found her annoying, or had some weird idea that she was a snob (that, ladies and gentlemen, would be Malcolm Landgraab, not Cassandra Goth). It was what it was. She supposed there just wasn’t anything for that. People tended to fear, or dislike, what they didn’t understand, and it was notably difficult to understand the eccentric group that the Goth family was. Cassandra was under no illusions whatsoever about it. Her family was strange; it was known.
Once she got home from school, she settled into a seat at the dining room table, pulling her homework for the day out. It was science homework, one of Cassandra’s favourite subjects. She enjoyed talk about the cosmos, but it seemed they didn’t really know much about the cosmos anymore. It was a shame, but it was also understandable. They had so many things to discover. Supposedly, though, someone had finally greated a wormhole generator and managed to travel beyond the known star system. That was beyond exciting!
The door opened and closed, and then a loud thunk was heard. Cassandra leaned back in the chair, looking around the archway to see who had just come in. The groaning sound was feminine. Ah, that was her mother.
“Welcome home,” Cassandra greeted.
Bella grunted again. “Thank you,” she said, and shuffled around the corner. A slight tapping was heard as she took her heels off and tossed them into the hall closet, then she came into the dining room. “How was school today?”
Cassandra made a tisking sound. “I survived at least,” she answered. “We had a pop quiz today, and it wasn’t easy but I did pass it, and now that class is mad at me.”
“Well, that happens,” Bella answered, settling down into a seat. “People tend to be jealous of people with abilities they don’t have.”
“It’s not that impressive,” Cassandra said, sinking into her seat a little. “All I did was study.”
“Good study habits are harder to keep to than they sound like, Cassie,” Bella assured. “I’d say ask your father, but he’s eccentric enough, he figured out an unconventional way of managing it.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Cassandra answered.
“You probably shouldn’t,” Bella said. She tossed her handbag into the chair beside her, and Cassandra finally thought to herself, why not.
“How was your day?” she asked.
Bella scrunched her nose. “Someone set something on fire that isn’t supposed to be burned,” she said, “but all in all, it was an okay day.”
“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” Cassandra said, just stating her observations. Bella was relatively easy to read. If she was in a bad mood, if you knew what to look for, it wasn’t difficult to pin-point it. Cassandra always appreciated that her mother sort of wore her heart on her sleeve. It made figuring out what to say and such ultimately much easier, and it thus made it easier to get along with her mother. Not to say Bella was hard to get along with, no. It just took some of the guess work out of it all, and Cassandra couldn’t say she had a particular fondness for flailing gracelessly.
Bella snorted derisively. “That one’s for your father to worry about,” Bella answered.
Ah. Bella was a hopeless romantic type, and enjoyed the romancing and the wooing. Usually, Mortimer had no trouble keeping up with it, but he’d been particularly busy dealing with his book editors regarding his latest novel. If Cassandra remembered rightly, he had a very solid idea of what he wanted to do with the book, but his editors didn’t like his ideas and shot them down, telling him that he needed to change his book’s direction. It had something to do with its marketability. His publisher didn’t think it would be easy to sell it. Mortimer was adamant of otherwise, but the end result was they’ve been in ‘talks’ for weeks; and by talks, everyone knew they meant arguments.
“I see,” Cassandra replied. Yeah, maybe she should just stay out of that one. She pondered something else to talk about. “Alexander gave me some decent advice this morning,” she said.
“Did he?” Bella asked, reaching around behind herself to put a book back onto the shelf.
“I’ve been having trouble making friends,” Cassandra explained. “Alexander seems to be doing okay with it, and I guess he wanted to share the success. So he tricked me into inadvertently giving myself advice.” Cassandra had to laugh at it. He was a smart kid, and she thought he was going to live up to the Goth name effortlessly. Cassandra would have to work at it.
“Well, did you follow it?” Bella asked.
“I’m trying to, yes,” Cassandra replied. “I’m not entirely sure where to find people I might get along with.”
“You’re a very personable individual, Cassandra,” Bella said. “You could get along with the Grim Reaper I’d think.”
Cassandra laughed. “I’m not sure how to take that, mom,” she said.
“It’s a proverb from the old world,” Bella answered. “It means that you don’t make a lot of fight over pointless things. There are those that would get along with the Reaper, and those that would put up the futile effort of fighting with him. You’re the former.”
For a moment, Cassandra wasn’t sure if that was right, but maybe it was. She just always figured there wasn’t any sense in making a big fuss about some things. All that energy could be channelled into something more useful very easily.
Someday, she was sure, she’d find out what she’d do. In the interim, maybe her mother was right, and she could try and make friends just about anywhere.
