Chapter 0.02
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One thing Cassandra knew for sure was that she loved to play the violin. And she knew she wanted to write songs on it someday, but she didn’t know if that was what she wanted to do for a living. At the very least, she could use some practice around others, just to gauge how receptive they were to her songs. To that end, she’d picked up her violin, and decided to take Alexander to Magnolia Blossom park.
It was a nice enough day; the weather wasn’t terrible, and the temperature was just about right. Cassandra watched Alexander scurry off to the jungle gyms and such. She smiled to herself, and headed towards the chess tables, and then parked herself off to the side and started playing a concerto.
She would’ve kept playing all day if she had the choice, but they’d come late to begin with, and both had school in the morning. After some time, she realised Alexander was probably getting hungry, so Cassandra stopped playing and used the park’s public grills to make something for them to eat before they left. Somewhere amid her prodding the fruits she had lying on the grill, she heard a familiar voice speaking to her.
“You’re Cassandra Goth, right?” the voice asked.
Cassandra turned to face the speaker, finding none other than Malcolm Landgraab talking to her. Cassandra almost groaned audibly, but she managed to hold it in. Much like the Goth family, the Landgraabs were a well-known name. They were rivals with the Alto family, and the difference between the Landgraabs and Altos, and the Goths, was that the Landgraabs and Altos had things named after them all the time. The Goth family were the founding members of a lot of townships and locales the same as the Landgraabs and Altos. The Goths just didn’t put their name on it all the time, whatever ‘it’ was this time.
Cassandra nodded. “I am.” There was no sense in being rude. Malcolm was a relatively thin boy, with green eyes and messy blond hair. He was cute, really. It was just his attitude that got on Cassandra’s nerves, but as she wasn’t one to make waves, she’d never told him as much. There was no point.
“Did you get cuter recently, or did I just miss it the last time we saw each other?” he asked.
What a way to ask that question. Cassandra shrugged, flipping the plaintains. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “We were pretty young the last time we saw one another.” So to be fair about it, maybe nobody was truly cute to either of them the last time they spoke. Cassandra didn’t really make a habit of hanging around Landgraabs. Or anyone, truth be told, but that was a different story for another day.
“Huh, I guess that’s true,” Malcolm admitted. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Not really,” Cassandra answered.
“Not really?” he asked. “That’s a yes or a no question, though.”
And that was why Cassandra really didn’t care much for him. He had a strange air of superiority that inevitably began to get on her nerves, and considering how patient with everyone else Cassandra could be, it was almost a miracle unto itself. It was, though, consistent. Malcolm was at least always consistently annoying, she supposed she also should give him that much.
“I’m not interested in dating,” she said, as if that answered all of that, and in her mind, there was no reason it shouldn’t. She had no interest in boys. Especially not Malcolm Landgraab.
“You know your family and my family are really important,” he said, his tone still snooty.
“Yes?” Cassandra replied, wondering what he was getting at.
“It’d make sense if our parents would want us to get married later,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “I mean, I can’t marry just anybody.”
Cassandra had to wonder why not. Maybe falling for someone that wasn’t considered particularly wealthy or important would be good for Malcolm’s big ego. Cassandra knew better than to say that, or hint that she was thinking it. Instead, she shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.”
“That’s such a non-committal answer,” Malcolm said. He sounded frustrated, but Cassandra never gave real answers to subjects like that one. “At least let me take you out a few times. We can get a bite to eat and go see a movie or something. You like movies, right?”
That was – actually, her dream date was probably not out there around other people. Cassandra was never very fond of people, and Malcolm seemed the type that’d show off any time he could, and Cassandra just wasn’t that flashy. Before she had to answer, at least, Alexander ran over and grabbed her leg.
“Cassie is dinner done yet?” he whinged.
She gave Malcolm a look that implied she was sorry about being interrupted by her brother, but she was secretly grateful. “Almost, kiddo,” she said.
“Good, cause I’m hungry!” Alexander declared, and then he rocketed off talking about his friends and the new girl he’d just met at the monkey bars, and so on. Malcolm eventually rolled his eyes and walked away. They’d talk again at school, she was sure, and while she wasn’t looking forward to it, maybe putting it off was just delaying the inevitable.
She did wonder if he was right. If their parents would want them to get married later. Her parents had never mentioned anything about it. Maybe he was wrong, then. It wasn’t so hard to believe. Malcolm got some strange ideas into his head, for sure, and that wasn’t really her problem.
“Thanks, kiddo,” she said, quietly, just for Alexander.
The boy giggled. “That was purposeful,” he said, also whispering. “You looked like you were going to slug him if he kept talking.”
“Did I really?”
“Oh yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “You get a mean-looking face when you’re annoyed, I should know!” But, to be fair, Alexander hadn’t seen it in a while. It took him a moment or two to remember what that expression meant, and then a few more moments to figure out what to do about it.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Cassandra said. “In the meantime, how about grilled fruit?” she asked, holding a plate of grilled plaintains and strawberries out to him.
“Yay!” the boy declared, taking the plate and sitting down at the picnic table.
He was sweet. Cassandra hoped he never changed.
* * *
“Alright, upstairs to brush your teeth and go to bed,” Cassandra said, holding the door open for Alexander.
“I know!” he said, heading for the staircase.
“And actually go to sleep!” Cassandra said. “No naps!” His habit of taking naps instead of going to sleep was starting to do a number on his cognitive functions. Alexander didn’t answer directly, just groaned slightly as he marched up the stairs. Cassandra watched him go, and then headed into the dining room. Bella sat in one of the chairs, drinking a cup of tea and looking amused.
“Oh, hi mom,” Cassandra greeted, settling down into a seat, too.
“Welcome home,” Bella said. “You sound like Alexander’s mother.”
Cassandra laughed. “I hope not,” she said. “I can barely handle myself, having to handle a kid too sounds scary.”
Bella smiled knowingly. She’d never spoken about it, but Cassandra was born when she was quite young herself. She’d had Mortimer, so it wasn’t that terrible, but she wondered sometimes what life might’ve been like if she’d waited to marry him. She may not have gotten two beautiful, amazing children out of it, though, and Mortimer was such a doting husband, when he wasn’t having trouble with the voices in his head.
In some sense, Bella understood. Mortimer said she was his muse, that as long as Bella was around, he could be as imaginative as his readers expected him to be. Sometimes he talked to her about his crazy ideas and the adventures that went on in his head, and she enjoyed listening to him talk so animatedly about something. It’d just be nice to have his full attention more frequently than once in a grand while. His editors wanted his attention all the time, but she supposed that was the price they paid for success. Her bosses weren’t much different.
“You might warm up to the idea eventually,” Bella said. “I don’t regret having you and your brother.”
Cassandra smiled. “I’m glad,” she said.
“So, how was the park?”
“Oh, I made over §50 while I was playing,” Cassandra said. “I think everyone liked my songs well enough. Maybe becoming a songwriter won’t be a bad idea.”
“I told you that you were a talented player, Cassandra,” Bella said, smiling brightly. “I’m proud of you, you’ve really done well teaching yourself to play.” Mortimer and Bella could certainly have afforded lessons for the girl, but she’d insisted on figuring it out for herself. Here she was now, having learned to play so well she was considering writing songs. “Would you want to do that as a career?” Bella asked.
“Not really,” Cassandra said, shrugging a shoulder. “Just something fun on the side.”
“If your songs do really well, you could end up rather famous,” Bella said. “I know you’re not a big fan of being in the spotlight.” Cassandra much preferred to duck under the proverbial radar, and while Bella could understand why, she wished Cassandra would put herself out there a little more. The experiences you’d gain for doing so were worth the slight discomfort, or at least Bella thought so. Cassandra wasn’t that type of person, though, and Bella knew it, so she didn’t say anything.
“I know,” Cassandra replied. “I don’t think that’ll happen though. My songs are acceptably good, but I don’t think they’re that good.”
“I don’t know, they might be,” Bella said. “How big of a crowd did you have today?”
“Maybe nine or ten,” Cassandra said.
“Wow, that’s impressive for the first time you’ve played there,” Bella said. “And you made a lot of money, so they seem to think your songs are good.”
“Success on the streets doesn’t always equate to success in a studio with the world at large,” Cassandra said. “Besides, maybe I was just standing under the only tree shade they could get to easily.”
“I doubt that, Cassandra,” Bella said, her eyebrow raising in disbelief. “There are a lot of trees at Magnolia Blossom.” Bella had seen most of them.
Cassandra shook her head, sighing a bit. “Malcolm Landgraab came by and talked to me a lot,” she said, deciding to change the subject.
“Did he?” Bella asked. She was never fond of the Landgraabs. Well, Geoffrey wasn’t too bad of a person, and she shouldn’t judge Nancy so much, but she was one of the snootiest people Bella had ever had the misfortune of interacting with. It was even more unfortunate that the Landgraabs seemed to have so much interest in the Goths and what they were up to.
“Yeah,” Cassandra said. “He stopped by to listen to my playing, and then wanted to talk after.”
“The Landgraabs are important to Oasis Springs,” Bella said. “Probably they’re the closest thing to being a royal family for the place anymore, just like how we’re important to Willow Creek. It might not be a bad thing to make friends with him, at the very least. You certainly don’t need the Landgraabs having a grudge against you.” The Landgraabs and the Goths going toe to toe could be rather a troublesome event. It’d already almost happened because Nancy was a judgy twit, and didn’t seem to think much of Bella because she was so much younger than Mortimer.
She could shove it, though. Bella and Mortimer knew the truth, and she’d do well to keep her nose out of their family’s affairs, before Bella got a mind to turn it green.
Cassandra loosed a sigh. Her mother was probably right. “I guess so,” she admitted. “Why does he have to be so… so ugh though?”
Bella loosed a laugh. “You’d have to ask his parents that, I think,” she said.
“He said it’s likely his parents will want him to marry me later,” Cassandra mentioned. It was toned like it was off-handed, but Bella knew her daughter well enough not to believe that.
“Don’t worry,” Bella said. “We have no intentions of making you marry anyone you don’t want to marry.”
Some of the tension Cassandra hadn’t been aware was there faded. “I’m glad.”
“You should marry for love, Cassandra, not for money or beauty or anything like that. Those things, they don’t last forever, and when the money is gone and the beauty has faded, there’s gotta be something else there.”
Cassandra smiled a bit. “Like with you and dad?” she asked.
“Yes,” Bella replied. “Just like with me and your father. … and remember to make time for your family,” Bella added, her expression turning sour. “You never know when it’ll be too late to make time, and you don’t want your family to feel like they’re second rate.”
Cassandra made a face. It sounded like she should kick her father into spending some time with her mother. “I’ll remember, mom,” she said. And she would certainly try to.
* * *
It was still dark outside, but Cassandra had a headache. She sat up in bed, and then decided to go downstairs to get a glass of water. When she got headaches like this, she either needed to eat something, or she needed to get something to drink. Getting something to drink was a lot easier in the long run, so she decided to go with that.
As she made her way downstairs, though, she heard muttering and the sound of papers rustling. It sounded like her father was still down here, probably working on a book idea or two. She took a breath in, and shuffled into the dining room first. There were papers spread all across the dining room table, and she had to snort a little at the sight. It certainly had turned out she was right.
“Hey daddy,” she greeted.
“Oh, hi pumpkin,” Mortimer greeted. “Do you need the table?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, popping into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and then settling against the counter. It was in full view of the dining room, so they could still talk. “Thank you though. How’s your work going?” He seemed frustrated about something. Cassandra wasn’t very good at writing, but she did understand how fickle the writing process could be. She kind of felt bad for him, and maybe she could help at least a little.
“Not very well,” he answered, frowning at the papers in front of him. “In this part, the main character discovers the girl she’d just met is an alien, and then in the next has to decide what to do with that information, but it seems like it’s too much too quickly. They just met, maybe I should wait for that particular reveal…”
Cassandra smiled a little, moving across the dining room to look at the chapters he meant, and read a little. “Yeah, that is a little bit confusing I think,” she said. “Unless the alien girl doesn’t want to hide her being an alien? Being disguised is useless anyway, isn’t it? They have to hide everything they are, and that’s gotta be insulting to at least one of them.”
Mortimer looked up at her like she’d just found the answer to life itself. “You’re a genius, Cassandra,” he said. “That would work so well!”
“I’m glad,” she answered, sounding amused. Mortimer quickly scribbled out the idea into the margins of one of the papers in front of him. He then sat up long enough to restack the papers together. Since their house didn’t have any electronics in it (not even a radio), Mortimer wrote all of his books by hand, on paper. It did mean there were a few books he’d lost because he’d left the pages a little bit too close to the fireplace a time or two. Cassandra never mentioned it, and the rest of the Goths didn’t care to remember the minor fires Mortimer’s habit of leaving his books in random places tended to cause. It’s just a good thing nothing was ever damaged, but Cassandra knew he didn’t do it on purpose. So did Bella and Alexander. Though, Alexander had developed a mild aversion to the fireplaces.
“Have you gone up to see mom?” she asked, settling down in a seat now that getting a papercut from twitching the wrong way wasn’t a concern anymore.
“Hmm?” Mortimer asked, looking up at Cassandra.
Cassandra decided not to say anything, simply giving him a look.
“Oh, your mother, right,” Mortimer said. “I’ve been down here since I got back from the meeting with the executives. Can you believe they want this book done by the end of the week? I have no idea if I can even find the time!”
Cassandra still said nothing, continuing to give him the look. After a few moments, Mortimer cleared his throat.
“She’s upset, isn’t she?” he asked, sheepish.
Cassandra mutely nodded.
Mortimer sighed. “Yes, I suppose she would be. Well, what do you say I find a nice rose for her?”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Cassandra replied. “But tonight, I think it might be a better idea to put the manuscript away, and go up to spend time with her.”
Mortimer sighed. He did not, however, argue, because Cassandra was right and he knew it. “When did you start becoming such a young woman, Cassie?” he asked. “You were supposed to be my little girl forever.”
“I’m still your little girl, daddy,” she said. “I’m just not so little now.” She’d grown. But that was what children did, they didn’t stay small forever. Sometimes, Cassandra was glad for that, but other times, she really wished she could stay small forever. The responsibility that came from becoming an adult sounded like a little too much for her, but on the other hand, living off her parents forever wasn’t any more appealing. There should be some kind of a balance of the two, but she knew she’d never truly get one.
Perhaps just asking them for advice when she was lost after she was on her own would be close enough. She didn’t think her parents would mind answering her strange questions and still helping guide her when she’d moved out. As it was, her mother was always offering her life advice. It stood to reason that she might still when Cassandra was on her own, if not more so.
“I know,” Mortimer answered. “Alright, I’m going up to bed then,” he said, setting his manuscript neatly in one of the drawers in the dining room. “You should be getting to sleep soon too, pumpkin,” he said, leaning over to give Cassandra a hug and a kiss on her hair.
“I will,” she said. “Just needed some water. Goodnight.” Mortimer murmured his goodnight and went upstairs. Cassandra slid down in her seat. Someday she’d have to move out. To start her own life, and be whoever it was she was destined to be. But who was that? And would she be glad to meet her, or would she wish things had turned out differently?
