Cassandra in reverse, p.33
Cassandra in Reverse, page 33
“I...” Will starts, then shakes his head and takes a step back. “This is too much. I don’t know how to... I can’t... I’m so sorry, but nope.”
Looking wild-eyed, like a captured Pegasus, Will slings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves the pub even faster than he arrived in it, which is—I think about it—yup, exactly what I logically assumed would happen.
Artemis sinks back into her pub chair. “Shit.”
Nobody moves.
“Wow,” Sal observes approvingly, looking at me with an expression I haven’t seen before. “What an incredibly dramatic family this is. I love it. I’m buying a subscription. Does this sort of thing happen a lot?”
“Let’s give the poor girls some space,” Barry says firmly. “Drinks are on me. Everyone. Bar. Now.”
“SHIT,” Artemis yells much louder as our party scuttles away from the table. “This is so typical. You finally meet a great guy and he’s already been in an on-again, off-again relationship through time and space with your closest blood relation. There’s always something, isn’t there. How did this even happen? Cassandra Penelope Dankworth, you have got a lot of explaining to do.”
Desperately, I scan through my phone.
“Cass.”
I hit Google and read the results.
“Cass.”
Memorize the contents as fast as I can.
“Cassandra, put your bloody phone down and talk to me.” Artemis rips it out of my hands and stares at it. “What is this?”
I shuffle away. “Nothing.”
“You just googled a list of local accidents over the last month. Do you think I’m stupid? You’re not doing it.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“But I am, though.”
I take my phone back off her and stare at it again. I can do this. I know I can. And while I’m there, I might as well branch out a bit. Put my time to good use. There you go: there’s another expression about time to add to the list. You can own time and put it anywhere you like—you just have to decide where.
“No.” Artemis chucks the phone on the floor—it smashes, no big deal, I’m about to undo that too—and grabs my hands. “I am not letting you do this. You will lose everything. Do you understand, Cassandra? Everything you’ve done, all the things you’ve achieved, it’ll all disappear. All these people who care about you. Poof. Gone. You’ll be alone again. It’ll be like it never happened.”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “I do grasp the general concept of time.”
“Then at least do it for you.” Artemis has started crying again, and I swear to all the gods and their cupbearers, she needs to get a grip on her emotions. She lives way too near the waterworks. It’s like building houses three inches from the ocean. “Just go back and get Will, Cassie. I’ll never know.”
“There’s no point.” I realize it’s true as soon as I say it. “It wouldn’t work. Will and I are completely incompatible. I don’t need to see the future to know we’d eventually make each other miserable. I could try again and it would end again. And again. And again. We’re very different people.”
“But—”
“I love Will,” I say calmly. “But we don’t want the same life. I don’t want children and noise and travel and mess and dogs and tents. You do. So have it, Artemis. Let me be the cool aunt with the amazing clothes and the quiet house full of books and peace and beautiful things that nobody ever touches. Let me have the life I’m supposed to have. Let me love you both, the best way I can. Please.”
Artemis hiccups, her sweet little face all soggy.
And here they come: all the Emotions.
Every color turns up—together, in one go—and I feel them in their infinity, their breadth, their overwhelming spectrum.
I close my eyes.
“Not yet,” Artemis says urgently, tugging at my sleeve until I open them again. “You’re not thinking this through properly, Cass. We won’t be talking. Remember? Everything we’ve shared will disappear too.”
“It won’t.” I smile faintly, fiddling with the watch our parents gave me: the parents who are still here, still exactly as they were, held tightly in a past I always carry with me. “I will remember it all.”
It will all be so very neat and tidy.
I won’t go into the café. I won’t order my banana muffin, and I won’t talk to the handsome man sitting opposite me. Instead, I will go to the British Museum, I will see my sister standing by the naked centaur, and I will tell her I love her. That I have always loved her; that I will never worry again that I cannot love, that I cannot feel a connection, because she is the living proof that I can, that I do, that I will.
That all the love I have is right here, stored inside me.
I’d imagine she’ll be quite surprised.
Then I’ll casually suggest that we go see an animal photography exhibition in Shoreditch, and I’ll simply let fate take its course from there. And if fate decides not to—if it decides to be a little bugger, as per usual—then I’ll keep giving fate a nudge until it finally gets the message.
Whether their love works out is up to them.
I can only do so much; I’m not Eros.
As for the rest of my story... There’s just no way of knowing what will happen to it. I’d imagine it will change. I’d imagine I will want it to. Maybe it will have different characters. Different emotions. Different social events I have to avoid. Maybe my story will be better, maybe it will be worse. Maybe it’ll be bigger, maybe it’ll be smaller. Maybe I’ll be a hero, maybe I’ll be a monster. I’d imagine ultimately I’ll hover somewhere in between, the way most of us non-goddesses tend to.
Only time will tell, and now I’ll be listening just as hard as I can.
“Cassandra,” Artemis says. “Open your eyes.”
I open my eyes.
“Six.” She leans forward to kiss my cheek and I can feel the love pouring out of her into me and mine straight back into her, primrose yellow. “Twenty-nine. Eighteen. Forty-three. Nine.”
“I’m not winning the lottery for you too,” I laugh, wiping her face. “Stop being so greedy. I’ll see you next time, okay?”
“Bye.” Artemis nods, taking a deep breath.
“Bye.” I smile.
* * *
And I close my eyes to go back to the beginning.
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing often seems a solitary endeavor. In truth, all books require a brilliant team behind them, and I have been incredibly lucky with this one.
Massive thanks to my wonderful UK agent, Kate Shaw, who has been with me from the beginning, and my brilliant US agent, Allison Hellegers, who is always a joy and a pleasure to have on side and worked tirelessly to find Cassie the right home. Thanks to my incredible US editor, April Osborn at MIRA Books: your insight, encouragement and eagle eye have been invaluable and have made the book infinitely stronger and more powerful.
Publishing a story about an autistic character is one thing—making sure that the autistic author is listened to and given additional support when necessary is quite another, and my team at MIRA have absolutely smashed both. Leah Morse, Heather Connor, Ashley MacDonald, Puja Lad, Ana Luxton, Colleen Simpson, Ariana Sinclair, Brieana Garcia, Nora Rawn—you have done an amazing job at championing both Cassie and me, and my gratitude is extensive. Thank you. The cover is incredible, so an enormously special thanks to Alexandra Niit, Elita Sidiropoulou and Erin Craig for absolutely smashing it out of the park.
To my wonderful film agent, Rebecca Watson at Valerie Hoskins Associates, and my foreign language agents, Nicki Kennedy, Jenny Robson, Katherine West and Alix Shaw at ILA: thank you, always, for your continued support, hard work and vision in getting this book out to the wide world and into exactly the right hands.
Mum, all of these books are because of you. Thank you for reading to me every night, for saving all my first attempts at writing, for making stories an inherent part of me. Dad, my unofficial Creative Consultant, your generosity, energy and sense of humor are constantly inspirational, and I will continue to steal them whenever I can. To my little sister, Tara: you are the bravest half of me, and one day I’ll have to stop writing about how much I love you. To my niece, Autumn—you’re the smartest, funniest, weirdest little nugget in the world, and I adore you. To the rest of my family—Grandma, Lesley, Judith, Caro, Vero, Louise, Adrien, Charlie, Suzie, Victoire, Vincent, Simon, Ellen, Freya, Robin, Lorraine, Romaine, Dixie, Chelsea—thanks for the support and love, as always. A shout-out to my North American buds too, Ashley, Jeff and Patrick. This is just another excellent reason to visit you.
I lost my beloved granddad just before I finished writing this book, so this book is for him. He was (and will always be) my favorite person, and not just because he read every word I ever wrote. He was also the kindest, most gentle, most curious and most compassionate person I have ever known, and I miss him daily. Thank you, My Granddad. I hope you’re enjoying this story now, wherever you are.
Finally, this book does not represent autism, and neither I nor Cassie represent autistic people. We are simply individual voices in a choir of millions of amazing neurodivergent people, all with our own experiences, our own ways of seeing the world, our own ways of existing. I cannot speak for anyone but myself, and I would not want to try. So, whether you enjoyed this book or not, whether you see yourself represented in this story or not, I urge you to seek out other autistic voices.
We are beautiful, we are unique, and we are legion.
ISBN-13: 9780369736536
Cassandra in Reverse
Copyright © 2023 by The Write Girl Ltd
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