Cassie Binegar Read Free Page A

even harder. They rolled around on the bed, their arms clasped over their stomachs, gasping, sitting up to look at each other, then collapsing again.
    â€œWhat are we laughing about?” asked Margaret Mary, trying to look serious. This made them laugh more.
    After a while, Cassie sat up, drying her eyes. Margaret Mary sat up next to her, both of them quiet, shy again, looking at their feet. Cassie stared at her sneakers, one taped over a toe, white shoelaces in one, brown in the other. Then she looked at Margaret Mary’s feet: pink socks with lace edgings, brown shoes with straps hooked over pearl buttons.
    Cassie sighed.
    â€œYou have matching clothes,” she announced.
    Margaret Mary nodded.
    â€œAnd ribbons and dresses,” Cassie added. She got up and walked over to the closet where Margaret Mary’s dresses hung in neat rows, one to a hanger. Matching ribbons hung on a hook just inside the closet.
    â€œMaybe I should try matching ribbons,” she said thoughtfully.
    Margaret Mary reached over Cassie’s shoulder, picking out two green ribbons. Together, they stood in front of the mirror, Margaret Mary trying to gather the wild wisps of Cassie’s hair into a pigtail on one side, Cassie the other. Her arm up, Cassie could see that there was a hole in the underarm of her shirt. They stood, side by side, looking at their reflections. Margaret Mary tipped her head, studying Cassie. Cassie tried to smile at herself, but she couldn’t.
    â€œI look,” she said sadly, “like a package.”
    â€œCassie,” said Margaret Mary, “your hair is splendid and free. It shouldn’t be tied up in ribbons.” Then, seeing Cassie’s sad look, she added, “They’re only ribbons, Cass.” She bent her head toward the closet. “They’re only dresses. They’re only socks.”
    Slowly, Cassie reached up and untied the green ribbons. She handed them to Margaret Mary.
    â€œBut everything here is so neat and uncluttered,” she said, watching Margaret Mary hang the ribbons back on the hook.
    â€œAnd safe,” she added softly, surprising herself.
    Margaret Mary put her hand on Cassie’s shoulder and they looked at each other in the mirror, Margaret Mary so slim and fair-haired, Cassie, her hair so wild, her eyes sad.
    â€œOnly safe and uncluttered on the outside, Cass,” said Margaret Mary softly. She gestured. “This is all the outside. It doesn’t matter. It only matters if you’re safe and uncluttered on the inside.”
    Inside, outside , thought Cassie as she went to Margaret Mary’s bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she saw that Margaret Mary was right about the bathroom. It was nice. There were no hairs in the sink, no remnants of soap bars to be scratched off. The lid of the clothes hamper was closed tightly, not like in Cassie’s house where the clothes tumbled out and around and behind. Cassie sat on the edge of the bathtub and leaned over to open the hamper with one finger. At the bottom, very neatly folded, was one blouse. Cassie picked it up. It was not dirty.
    Inside, outside , Cassie repeated silently as she and Margaret Mary walked beside the evening sea toward Cassie’s house. She didn’t understand. It didn’t have anything to do with her insides. If Cassie’s family would only move back where they lived before, things would be all right again, wouldn’t they? Things would be uncluttered. Things would be safe, the way they had been. Cassie thought about Papa. Or would they? The gentle waves along the inlet reached for their bare feet. The stars were scattered across the sky. Cassie watched Margaret Mary, walking beside her. Cassie straightened up and practiced walking delicately, one foot carefully in front of the other, like Margaret Mary. “ Inside, outside, inside, outside, inside, outside ,” she whispered to the rhythm of her steps as she walked home, trying to