Cassie's Crush Read Free Page A

me with those melty brown eyes, which was hotly embarrassing because I didn’t know what to say next.
    â€œUm, Carrie…” Ollie fished out a crumpled timetable from his trouser pocket.
    â€œCassie,” I corrected him. “My name’s Cassie.”
    â€œOh. Right. Sorry.”
    â€œS’OK,” I said with a shrug, as if I was used to being called the wrong name and it didn’t bother me at all.
    He frowned at his timetable. “D’you know where Mr Snow’s class is?”
    â€œYeah,” I said, but as I started to tell him my mind went kind of … empty. It was as if all the little cogs in my brain had suddenly stopped working. “Er, Mr Snow…” I mumbled over the thumping of my heart.
    â€œFrench,” Ollie said, giving me a strange look. I had my left arm clamped over the left side of my body to disguise my “unusual” shape.
    â€œOh yeah,” I said with a loud, stupid laugh. “You’re in Mr Snow’s class, are you? I get Miss Hitchin for French. Mr Snow’s stricter but he’ll be fine with you, seeing as you’re new…”
    â€œEr, right,” he said with a grin. Shut up, Cassie. Shut up. “So where’s his class?” he prompted me.
    â€œOh, um … go along to the end, turn left, and I think his room’s, er, second on the…”
    â€œHave you hurt your arm?” Ollie interrupted.
    â€œWhat? No. Why?” I kept it bent and stuck to my body. The loo paper had got too scratchy so I was going about unpadded.
    â€œIt’s just, you’re holding it like this…” He copied my odd pose.
    â€œI’m fine. It’s just kinda … achy.” I winced and gave the elbow area a little rub with my other hand.
    â€œWhy?” Ollie frowned.
    â€œUm … I’m not sure. Growing pains, I think. That’s what my dad said.”
    â€œCan you get those in your elbow?”
    â€œYeah.” I nodded firmly. “I’m sure you can. It’s all to do with the, er … joint. And the bones.” Shut your great big idiot mouth, Cassie Malone, before he thinks you’re insane.
    â€œIs it?” His lips twitched a bit.
    â€œUh-huh. Everything grows too quickly, faster than the bones can keep up, so you get these pains in the, er…” I tailed off and blinked down at my shoes. What was I on about, pretending to be some kind of bone expert?
    â€œDon’t you have classes, you two?” barked Miss Rashley, marching towards us with her nostrils flaring and a furious scowl on her face.
    â€œJust going,” I gabbled, hurrying away, relieved that she’d got me out of the bone conversation. And at least we’d talked, me and Ollie. Take that, push-up-bra-Leech. She might have simpered all over him with her fluttery eyes and flicky hair, but he seemed genuinely worried about my elbow. Which must mean…
    Actually, I don’t know what it means. But I’m going to have to sort out the boob situation urgently.

Normally I’m ready for school in about six minutes. Today, though, I tried to do my hair so it wasn’t so wild and messy-looking (my shoulder-length muddy-coloured hair has a mind of its own) and wondered if maybe one day I might persuade Mum to buy me some straighteners.
    â€œWhat are you doing in there?” she yelled through the locked bathroom door, while I rummaged through our cupboard for something to make my hair lie flat. Dad’s anti-baldie lotion stuff was sitting there on the shelf, and I was so tempted to slap a bit on my boob to see if it might speed up its growth.
    â€œCassie!” Mum shouted again.
    â€œShe’s beautifying ,” chuckled my big brother Ned from the landing. “She’s transforming herself into a vision of loveliness.”
    â€œHow long will that take?” Mum retorted in response.
    â€œYears,” I growled, wishing we had a proper