Limelight

Chapter One | Cassie

[Cassie]

I don't think it's ever occurred to my father just how off-putting it is to have Nirvana blasting at full volume in the background whilst you're trying to give your daughter a serious lecture. I mean, it's alright for me - let's face it, you'd rather have Kurt Cobain's screams of 'Rape me!' drowning out all other noises than having to listen to anything your dad has to say - but for Dad, not so much.

"Cass? Cassie? Are you even listening to me?" I hear my father shout. Nope, Kurt Cobain is still winning this war of voices. Seriously, why can't he just turn off the music and then talk to me without having to scream? "You better be, because your mother says that if you don't do remarkably well at this school of yours, you're going straight back to sixth form."

I let out an exasperated and I turn my head to look out of the window, because staring at the seemingly endless population of hipster and skater kids in the town we're passing through is way more productive than anything else I could be doing. "Yeah, I know," I mutter.

Well, there goes the classic 'your mother says' thing again. At first glance, Dad looks like a pretty badass, strict guy. With his good-looks, classy job, wireless headset, seemingly endless wardrobe of Paul Smith suits and vintage Bentley, Dad's the sort of person who you'd expect to run his household with a metal fist.

Yeah, not quite. A more accurate description of my father is a doormat that can't seem to make any decisions about his only daughter without consulting or bringing up his wife first, but is way too soft and lets his daughter do whatever the hell she wants anyway. I love my dad.

I'm pretty sure my mother scares the hell out of him though, which may be a large factor as to why he left her. I say 'left her'. It was more like he ran away at the first opportunity until Mum dragged him back again. Let's make this clear - my mother is not a complete bitch. She's just one of those people who always have to get their own way, no matter what it takes. Mum demands a lot from life, but she usually gets it.

My parents are still married and in love and all that stuff, but at the moment they're 'taking a break'. Dad's got his own place at the other side of the city. I'm not too bothered that Dad no longer lives with us, because whenever I'm seeking refuge from Mum, Dad's all too happy to let me stay over his.

"It... it's just that I'm going to miss you loads, Cass," says Dad. At least, I think that's what he said. I still can't really hear. "Who am I going to make French toast for in the mornings now? Who is going to call me at two in the morning, completely hammered, asking me to pick them up from a party because they're too scared to call their mother?"

Before I can point out to Dad that I rarely even go to parties, let alone get completely smashed at them, I hear a small sniffle. "Oh God, Dad! Are you crying?" I ask, quickly turning off the radio.

My father cries at nearly everything. For example, he cried when he accidently blew up the microwave whilst attempting to make a jacket potato. Although that just might have been because he really wanted that potato. I don't know, but he wouldn't stop crying until I ordered him a massive pizza from Domino's - the only thing that will cheer him up no matter what.

"No!" insists Dad, firmly gripping the steering wheel and lifting his chin, defiantly. It's sort of surreal being able to hear him properly for once. "I'm fine. I'm great, in fact. I can order as many pizzas as I want now without you constantly lecturing me about how I'm going to grow morbidly obese and die at fifty."

"Yeah, I only said that, because you would probably eat less, leaving more pizza for me," I admit. Alright, so my pizza-snatching tactic was sly, but it worked. "Hey, Dad! Isn't that?"