No One Cares About Cassie

Dear Diary,

I’m busy as a bee. It’s a good thing my head is holding to my neck, or else I have no idea where I’d be looking for it. I think I’ll soon need some time to unwind. When are my first holidays again? For Thanksgiving? Really?

Oh, bummer. I thought I’d have some off time sooner than that. I’m going to be stuck in a mental facility by November. Maybe I have to consider rebalancing my life a little. Or maybe I should work only one job?

But we need the money. We have to cover the food, part of the bills, all our expenses. I can’t just not work. Hunter is working so hard, too. He gets paid a little better than I do, though, but what can I say? I’m not exactly doing some important work in a lab. I bring coffee.

That’s it. I’m working my first job. Well, internship. But it’s a paid internship, which makes this a job. And as I predicted, I start as a coffee runner. I don’t mind that, though. I’ve been working at the café long enough to learn how many different types of coffee exist.

Well, it’s not like I’m getting coffee from an actual café. I become more of a Starbucks runner. And they have literally too many flavors for me to make sense of them. Anyway, I learn my way around the office after a couple of weeks and I realize I’ve gotten quite used to it already.

Huh. Is this how quickly people get used to new jobs? I never thought it could be that way. As I said, I’m in charge for getting my colleagues coffee, then study and learn their ways. At least that’s what I was told I’d be doing.

I’m hoping they’ll trust me with something more by the end of the year, but from what I’ve heard from other interns, I shouldn’t be expecting to get trusted with any actual work until the end of the academic year. Great, huh? So much for working as a journalist intern.

I still keep my part-time job at the café, to help out on the weekends. At Fox, they only need me during the week. Which is fine by me. But it’s becoming a struggle, with how many responsibilities I’ve managed to pile up.

I’m still trying to keep my schoolwork intact, because that’s what I’m here for, primarily. Studying. Then, I’m trying to be a good intern and learn something, try to earn some more money on the weekends and only then I actually transform into Hunter’s girlfriend.

It’s actually kind of sad. I came here to be able to be with him, yet I barely get to see him. It’s making us struggle a little, but we forget how much time we spend apart as soon as we get an hour to ourselves. Being able to live with him is still my top one priority. I don’t want to change that. Ever.

I’ve started reading Hamlet, by the way. It’s freaking exhausting. Why did I think it was such a good idea? And I’m running out of time, day by day. I can’t believe the deadline is this week already. I still have thirty pages to go, but I’m literally dreading the moment I have to finish them.

The thing is … this is Shakespeare. This is renaissance English. It’s almost ancient. And I have to make sense of it, somehow. I’ve heard foreigners don’t find him all that complicated to read. Yeah, you get a rough translation. Try deciphering that sixteenth-century English in its original.

Okay, I’m whining too much. I have to complain less and work more. Yeah. That’s right. I don’t have the luxury of time on my side. I’ll worry later. I barely have any moment for myself to breathe, let alone overthink. I’ll do that later. Or preferably, never.

We’re all kind of panicking about the upcoming deadline. I realize it as I exchange a few words with my classmates. I know everyone by name now, and I talk to them during the breaks, but I haven’t really made any real friends yet. And I don’t think I will.

We’re just discussing what Mr. Rodriguez is expecting from us, because no one really gets it, when Cassie walks by. She has that all-knowing smirk plastered on her face, telling me that I need to take a deep breath. As a precaution. I want to be calm when she opens that mouth.

And she does that in less than a second. “Why are you all so worried? He gave quite simple instructions. You just have to read them through carefully,” she remarks, being a clear smartass. I notice that her remark doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah, we’ve done that,” one girl remarks dryly. Her name’s Helen, and I think she comes from Texas, if I remember correctly. We’re really here out of the whole States. I don’t comment furthermore, but I let a smile draw itself upon my face. Helen, Helen. You just earned yourself a golden star in Perrie’s book.

Cassie doesn’t let herself get thrown off course. She flips her hair over her shoulder, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Here we go. Her signature movement of trying to establish dominance amongst the female species. It’s a shame we’re not in high school anymore.

I can see some classmates raising their eyebrows at the gesture. “Well, you just have to try a little harder. Mr. Rodriguez won’t tolerate misunderstandings. You’ve had more than enough time to ask questions. He’s said it himself,” she remarks, making me clench my jaw.

Really? Does she think she knows everything, or what? “You help us then,” I blurt out before I’m able to stop myself. It’s a plain and simple sentence, but it throws her off guard for a moment. Ah. Didn’t expect me to actually talk to her in public? Yeah, I figured giving her the silent treatment was making her feel way too special. Time to change that.

She eyes me in a discreet way, then shakes her head. “I think you’ve all had more than enough time to ask Mr. Rodriguez. I won’t help you, because you’ve been lazy until now. If you started sooner, you wouldn’t be in this much trouble now,” she lets me know.

This time, I can’t resist. I roll my eyes at her in a dramatic way, then murmur: “Whatever, smartass.” It’s quiet enough for her not to hear what I said, but those closest to me, can make out both words. They chuckle, making her narrow her eyes at us.

“What did she-”

“Hey, class! Sorry I’m late! I’ve been held up by the dean,” Mr. Rodriguez interrupts Cassie’s incoming outburst, before it properly starts. I get up from the bench and walk past her, ignoring the way she’s basically fuming behind me. She can go cry to whomever she wants. I’m done listening to her whining.

We head into the classroom and I sit down in the front row, like I usually do. It’s made me realize I’m able to follow classes better this way. And no one can distract me with their chit-chatting, because all the good students sit in the front row.

Before Mr. Rodriguez begins the class, I raise my hand. He looks a little thrown off-course, but he composes himself pretty quickly. “Yes, Miss Hughes?” he asks, making me take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. I might get an earful, or I might get actual help.

“I’m sorry, I just have a question about our assignment …” I trail off, not knowing if I’m allowed to continue, or if I should be hiding behind my hands from embarrassment. I really don’t want him to shout at me for asking questions literally three days before the deadline.

But Mr. Rodriguez stops in his tracks, then walks towards me. “Oh, of course,” he says out loud, before quieting his voice as he stops right in front of the desk, towering over me. “What is it that’s troubling you?”

As I stare up at him up close, I can’t help but notice why so many students find him attractive. He is quite handsome. Okay, Perrie, ew. He’s your teacher. At least five years your senior. It’s a no-no. I quickly pull out his assignment instructions, going through question after question, just to make sure I understand them all correctly.

Turns out I do. He only corrects me at one of them, otherwise he tells me I’m good to start writing. I thank him politely, feeling kind of relieved as he finally walks back to the front of the classroom.

I turn backwards, towards Trish, who was most worried about the instructions and show her thumbs up. She returns the gesture happily, making me smile. I actually asked him about everything for my classmates more than myself. I guess I’m becoming a team player at this school. Huh. College can really change you.

As I turn my head back, I notice Cassie glaring at me on the way. I ignore her, refusing to dive into her games again. She can think whatever she wants. At least now I know how to write this essay, while she still doesn’t have a clue. Or maybe she actually, does, I don’t know. Good for her if she does, I guess.

I don’t care, really. As long as I manage to finish this assignment and get a good grade, I don’t care what she does. I just want to beat her, since I picked the same work as she did. I really hope I succeed.