The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie (25 page)

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See attached samples of Bindy Mackenzie's Personalised Stationery for the Busy Teen, including:

DIARY ENTRY
Thursday, 12 August

Feeling low.

Dad invested in my personalised stationery but am forlorn about its success (one customer—Ernst von Schmerz).

I wonder if Anthony is right? He refuses to take it seriously. The other day he proposed that Dad invest $35,000,000 so that he and Sam could start a chain of independent movie cinemas.

It's true that I never actually make much money from the proposals, but they seem to impress Dad. He always laughs. Sometimes I wish I could concentrate on school work, and my part-time jobs, without also having to create business opportunities.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
Wednesday, September 15 (in my bedroom)

I may as well use some of this stationery. I have printed so much for myself!

Sigh.

I'm not sure how this is ‘philosophy', but Emily Thompson hates me. It turns out I did get the name wrong, back when I told Cassie Aganovic that I knew someone called ‘Matthew Dunlop of Brookfield'. It now turns out (Emily tells me, sparks shooting from her ears), that there is
nobody
at Brookfield of that name. Some wicked boy was using a false name to deceive Cassie! I was in error. And for some reason this is a matter of life and death. Good grief. Can a
name
be so important?

Cassie herself does not seem angry with me. I apologised to her, and explained that I must have misheard (or misremembered). She just smiled, and said I shouldn't let it get me down. Meanwhile, her two friends, Emily and Lydia (especially that wildfire, Emily), absolutely HATE and DESPISE me.

The loyalty between those three!

It is close to appalling.

NOTE FOR BINDY MACKENZIE FROM MRS LILYDALE
Hi Bindy,
My, you do have speedy fingers! What a marvellous job you did typing up the transcript of
that fiasco
today. I must admit that Emily Thompson did a rather good job as a ‘lawyer', but how sweet of you to come by my office to offer comfort afterwards.

Now, you might have noticed some
papers
on my desk as you walked in—tell me,
did
you see anything curious? Do be a team player and tell me what you saw—so I can explain!

So long!
Mrs Lilydale

A Memo from Bindy Mackenzie

 

Dear Mrs Lilydale,
You know, I enjoyed typing the transcript at the fiasco so much, that I've opened up a ‘transcript file' on my computer. I can't seem to stop typing the transcripts of conversations around me! I suppose it is not a good habit, but it is teaching me about humankind.

As for the papers on your desk, you'll just have to
guess
what I saw!! But don't worry, your secrets are always safe with me.

Best wishes,
Bindy Mackenzie

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
5.05
pm
Mum and Dad are not speaking to each other—they're fighting because Anthony wants to go to a Performing Arts school with Sam next year, and Dad says the idea is absurd and the fees are extortionate.

I could play the piano—that might cheer everyone up. But here I sit on my piano stool, lost in a sort of reverie. Feel odd about music generally.

Last term, there was a dramatic conflict between Ashbury and Brookfield High, culminating in a sort of legal hearing, at which I typed the transcript. (Afterwards, I was with Mrs
Lilydale in her office—saw nothing at
all
on her desk, but she
thinks
I did. Couldn't resist keeping her guessing . . . I wonder what was there?)

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
5.07
pm
I should have made these notecards bigger. Have to keep starting a fresh one.

Anyway, after the ‘hearing', the Spring Concert became the ‘Spring for Unity Concert', bringing together Ashbury and Brookfield (a fruitless attempt at reconciliation). Cassie Aganovic made everyone weep at the concert. Nobody knew she could sing, but it turns out she has a voice as sweet as a Gray Singing Finch, and as haunting as the song of the Hermit Thrush. The standing ovation that followed her performance went on for about twenty minutes. (I was so glad I pulled out of that concert myself.)

I could not explain, even to myself, how Cassie's singing made me feel, until much later that day—when I was almost asleep—and a single word crept into my mind. It was the word
pride.
I felt so proud of Cassie. A hall crowded with people, and all of us listening in wonder to someone from
my
year, someone who belonged, in a way, to
me.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
5.15
pm
Afterwards, everyone was saying she has to go on
Australian Idol.

I said, ‘It would be a tragedy if Cassie went on
Australian Idol,'
and people sneered at me. They thought I was being jealous. But I only meant that she is far too unique and special for reality tv.