'Crystal King – 21st Century Girl' - A Soap Opera Novel by Dee Marshall - Part 4

in story •  7 years ago  (edited)

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Catch up with previous installments: Part 1, Part 2. Part 3.

Chapter Three

Crystal walked with Sarah to the end of Sarah’s cul-de-sac, Inverness Road, said ‘See ya laters’ and started on her usual detour homeward bound. She always took a slightly different route to avoid any lurking, mean people perhaps looking for unsuspecting victims who stuck innocently to the same trek home.

This time consuming habit had started years ago at Manor House Primary after the year 6 SATs. Two very tall girls already at Stratton Road High had cornered her against a scratchy hedge by a deserted pavement on her way home, shoulder shoving her and asking what were her levels. Naively, she’d answered truthfully, proud of her level 6s. The girls were scathing, calling her ‘Brains’ and saying she was a ‘Stuck –up Cow’. She well remembered their vitriolic voices to this day. Although she hadn’t been physically hurt, the unjustified experience had been unforgettable and traumatic for an eleven year old.

As Crystal crossed the patchy grass between the fenced-off canal and her row of community housing flats her hackles rose like hedgehog spikes at the sight of an approaching, rambling group. They were a little older than her, mucking around, whooping with fun, acting high as kites. Every so often a couple would temporarily break away from the main group, breathlessly tripping up, playing chase. It looked like trouble for someone on their own but she was so near Glasgow Terrace, her block, she decided to just speed up unobtrusively and hope she wouldn’t be noticed.

It was a futile tactic. She was soon spotted by a lout with filthy hair, a self inflicted blue neck tattoo and numerous ear piercings who probably thought he looked like a rock star.

‘Look at that DDG babe. Hey, girl, gi’ us a kiss,’ followed by a cacophony of raucous laughter. ‘Babe, it’s your lucky day, Mr. Pitbull is on ya case’.

Crystal began to feel sweaty. Would she make it home before they caught up with her? Oh hell, they’d spread out and were circling round. She really didn’t want them to see where she lived.

‘D’yoo wan I fuck yoo?’ lout one swaggered.

‘She ain’t respecting ya Pit,’ lout two added his two-pennyworth through rotten teeth and scabby lips.

Crystal felt panic rising as the gang closed in, just as a strong arm fell round her shoulders.

At the same time Cal spoke assertively and quietly. ‘Slow down, just ignore them and walk calmly with me. You’re fine. Don’t look at them.’ He guided Crystal towards the service road.

Crystal did as she was told, recognising Cal’s nice voice from earlier. She sneaked a peep at the unruly gang and was relieved to see they were moving away, interest flagging now she wasn’t alone.

‘Where are you heading?’ Cal smiled stepping back to give Crystal her personal space.

‘Thank you so much for coming over. I was afraid those guys would catch me.’ Crystal’s words spilt out on a sob.

‘They were all mouth. I’ve seen that type so many times. You did the right thing ignoring them. They had no power over you when you did that.’

‘I was so scared though. I didn’t want them to see where I live in case they threw stones at the window and scared my mum or something.’

‘Of course you didn’t. Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.’

Her voice gradually returning to normal, Crystal indicated that her home was just nearby. ‘Thank you again for coming to my rescue Mr. Grant. I’ll be okay now.’

‘My pleasure. By the way, what’s your name?’

‘I’m Crystal King.’

‘Hmm,’ thought Cal, ‘nice name, nice girl.’

***

Crystal tried to be creep-mouse quiet but Mum must have been listening for her.

‘Can you come here please?’ Mum called in her ‘you and I need to talk’ voice from her bedroom, where she was hurriedly neatening up for work. Yvonne was a kitchen assistant at ‘The Broadway Grill’ down the town but due to short staff, often found herself serving so she had to look presentable.

Crystal disregarded the summons and slunk to her room without answering. Mum would be off to her evening job very soon. Crystal only had to stall her till then.

Mum had other ideas.

‘Well madam, what’ve you got to say for yourself?’ Hands on hips, Mrs. King planted herself at Crystal’s open bedroom door.

‘I’m sorry Mum. I was just having fun with Sarah. Miss Anderson blew it all up out of proportion so did Megan’s mum.’

Yvonne felt so, so tired. What could she say to that? It was exactly what she herself had thought. She was sick of it all - being the bread winner who just wanted to put a crust on the table, being desperate for a decent night’s sleep, feeling one degree under all the time and never-endingly, always being cash strapped and impoverished. She so wanted to give her daughter a better chance in life than she’d had but nothing ever worked out.

‘I know... well, we’ll say no more about it then,’ she sighed looking down. ‘The school were happy with that contract thing, fat lot of good that it was. I’ve got to run now or I’ll be late for work. Dad’s not come home so you’ll have to listen out for him.’

‘Bye then Mum.’ Obviously Crystal was relieved but also she felt dejected to hear Mum’s bewildered sadness.

A quick call to Sarah on her iPhone to say how Mr. Grant had saved her like a knight in shining armour, and then she’d plan her evening.

***

Crystal, academically very bright, good at most subjects, and never happier than when she was learning, was devoted to her greatest passion, writing. At home she would cocoon herself in her bedroom with a cheap, value pack of salt and vinegar crisps to pick at, slurped down with low sugar coke, just spending hours recording her thoughts on paper or, when the Wifi was working, contributing to various sites. Dan, the nice guy who’d bought the next door flat had shared his wireless password so she could often get on line. She owed her iPhone and lappy to him. He always passed on his surplus gadgets to her when he upgraded. He was an Afghanistan veteran although only twenty-eight, wheelchair bound and internet dependant. Last year Dan had developed a fun video game for iPads which had proved quite popular. Now he was working on version II which, he hoped, would confirm his name as an app designer.

After homework and studying, Crystal’s blog and diaries took priority, supplemented by long, soul-bearing emails and letters to pen-pals. She hankered after being an author but it was too much of a commitment to start a novel or even a short story while the GCSEs loomed so she contented herself with widening her reading. Other people’s writing was stimulating. The downside to that was, it intensified the longing to write herself. She opened her laptop and logged on, working through contentedly till sleep time.

***

Crystal was just dozing off in a lovely warm blend of revolving colours and pretends about adventures where she starred with a hot boyfriend, when there was a thump at the front door followed by grunting and a slipping, stumbling noise. She was instantly wide awake. Dad was home. That meant she’d have to negotiate her way out of the flat in the morning without breakfast as he’d be collapsed on the sofa in his stupor. He couldn’t stand what he called ‘the reek of someone stuffing their face’ when that happened.

A mumbling sounded from outside then some loud swearing interspersed with a fist crashing on the door as he fumbled around. Mum would be flaked out in bed by now. After work in the evening she had to go straight to sleep to be up again at five. Crystal certainly wasn’t getting up to open the door for him. She’d done that a few times and what happened was unpredictable.

Once he must have been leaning on the door as he’d head over heeled into the front room. He’d been too far gone to get up and spent the night snoring on the floor. Another time he’d started yelling at imagined passers-by to stop staring. Crystal felt so angry that her dad showed himself up like that. She was embarrassed mainly for him but also for herself. She had to live there too.

At least he’d made it home this time. Mum was glad when he stayed out all night but Crystal was worried something bad had happened to him. In spite of everything Crystal loved her mum and dad.

Now the voice was louder. He’d obviously managed to open the front door.

‘Vonne, you there?’ No answer. ‘Someones gotta look at ma foot. Think I cut it or something.’ No answer.

Louder this time, ‘Vonne,’.

Very loud, ‘Vonne! You there?’

Crystal knew her mum wouldn’t respond. She snaked out of bed and into her silky summer wrap. It could be chilly at night even in summer.

‘What’s up, Dad?’ Goodness what a mess he was. Stinking of booze, he’d sicked something bile-like down his tee. His creased trousers hung below his bloated, hairy tummy and, worst of all, one leg was blooded.

No energy needed to be spent trying to figure out his mood or guessing what he wanted. She would have to clean up his leg. Maybe alcoholics got blood poisoning more easily that clean people. She was no nurse but she’d do her best for Dad, poor bloke.

Dad passed out before Crystal finished first aid on his cut leg. She managed as best she could to make him comfortable. She couldn’t wake him so she covered him with a candlewick throw from the couch, put a cup of water on the coffee table and sighing, went back to bed.

***

Don't miss the next installment of ''Crystal King – 21st Century Girl'! Find out what happens when Crystal's dad wakes up!
Coming soon on @deemarshall!

Thank you for reading!

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Poor Crystal. What a childhood.

Brilliant writing.

That's the 21st Century for you...

Thanks for reading it.

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