I Don't Want Orange Juice and Cookies

Amanda was furious.

She kicked the car, she kicked the tree, she tried to kick the policeman on the shin, but he moved and she lost her balance and fell unceremoniously into a puddle. The resultant chuckles from the adults around brought tears of rage to her eyes. They mingled with the raindrops already wetting her cheeks.

Her mother had told her to go to a policeman if she ever needed help. And she had gone. And he had refused to help her. He wouldn't write down her complaint. He didn't take down Gary's phone number, so that he could call Gary's father and have him punished. He said Gary was a nice boy, he wouldn't deliberately lead Amanda over a wet patch of grass so she would skid and crash into a tree. What did he know about Gary, anyway? Gary always did what he was not supposed to do, and got away with it by smiling.

He was smiling now.

Gary had that unctuous smirk on his face, the I didn't do anything, you got yourself in trouble smirk.

How Amanda hated that smirk. She had hated it since her fifth birthday, two years ago, when Gary had sneaked into her bedroom where her presents were. Not only had he unwrapped all the presents, he had pulled out pieces from the jigsaws and put them into other boxes, mixed up the games and blocks, and - worst of all - undressed the dolls. He had sneaked out of the room again, and never been linked to the crime.

Amanda remembered the sight of her bed, a mass of mixed up stuff and torn wrapping paper topped with two naked dolls. She saw that sight sometimes in her nightmares, still.

She aimed a kick at Gary.

* * * * * * * * *

She didn't want orange juice and she didn't want cookies. She didn't want a silly policewoman in a white coat cooing over her and saying that naughty little girls need to be good. She wanted her mother to come to the police station and take her home. Her mother wouldn't give her orange juice and cookies, she would probably send her to her room without lunch, but Amanda didn't mind that. She could deal with her mother, she had been dealing with her ever since her father had slammed the door and gone away forever.

That was a sound she heard in her nightmares, still. It had been echoing in her mind for the last three years, that door slamming. She didn't remember her father very well, he had been away a lot and then away forever. She wanted to hate him, but she didn't know enough about him to hate. And she couldn't hate him anyway, he had sent her the best gift ever, yesterday.

He had never sent her a gift before.

Then, out of nowhere, the delivery van had come to the door, with a huge package addressed to "Miss Amanda Eileen Jennifer Rose". She had never been called 'Miss' before, that was thrilling.

Even more thrilling was the package.

After the bubble-wrap and brown paper had been removed and the carton opened, there it stood, on the lawn, a gleaming green car, just the right size for a seven year old to drive with her dolls and teddy bear next to her. It even had a rear-view mirror, headlights that went on and off like in a real car, and a lovely black steering wheel with a horn in the middle. The pedals were marked 'Right Foot', 'Left Foot' and 'Stop'.

Her mother had locked it up immediately, muttering something about 'that man bribing the child'. Amanda had watched her mother drag the car away, her eyes gleaming. She knew how to unlock the spare room door without a key, she had seen the trick on TV. All it needed was a hair clip, and she had that.

So, when her mother left for work that Saturday morning, leaving Amanda alone as she usually did, Amanda hardly waited for the real car to turn out of the driveway before getting her toy one out. It didn't matter that it was raining, it was a whole week till next Saturday and she couldn't wait a whole week to drive it.

She had forgotten about Gary.

In her excitement, she had forgotten that of course Gary would see her from his window and come over. She was so intent on mastering the pedals and the steering wheel, that she obeyed his, "This way, Amanda" without even thinking.

Skid - crash - ha ha ha ha ha.

The only present her father had ever given her lay there, totally ruined, at the side of the lawn, under the tree, the lights blinking on and off crazily.

On, off, on, off - off - off.

She knew she had blacked out for a moment, but she hadn't told anyone that. They wouldn't listen anyway. Nobody listened to her. The policeman didn't take her complaint - he had told her not to kick people and had taken her to the police station. There, the policewoman in the white coat had taken her into a room and taken her clothes off, so that she was naked like her dolls. She had pressed her all over, to check for broken bones, looked into her eyes, ears and mouth, and had put something that stung on her bruises. She had even made her lie on her tummy and poked her in her bottom.

"You're lucky, dear, nothing much wrong," she had cooed, as she helped her dress again.

Lucky? Nothing much wrong? Adults were stupid, the way they cooed and the way they said that nothing was wrong when everything was. Her car was ruined, her dress was torn, her mother was already mad and would be madder, she had had to be naked and get an injection and Gary had won again.

There was lot wrong.

Gary would smirk at her again.

The thought brought more angry drops to her eyes, and she hit out at the cooing policewoman who tried to comfort her. Orange juice and cookies went flying, just as her mother came running into the police station.

* * * * * * * * *

Everything hurt.

Her bruises hurt. Her head hurt. Her tummy hurt - maybe she was hungry. Her mother hadn't cooked lunch, and she had refused to eat dinner. Her ears hurt from her mother's yelling. Her bottom hurt where she had been jabbed. She had cried so much, her eyes hurt.

She was still crying, only they didn't know it.

She made sure her pillow muffled her sobs. If they knew she was awake, they wouldn't talk. They were whispering, which was good - a whisper carries through a child's bedroom door - the significant words do, anyway.

Amanda Eileen Jennifer Rose knew that her future was being decided.

Her grandparents had driven down in response to her mother's frantic phone call, getting there just in time to say goodnight to her. Now, they were talking. Her mother was saying, let him have her, now that he has a woman in his life who can be a step-mom to her, now that he's willing to send cars to bribe her.

The car was ruined, though, thanks to Gary. Would her father be mad about that, too? She didn't know him well enough to know what made him mad, she only knew that when he did get mad, he slammed the door. Would he slam the door, if he heard the car was ruined? Would her mother tell him that? Did her mother have his phone number, to tell him, take your daughter and take the ruined car? Take them, let the step-mom look after them.

The step-mom.

Step-mom. What would a step-mom be like? Gary's step-mom was quite stupid, she knew. She believed everything Gary said, especially when he smiled. She didn't even know when Gary was kidding or lying. Maybe if her new step-mom was stupid, it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she would even get her another green car with real headlights.

Her stomach gave a rumble.

Luckily, it wasn't loud enough for the adults outside to hear. Adults were stupid, anyway, they didn't recognise sounds in the night the way that children did.

Her stomach rumbled again. Quietly, she sneaked out of bed. The policewoman in the white coat had turned out to be kind after all, she had told her mother not to yell and had given Amanda a fresh packet of cookies and a tetra-pack of orange juice to take with her. They were in Amanda's coat pocket, hanging on the doll's crib. She tiptoed across the room and brought the coat to her bed.

Sitting on her bed, she opened the packet of cookies. She was so skilled, she opened them without a single crinkling sound, even though it was dark. They were quite good. She liked cookies with raisins in them. She was careful not to get crumbs on the bed Her mother would freak if she found crumbs on the bed. Would her new step-mom mind if she ate in bed? She poked the straw through the tetra-pack and drank the orange juice. She felt better. She ate all the cookies in the packet, and drank up the orange juice to the last drop, making sure she didn't make any slurping sounds.

Then, she flung the coat and the empty packets on to the floor. She would pick them up in the morning. Her mother would freak if she found them there, but she was too tired to bother. It didn't matter, anyway, what her mother would freak over, if there was going to be a new step-mom.

Things were hurting a little less.

She fell asleep hoping she would go to a stupid step-mom, and planning how to trick her into buying another green car with real headlights.



Third place: "What a Character! : Official WDC Contest" 
"What a Character - November 2010 Winners!" 
Third Place - "I Don't Want Orange Juice and Cookies"

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