RYOT GRL

Chapter 2

“Come on Dodo get up”. Yes, Dodo like the bird. I have been the butt of every joke ever since birth. My mum liked the prehistoric bird so much she named me after it. Ruben gets up, letting the cold invade me from the soft spot he left behind. “Ruben”, I yell but mum is already tugging at my arm, practically pulling me out of bed. “Dodo. Now. We’ve got to get driving if we want to be there before dark”. And I groan, heavily so she knows just how frustrated she’s making me and walk into the bathroom. I slept in my clothes from last night since I was so tired all I wanted to do was go straight to sleep. And I knew that I would need it for today, since when mum gets a new idea in her head that’s it, there's no persuading her off it. “Did we really have to move again?”, I huff as she applies her mascara in the cracked mirror of our motel room. “You know why Dodo”. I roll my eyes. My mum has a phobia to commitment, except for me and Ruben she’s never been able to commit to anyone else. I’ve lost count of all the boyfriends and marriage proposals. Whenever I start to get comfortable somewhere she tells me to pack up and leave with no questions asked. That’s how it was like before, but it’s my 17th birthday soon and I have no choice but to ask questions. We can’t keep moving, she doesn’t see she’s ruining my future and any chance I have of making it into any good colleges, let alone a community one.

“I’ll see you in the car”, and she takes her bags and mine and walks out leaving me with Ruben. I stroke his big body. “I bet you’re sick of moving boy”, I murmur as I rub his back. I feel sorry for him, it can’t be good for a dog to have to keep moving. All those car journeys and eating motel food has taken its toll on him. If he got lost, where would he run, we don’t have a place we can call home. I finish the rest of my makeup applying thick eyeliner, black smoky eyes, and black lipstick. Mum hates my makeup; says I’m trying to look too much like a goth. Which isn’t true. I like how people look at me when they see me for the first time, like they can’t believe I would go out dressed so out of the social norms. I especially love the looks of horror from elderly people or when I walk into a supermarket. It’s always the same wide eyes and disapproving looks that I love. I’m wearing my black Metallica shirt, my black jeans that are ripped on both knees and my combat boots.

I take Ruben and trudge out of the motel room, slamming the door behind me. I walk past the front desk and a man who’s 3 times the size of me, dressed in a blue shirt and overalls comes out; his cheeks puffing as he strides over to me. “You’re not supposed to have a dog in there”, he says sternly. He’s pointing an accusing finger at me and knowing all too well how badly this can go down, I turn on my heel and run which isn’t such a good idea with Ruben since he thinks it’s a game and runs faster so I’m sprinting to keep up with him. When we near the car I tell him to slow down, but I can still hear the man’s breathless shouts from behind me. I jump in the backseat with Ruben in tow and my mum reverses quickly sensing the urgency. I look behind to see the man turning into a small figure as we drive away.

Despite growing up in the care system my mum had a trust fund to be accessed when she was 18, by her dead parents. They were rich politicians and over a course of their career made quite a lot of money including a few properties. That’s how she never works and how we can move around as often as we like, because we’ve got the money too. When we pull up at the house, it’s a nice two bed flat near the beach. The sun is shining, and I spot some people my age staring at my mum and me. Their looks tell me that it’s the first time they’ve seen anyone remotely look like me, and I smile and wave so not to add to their pretences. “This is nice. Isn’t it”, my mum mutters and all I can do is shrug. When you see enough places and move as much as I do you become immune to the change of scenery. “And there’s a school down the road from here. We’ll enrol you tomorrow”.

“Yay. I can’t wait”, I mock flatly, and she frowns. “Fresh start Dodo. This time for good”, and I give her a fake smile because I’ve heard it all before and I’m not going to keep pretending her dragging me across the country every time she feels like it is ok with me anymore. “This has to be the last time Mum. I can’t keep doing this”, I say sternly, and she nods but I spot the slight fear in her eyes. She’s worried that I won’t be around forever. It’s always just been me and her, but it can’t be like that always. I’m going to have to leave sometime.

“Go see your room”, she utters, and I do, holding my suitcase and my box full of my other things inside. My bedroom is slightly bigger than the one I had before. The paint looks fresh, and its white no horrible beige. “I think I’ll call you January”, I say as it’s the 3rd of January and I’m not feeling especially imaginary today. It doesn’t take me to long to unpack the things from my suitcase. I don’t bother with my boxes instead opting to kick them under the bed and forget about them until we must pack up and move again. I’m not holding my breathe. “Dodo. Do you want to walk around the place for a bit?”, mum calls and I shout a less than enthusiastic yes back. It’s something we do when we move in, walk around, ask locals where the best place to eat and see is. We try and see the best part of the city because inevitably we move on before we get comfortable. I take off some of my makeup, leaving my eyes.

I run downstairs dressed in my pyjama shorts, my oversized grey hoodie and my hair tied in a bun. My mum as always when she wants to look her best is dressed in her grey blouse and denim jeans; her hair straightened to perfection and her makeup cleaned up. She’s in every way perfect, which makes it easy for her to pick up potential suitors. “I think we’re really going to like it here”, she announces, her voice full of hope and links arms with me as we get out of the house. The town is only a short walk away, so we mooch around in the street smiling at locals and quickening our step when we see a strange man near us. When we get into town it’s vibrant and there’s a street market with stalls that’s selling fresh fruit and vegetables and other items. Mum grabs a basket filling it up and chatting to locals as she does. I look around at the other stalls selling jewellery. I pick up a necklace and the women running the stall snatches it away from me. “I don’t need you trying to steal my stuff. Move along”, she barks at me and I look at her completely outraged. “I was just looking”, I assure her. “Do you think I’m stupid move along”, she spits more aggressively, causing attention from passers-by. “Ma’am are you alright?”, a police officer comes up to us looking suspiciously at me. His hands are on his hip and I look down at his g*n. “She was trying to steal something from my stall”. “No, I wasn’t I was...”, and I feel a hand on my arm and a boy my age is eyeing me. He’s got intense green eyes, black hair styled to the side and a wide mischievous grin plastered on his face. He leans down, and for a minute I think he’s going to kiss me and my heart ricochets. “Run”, and he bolts bringing me with him. I’m quick on my feet, weaving through stalls and following his lead with our joined hands. I hear the police officer shouting in the distance, but we keep running, until we get to the corner of the street and slip into the alleyway hiding behind the bins. I watch as the police officer comes into view, looking around, his g*n in his hand as he decides where to go. I’m holding my breath, my heart pounding, breathing a sigh of relief when he continues up the street without checking the alleyway. I wait until he disappears from sight and stand up to address the boy. “Thanks for that”.

“I’ve had my fair share of run ins with the police. I can see when someone needs help”, he chimes. “I’m Castle”, he muses, and I furrow my brows in suspicion. “Is that your real name?”, I ask, and he smirks. “Yes, and yours would be”. “Dodo”. He rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to give me a fake name just because you think mine is”. “My real name is Dodo. My mum thought she was being clever giving me a one-of-a-kind name of an extinct bird”, I huff, and his smile widens. “Well, I’ll see you around Dodo”, and he winks and runs off, in the same direction we came from.