The Royal Betrayal

As mother peels the potatoes, she whistles to herself. It is a habit of hers. Everytime she cooks or patches up holes in my clothes, she whistles a soft tune. I don't know why she does it but she does. Sometimes I wonder if she even realises she is doing it. "Mum, where's dad?" I ask. She pauses and looks across at me. "Where do you think?" I sigh. "Down the road, drinking?" Mother nods. "I'll lock the bastard out if he so much as comes back with a rotten mouth." Last nights memory of dad flashes across my mind. Last night he returned home from his friends place and stumbled all over the house, knocked things over and even had the nerve to slap mother when she scolded him for his behaviour. I shudder at the memory. "Are you O.K?" I ask mother. She plops the potatoes into the boiling water and faces me. "Don't you worry about me, dear. Worry about your homework. God forbid you grow up to be anything like your father and I. Education is important." She nods at my opened books on the table in front of me. "O.K," I say quietly. I concentrate on my school work when the front door swings open. I hear mother groan from the kitchen. "What is with all the glum faces?" father asks. His polo shirt is crinkled and dirty. His chestnut brown hair is scruffy and is in dire need of a haircut and a thorough wash. He stumbles in and closes the door. "You're drunk again," mother retorts. "So what? That doesn't mean I deserve to come home to a couple of grouches. Smile once in a while, would you?" he fires. I watch as he ambles passed us and out of sight. A door slams down the hallway. I glance at mother. "Ignore him," she mutters. Nodding, I get back to my school work. Mother serves up potato mash and a slice of toast. "Is dad not eating?" I ask. Mother joins me at the table. "He is most likely passed out from alcohol consumption. I am done caring for that man, Kayla. He chooses to drink away our money and forget us, so I can do the same." "Why are we still here, mum?" I whisper. "Where else do we have, Kayla? My own family wants nothing to do with me and they haven't for almost fifteen years. Your father's family is no better. I have no money and no where to go. This is the life I am stuck with. I hope you know I have done the best I can raising you under the circumstances." "I know you have, mum. Why don't you try and reach out to them again? Send them a letter or something. Maybe it's time to try again," I tell her. "Look, adult issues are adults issues. When you are old enough, you will understand things better." When you're old enough... I am almost sixteen. When will she stop treating me like a child? "Fine." After dinner, I gather my books and head to my room. My room is the size of a walk in closet. There is a bucket in the corner where the ceiling leaks during rainy days and nights. I place my school books on the old chipped wooden desk and crawl into bed. Just as I drift off to sleep... "No, Carina! You don't get to tell me what to do! I didn't choose this life, you chose it for me! So yes, I will do whatever I want!" "Someone had to do the right thing, Frank! I covered your mistakes and I think it is time you owned up to it and acted like a father!" "Don't you bring that up with me, Carina. It all worked out for you in the end, didn't it?" dad fires. A loud thud echoes through the paper thin walls. "Frank, you are ruining my life. That girl should-" "What that girl needs is to be told the truth. Maybe then you will both stop giving me your pitiful glances and your damn attitude." "No! You will do no such thing, Frank. I am warning you...!" I shove the pillow over my head to drown out their argument. I have overheard many arguments over the years but this is the first time I have been dragged into one of them. Maybe I am a burden and an extra mouth to feed... Their argument dies down and after a good cry, I finally fall asleep. In the morning, I find mother in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, but other than that, she seems her usual self. She is whistling one of her favourite tunes. "Good morning, love," she says. "Morning." "I'm cooking your favourite, scrambled eggs with a slice of toast." Mother always cooks my favourite after one of her and dads arguments. It's as if she saves the eggs just for these occasions. Perhaps it makes her feel better? I wonder. "Thanks." I sit at the table and mother places my breakfast in front of me. "Where did dad disappear to?" I ask. "I saw the bedroom empty when I walked passed." "He had to do an errand," she tells me. "Now eat your breakfast and get ready for school. You don't want to be late." I quickly eat my breakfast, dress for school and shove my sandwich and apple in my school bag. I say a quick goodbye to mother before I head off to school. The sun is warm against my face. I stroll down the long dirt road and pass three kookaburras sitting on an old wooden fence. I kick a stone across the gravel. "Kayla! Kayla! Wait up!" I turn around and spot Justin running down his driveway. "Hey, thanks for waiting. I didn't expect to see you. Usually I'm the one at school well and truly before you are. Either I'm late this morning or you're early." I smile. "I'm early." Justin and I aren't exactly friends but he is the only one who is polite to me at school and doesn't judge me for being who I am. I was invisible at school until he arrived at Emerald State High School four months ago. I was appointed as his tour guide and I had to familiarise him with the school buildings and show him where all his classes were. He has been friendly to me ever since. He pulls a licorice twist out of his pocket and snaps off a piece. "Do you want a piece?" I shake my head. "No thanks." He raises an eyebrow. "No? It's like the best stuff ever." "Thanks but I'm fine." He shrugs. "Suit yourself." I kick another stone across the gravel road. "So, uh, are you going to the school disco Friday night?" "No." Justine raises an eyebrow. "Is that because you don't want to go, or because you have no-one to go with?" "I, uh, it's not really my thing," I answer. Justine pushes his square rimmed glasses up his nose. "What is your thing, then?" How am I meant to answer that when I don't really have a "thing?" "I like reading," I quickly answer. "Hmm, so do I. That doesn't mean I'll miss the disco, though." I don't respond. How do I explain to him just how poor my family really is? I eat leftovers for dinner. My father is an alcoholic who spends all our money. The only money we get for food is what my mother earns for ironing Mrs Gardners clothes once a week. My father illegally drives a rusted out ute. I dress in raggy clothes and my school uniforms were given to me for free from Mrs Gardiners grown daughter. It's embarrassing just how poor we really are. I can't tell him my parents won't be able to afford the gold coin donation for the disco. As nice as he is to me, I just can't open up. I don't want the only person in the school who is friendly to me to hate me like everyone else does. "What's with the long face?" Justin asks, breaking through my thoughts. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the disco. It actually sounds like fun. I might see you there," I lie. Justin smiles. "I hope so." Justin isn't what you would call attractive, or hot, but he isn't ugly, either. He is rather nerdy but he obviously has more friends than I do. At the school gate, we share a goodbye and head our seperate ways. The day drags on. Everyone is talking about the upcoming disco and the girls discuss what they're going to wear. I overhear Jodie, Leah and Carla talking about travelling to Rockhampton to pick out a dress. Emerald is a dead end town with three pubs, a school, a cinema, one grocery store, a second-hand store, a couple of cafes, a train station, a small post office, and several empty buildings where businesses have closed down. The "upper class" families work away in mines, giving their kids the financial freedom and luxuries I could only ever dream of. I hope one day I'll have the opportunity to not have to worry about my next meal, or travel where I want to and to shop where I want. I head to my final lesson, English. I am over hearing about the upcoming disco and cross my fingers English will be an escape from all the excitement that I know I will miss out on. "Hey, blondie," Jodie calls from behind me. Is she talking to me? I turn around. Her green eyes are staring right at me. "Yes?" She smiles coyly. "What are you wearing to the disco? You do have a dress, don't you?" I quickly nod. "Sure." Jodie glances at her friend. They both chuckle under their breath. "Sure you do." She flicks her raven hair over a shoulder and widens her smile. "Who is your date?" I cannot tell if she is being nice to me or if she is simply being nosy. She and her friends have barely spoken a word to me in five years. "I don't know," I say quietly. "Hmm. Maybe that nerdy guy. What's his name? Justin?" I shake my head. "No, he's not my date." "Oh, too bad. You're both pathetic." I quickly face the front of the classroom. Why are they targetting me with their nastiness? I have never done anything to them. Tears sting my eyes. "I heard rats live more comfortable than Kayla's family does," Savannah says. "Her father is a drunk and her mother is some weird old hag." I pretend to not hear them as tears spill down my face. I concentrate on the notes scrawled across the blackboard but my eyes are too blurry from my tears. "You don't say," Jodie drawls. When the bell drones to signal the end of the school day, I quickly gather my books and flee from the classroom. I don't stop. I run from the hateful words of Jodie and Savannah. I run from the students who have never given me the chance or bothered to get to know me. I run from the school, the only place I have to go that is away from home. I run through the gates and I don't stop for anything. I vaguely hear Justin call my name but I don't stop. My legs are aching but I ignore the pain. I get home in record time. I shove the door open, ignoring and loud crash behind me and head straight to my room. "Kayla? Kayla!" mother calls. My response is the slam of my bedroom door. I throw my bag on the floor and flop on my bed. I bury my face in the pillow and scream into it. A knock sounds on the door. "Go away!" I yell. The door creaks open and mother pops her head in. "Darling, what's the matter?" Catching my breath, I glance at my mother. "I hate you. I hate you and dad and I hate this life! I wish I was dead!"