Author's Note: These are drabbles, which are stories of only 100 words. The following is part of The Crawford Series which I am still in the process of writing. The series follows a class of British school children through primary school. I have written a drabble for each of the children. Please R&R
Crawford Series Drabbles
Four birthday cake candles glowed dimly in the dark room. Six-year-old Oliver wiped away a tear that had trickled slowly down his pale cheek. It was his brother, Josh's, fourth birthday. It was also four years ago that Mummy had gone away. Daddy always said that Mummy was in Heaven, with God. Oliver still missed her even though he couldn't recall anything about her. He knew that Mummy smelled of vanilla. And that Daddy tried to be a Daddy and a Mummy at the same time.
Josh smiled, Daddy took pictures with the camera and Oliver tried to look happy.
Freezing cold gusts of wind rippled the surface of the lake as Ayla and her brother, Mark, stood arguing at the lakeside. Ayla had her hands on her hips as she shouted, "You're so stupid. You made us lost!"
"It's not my fault!" Mark yelled back as the wind whipped around the pair of siblings.
They were on yet another family camping trip and, somehow, whilst they had been walking they had gotten lost and separated from their parents. Sheets of icy rain lashed down and blustery gales were howling constantly.
Five-year-old Ayla shivered. They'd find their way back soon.
Xaria was nervous, you could even say scared. Her little hand clung to her mother's. Today was her first day at a new school. Crawford Village Primary School. Xaria liked her old school; she hadn't wanted to move. But Daddy's job had moved so she, Mummy and Daddy had had to move away from London. She had been told that there were only twelve kids in her new class; in Xaria's old class there'd been thirty-five. She'd had to leave her best friend, Kyra. Mummy and Daddy said that Xaria would make more new friends.
She was the new kid.
Ten-year-old India sighed. Her step-brother, Richard, who was eleven, had come home from boarding school. Technically, he'd been suspended. Again. Her step-father, Edward, didn't seem to care. He'd just donate some money and all would be forgotten. India didn't know what Mother saw in Edward, or why she put up with Richard's bad behaviour. In truth, India was the same. She considered Richard her equal. Although India played the good girl for adults, she was the evil bitch underneath the act.
Richard sauntered into the room with a cocky smile on his face, "Hey, sis!"
"Get real," India countered spitefully.
Light yellow blonde hair fell into Rebecca's bright turquoise blue eyes as she stuck out her tongue in deep concentration; she was desperately trying to prove that just because she was blonde, it didn't mean she was stupid. She may be a little bit … weird and have some strange, eccentric ideas about things but that didn't mean she was stupid. And just because she liked bugs and thought that normal was boring and dull, it did not mean she was stupid.
But that didn't stop Rebecca's classmates, particularly the boys, thinking that she was just another stupid, dumb blonde.
Matthew gazed at the pile of presents under the Christmas tree. It was Christmas Eve and Mummy and Daddy had said that he could open one present early. Now he only had to choose which one. Matthew was quite spoiled. He was an only child, had been hard to conceive and was born prematurely. When he was born, he had a 10% chance of survival. But he'd pulled through. Although Matthew was spoiled he didn't act like a brat. He was caring and sometimes quite shy. Finally, Matthew selected a present from under the tree.
"Can I have that one?"
Seven-year-old Peter was hiding in his room. Well, not really hiding – just staying away from the living room. Tonight it was family night; every Tuesday each member of the Quentin family had to present or perform or show something. Adults were exempt – much to the children's annoyance – but eleven-year-old twins, Aaron and Simon, would do magic tricks again and four-year-old Jessica would probably show off a drawing she'd done at nursery. Peter never knew what to do.
He heard the voice of his mother call up the stairs, "Peter, it is family night. Have you forgotten?"
There was no escape.
Daisy sat, hugging her knees close to her chest, as sobs and cries wracked through her small body; Daddy was being nasty again so Daisy had taken refuge in her bedroom. Downstairs, Mummy was crying too. It was late; far too late for a seven-year-old to be awake. Her golden hair was messy and her brown eyes filled with tears. Only Mummy and her knew how mean Daddy could be. Miss Evans at school didn't know. And neither did her friends; not even Xaria. But sometimes Daddy was nice. But rarely.
One more time Daisy wished for a better Daddy.
Eight-year-old Freddie was trying to be quiet. For him it was proving to be quite difficult. He was usually bouncing off the walls with energy and chattering about anything and everything so he felt proud that he could achieve some level of quietness. Freddie was spying on his thirteen-year-old step-sister, Cara, and pretending to be a secret agent. He poked his head around the door of Cara's room but she and her friends were out of sight.
Suddenly Cara realised he was there; she had gooey, blue face mask on her face.
"Go away, freak!"
Freddie ran away, screaming loudly.
Ten-year-old Tomas scowled at his step-mother; Dawn was trying to be nice and was speaking in a sickly, sugary sweet voice. Tomas' real mother had left when he was just three and his Dad often spoke badly of her. Then, two years later, Dawn came along. Tomas' younger sister, Phoebe who was eight, liked Dawn, though he couldn't understand why. He guessed that it might be because Phoebe had never known their real mother; she had only been only one when she had left.
"Tomas, sweetie, do you want to go to the park?" Dawn asked.
Tomas rolled his eyes.
Eleven-year-old Jen dashed quickly down the stairs like a wild, mini tornado, her long, wavy, dirty-blonde hair flying behind her. When she reached the bottom she tore around the corner at high speed, heading for the front door and yelled loudly, "Bye Grandma. I'm going to Leigh's house!"
Jen's Grandma, a rather formidable looking woman, appeared from the lounge. Jen had lived with Grandma, her Dad's mother, since her parents had died when Jen was two. Jen knew that although Grandma looked scary, she actually wasn't half as frightening.
"Dear, take a jacket. It might get cold."
"Grandma, it's July!"
Nine-year-old Leighanna was excited; today her Dad was getting home. He had been away on a business trip to New York in America for two weeks. Mum and her twelve-year-old sister Molly were cooking in the kitchen and had sent her away because she kept doing things wrong. Leighanna didn't mind though. She knew that she was a bad cook. So, instead, she had put her creative talents to use and had made her Dad a 'Welcome Home' card. It had glitter, sparkles and a picture, drawn in crayon, on the front.
Suddenly the front door opened; Dad was home!
Kyle sighed and stared out the window at the passing fields. His Mum was driving him and his two older sisters, Karina and Janelle, to see their Dad; his parents had divorced when he was young and now, as Kyle grew older, the visits were becoming more infrequent. Karina and Janelle were arguing loudly in the back seat and Kyle could see that his Mum was getting stressed; she was already annoyed she had to drive so far. Going to Dad's was such a hassle.
Mum shouted at Karina and Janelle and, to Kyle, the fields became a greenish blur.