The New Normal
Jayla is 15 and has recently been taken into care following the death of her mother.
(2-3 minutes)
The new normal they called it.
They’ve even got 2 guinea pigs … Bob and Mrs Crankshaw. Nothing normal about that.
I told ‘em, “I don’t like bein’ ‘ere and I don’t like guinea pigs.”
“Give it time,” they said.
“No,” I said. “I ain’t never gonna like no guinea pigs.”
And they said, “Not the guinea pigs … all of it.”
And I said, “No way.”
… ‘Cause it were bad enough losing me’ mam … like that … you know?
And never seeing me’ Dad again was like … well I dunno; was it good or bad?
I wrote to ‘im. Musta wrote about a dozen letters. I give em to Sandra – she’s nothing like a mum; don’t wear make-up, don’t let me drink her booze, and she cooks meals and cakes and shit like that. I ‘aven’t been t’chippy once since coming here.
Anyway, me’ Dad never wrote back. Sandra promised she posted the letters, but I dunno if that’s true. And then one day Jason (the new dad) come home and he’s got, like, this bag of lettuce and he says, “Do you wanna feed Bob and Mrs Crankshaw?”
“Get lost,” I said. “You know I hate Guinea pigs.”
So Jason says, “That’s cool.”
Didn’t make me or nothing … and goes to feed ‘em ‘imself.
I watched from the back window … their little teeth nibbling away… Do guinea pigs smile? I dunno.
Anyway, Jason sees me and waves, like, a come-out-and-join-me kinda wave. And when I wouldn’t, Sandra brings one of ‘em inside instead.
The brown and white one … Mrs Crankshaw.
“Why’s it called that?” I said. Cos it looks like her old school teacher, she said. Made me laugh, that did. Cos I could just imagine Mrs Evans, or Miss Davis munching their way through some disgustin’ salad during break, while I was out there in the playground trying to ignore the whisperin’ about me’ dad …
… and what he did to me’ mum …
She put Mrs Crankshaw on my lap then.
And it turns out I don’t hate guinea pigs after all.
© Wendy Storer 2020