Saving the Little Girl Next Door
Copyright© 2004 by ku
Chapter 1
When I came out of my mommy's... uh, belly button, the doctor dropped me on the floor. When I fell, the first thing to make contact with the floor was my mouth. Thank God I landed on my mouth instead of my head.
I remember the first day at school. Little kids went up to me and introduced themselves. I always introduced myself politely: "Hi, I'm Keith." But when I smiled, they ran away. I learnt at a very young age never to smile. Everyone always asked, "What's wrong?" when they saw me because I always looked sad.
I remember my childhood vividly. I lived in Bird Street, a typical suburban street in the rich suburb of Brighton. Houses in Bird Street were all two-stories high. They had moist green lawns, colourful gardens, and prestige cars parked outside in the driveways. These prestige cars were never parked in garages. What's the point of the Mercedes logo if you can't show it off?
Both my parents always worked when I grew up. In the old days fathers forced their wives to stay home to take care of the children, but my economist father encouraged my mom to work because, as he said, "assuming that both parents are paid equally, a working mother doubles the household income." Whatever. If I had to name a defining feature of my childhood it would be boredom. Of all the people I saw in Bird Street nearly all of them were old grandmas and grandpas. When my parents realized I was lonely and had no friends at school, they adopted a kid from Africa to be my brother. His name was Sherwin.
I have a weird next-door neighbour. His name was Wayne. Wayne is a retired farmer who moved from the country to have a go at suburban life. He lived alone and worked as a taxi driver during the day.
The only girl who didn't run away when I smiled was my babysitter, a college student named Jesse. I liked her a lot.
Growing up with Sherwin was so much fun. At home we played cricket in the backyard. When we hung out downtown we snuck into the backs of restaurants to steal food. One time the head chef of a Chinese restaurant caught us with our hands in a bag of prawns, but we ran away quickly enough. In school other kids always teased me for playing with a black kid, but I never listened to them. One arrogant fat kid even had the nerve to pick a fight with Sherwin because he was black. But I taught that fat kid a lesson by mixing my poo with sugar and throwing the gooey brown substance in his locker. The next morning his smelly locker was filled with ants.
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