It was Willow’s seventh birthday and the house was decorated with Krazy Kitten balloons. The Krimbles always celebrated their children’s birthdays by holding a small gathering with immediate family and just a few of their children’s closest friends.
It was 5pm when the doorbell rang. A nine-year-old boy shouted, “I’ll get it!” He slid down the staircase banister and answered the door. Two elderly people peered down at him.
“Grandma, Grandpa!” the boy screeched enthusiastically, hugging his Grandma Trisha and his Grandpa Theo around their waists. Grandma Trisha looked down at him suspiciously.
“Well, hello, Wyatt,” she said hugging him back. “The way you’re carrying on, one might think it was your birthday.”
Wyatt grabbed Grandpa Theo around the wrist and pulled him across the threshold. Grandpa Theo almost tripped.
“Whoa,” he said. “What’s the rush?”
Wyatt glared at his grandfather with a huge smile.
“Did you bring it, Grandpa?”
Grandpa Theo rubbed his chin.
“Now, let’s see … was I supposed to bring something?”
Wyatt tugged hard on his grandfather’s shirt.
“Grandpaaaa?”
Grandpa Theo reached behind his back and pulled out an old weathered comic book.
“As promised,” he said.
“Wow! The first issue of Warrior Skull! I can’t believe it!”
“It’s not in the best condition, mind you. I’ve had it since I was your age, but I would imagine it would still fetch a pretty penny.”
“Oh, I’m never selling this, Grandpa.”
“Wyatt, who was at the door?” a voice called from the kitchen. “Oh, hi, Mom. Hey, Dad,” Mrs. Krimble greeted her parents, joining them in the living room. She was accompanied by a frail, withered man at her side. They seemed to be walking arm-and-arm, but upon closer examination, anyone could see that the man was leaning on Mrs. Krimble for support. He was gaunt and almost skeletal but he gave his guests a broad, welcoming smile.
“Hey, guys,” said Roger Krimble, taking a seat in the closest chair he could grab.
“How are you feeling, Roger dear?” asked Grandma Trisha, walking over, bending down to give him a kiss.
“Oh, not too bad,” Roger Krimble lied. He was always so fatigued these days. The leukemia he was diagnosed with two years prior, along with the numerous treatments he was undergoing, had taken its toll on his 43-year-old body. But every day was a gift to him and he was thrilled to see his little girl turning seven. He was always happiest when surrounded by family.
___________________________________
Page 70
“Where’s our little angel?” asked Grandpa Theo, gently grasping Mr. Krimble’s shoulder.
“She’s putting on her dress,” replied Mrs. Krimble. “She should be down any minute.”
The doorbell rang again. This time, however, Wyatt was too engrossed in his comic book to care.
“I got it,” said Grandpa Theo.” As he opened the door he saw a six-year-old girl with glasses gazing up at him. She looked extremely uncomfortable wearing a pink dress. She was accompanied by a beautiful black woman with long, kinky black hair, holding a yellow box with a green bow. She smiled at Grandpa Theo.
“Hi, I’m Diane Fiora,” she said, extending her hand.”
Grandpa Theo shook it, smiling.
“Ah, so this is the lovely lady who produced our feisty little Razzel, here.” Razzel smiled up at him, exposing her gums where two front teeth previously occupied. “Please, come in.”
After Razzel and her mother greeted everyone, Razzel sat down next to Wyatt. “Watcha readin’?”
“Only the coolest comic book super hero of all time!” replied Wyatt, holding up his new treasure. “Warrior Skull!”
“What? Warrior Skull’s cool, but everyone knows The Green Moonlight is the coolest super hero ever,” explained Razzel. “Warrior Skull wouldn’t stand a chance against Green Moonlight’s cosmic - ”
Wyatt abruptly stood up, changed his seat and continued reading his comic. Razzel folded her arms and huffed.
Just as Mrs. Krimble was about to reprimand her son for being rude, the birthday girl appeared, walking apprehensively down the stairs. Grandma Trisha was the first to notice her.
“Oh my, look at that sweet little angel.”
Willow was wearing a yellow dress with blue lace and a blue bow in her hair. Yellow and blue were Willow’s favorite colors. The moment her foot made contact with the landing, she ran straight to her mother.
“I don’t know, Mommy. I feel … funny.” She peered down at her exposed prosthetic limb.
Razzel stood up and pointed to her own dress.
“Look at me, Willow. My mommy made me wear a funny dress too. We both look silly together.”
Mrs. Krimble and Mrs. Fiora exchanged smiles.
Razzel grabbed Willow by the hand and pulled her toward the couch.
“Come and open your present … I made it myself.”
“Oh, not yet,” said Mrs. Krimble. “We’re waiting for one more guest to arrive.”
“Who else is coming?” asked Grandma Trisha.
___________________________________
Page 71
“Well, this woman brought her daughter into the emergency room last week,” Mrs. Krimble explained. “I treated her for bumps and bruises. Fell down her basement steps, poor thing. I got to talking with the mother and it turns out they live just a few blocks away on Chincel Street. The little girl’s Willow’s age, so I thought she and Razzel could add a third member to their little crew. She should be here soon, although the mother can’t stay. She’s a hot-shot lawyer with a demanding schedule. Same goes for her husband. She kept nervously glancing at her watch the entire time I tended to her daughter in the ER.”
“A new friend sounds like a great idea,” added Mrs. Fiora. “Razzel doesn’t play well with anyone other than Willow. I hope they all hit it off.”
No sooner did Razzel give her mother a sneering look when the doorbell rang for a third time.
“Got it,” said Grandpa Theo. He opened the door to find a beautiful little girl with long, glistening jet-black hair wearing a white gown, so elegant, she mirrored a flower girl in a wedding party. Alongside her was a large purple box almost as tall as she was. The little girl looked over her shoulder and waved to a car that was parked at the curb. The woman in the car didn’t even bother waving back; she simply sped off.
“Was that your mom?” asked Grandpa Theo.
The little girl gave a nod.
“Well, aren’t you a doll? Grandpa Theo leaned down to get a closer look at the new guest. “What’s your name, princess?”
The little girl looked up at Grandpa Theo apprehensively, looked back down at the floor and responded in a shy whisper… “Shayla.”
3 YEARS LATER....
“Oh, no! My mother’s gonna freak!” Shayla shouted, attempting to shake the fresh mud off of her red silk dress.
“Lighten up, Shay,” said Razzel. “It’ll come out in the wash. No big deal. I keep tellin’ you to wear jeans. Those fancy dresses just get in the way of climbing. This is a tree house, not a doll house.”
“Let’s go inside and see if we can wash it off,” suggested Willow.
The three girls entered Willow’s laundry room through the back garage door.
“Hey Will, can I grab an iced tea?” asked Razzel, opening the mini fridge.
“That’s what they’re there for,” replied Willow. “My mom’s in the kitchen, Shayla. Quick, take off your dress and we’ll run it through the express-cycle.”
Shayla looked at Willow as if she was speaking a foreign language.
“Laundry, Princess,” Razzel exclaimed. “We’ll wash it and no one will know you got it dirty. Your mom’s not picking you up for another hour. That should be just enough time to wash it and throw it into the dryer.”
“How do you guys know all this stuff?” asked Shayla, removing her dress and standing in her underwear.
“I help my mom with the laundry all the time,” replied Willow. “Don’t you?”
Shayla looked quite discomfited for a few silent moments.
“Sasha takes care of that kind of stuff,” she said finally.
___________________________________
Page 72
“Sasha?” said Razzel. “Is that your cleaning lady?”
“Housekeeper,” Shayla corrected.
“Well, excuse me, Your Majesty,” Razzel said with a curtsy. “Maybe tomorrow Sasha can serve us some tea and crumpets at your palace.”
The three friends laughed until Willow noticed a huge purple oval mark on Shayla’s outer left thigh.
“What’s that,” she asked, pointing to the injury.
Shayla’s expression changed quite suddenly.
“Oh … that’s … it’s nothing. I fell.”
“No offense, Shay, but you are quite the klutz,” said Razzel just before taking a huge gulp of Fisher’s Almond Iced Tea.
Willow surveyed Shayla suspiciously.
“You know, Shayla, we’ve been friends for three years now and every time you have a bruise or a scratch, it’s caused by some fall that I haven’t seen.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Shayla, defensively.
Razzel looked puzzled.
“It’s just that I’ve seen your dad lose his temper really easily,” said Willow, cautiously. “You can tell us if he - ”
“What?” replied Shayla, feigning confusion at Willow’s implication. She looked down at her bruise for a moment before turning her attention back to her friends. Suddenly, a feeling of great resentment surged through her; how dare Willow question her perfect family. What did she know about the stressful labors of a highly regarded lawyer? “Well ... your mom’s strict too, Willow. And … and you … ” - she pointed a quaking finger at Razzel - “ … your parents are always reprimanding you for not listening!”
“My dad’s hard-core,” replied Razzel. “I get grounded whenever I step out of line and let me tell you, it’s a very thin line. Hang on,” she turned to Willow, pointing to Shayla’s bruise “ you think her dad did this?” Willow didn’t answer. Not with words.
“Whoa,” said Razzel, “I was swatted on my butt many-a-time when I was younger, but I was never beaten to the point of injury!”
Shayla didn’t speak. For a brief moment, she wanted to tell her friends everything. How her father beat her whenever he had a “rough day” at his office; how he hit her mother whenever she threatened to go to the police. She wanted her friends to help her … to save her. But what if the monster at home found out?
“You don’t understand!” Shayla blurted, teetering on the brink of tears. “He ... he loves me. He’s just trying to teach me to be good.”
“At what,” said Razzel, “boxing?”
“What do you know?” Shayla retorted defensively. “Your parents aren’t strict enough if you ask me. Would it kill you to dress like a lady for a change?”
“I’m not a lady – I’m 10!” Razzel snapped back.
“Calm down, Raz,” Willow interjected. “Shayla, we’re just trying to help you. Maybe I can talk to my mom. Maybe she can - ”
“No! You can’t tell anyone!”
“But we could help you if you just - ”
___________________________________
Page 73
“I don’t need your help, Willow!” Shayla began to shout. “Who do think you are? Some great hero?” Shayla felt as if her two friends were judging her and her family with every stare. Her resentment quickly evolved into pure anger. “My dad loves me and ... and you’re just jealous because … because your dad’s dead!”
SPLASH!
“RAZZEL!” Willow shouted.
“DON’T YOU EVER TALK TO HER LIKE THAT AGAIN!” roared a seething Razzel, holding an empty bottle of iced tea.
Shayla wore an appalled expression as she stood in her spot, iced tea dripping from her face. Willow handed her a towel. Shayla abruptly snatched it.
“Look at the two of you, preaching to me that my dad’s too violent when you can’t even control your own temper.”
“You’re right,” said Willow, turning toward Razzel. “That was uncalled for.”
“Was it?” replied Razzel. “There’s a difference between putting a brat in her place and beating your child to a bloody pulp for your own enjoyment.”
“You don’t know what it’s like in my house!” said Shayla, wiping more than iced tea from her eyes.
“Then tell us,” said Willow.
Shayla looked at Willow and Razzel for a silent moment. She then threw the towel onto the floor, grabbed her dirty dress off the washer and climbed back into it.
“I’m calling my mother! I want her to pick me up right now!”
“Come on, Shayla,” Willow pleaded, “we’re your friends.”
“If you’re my friends, then you’ll keep this to yourselves and never bring it up again.”
“How can you expect us to not bring it up?” asked Razzel. “There’s - ”
“Nothing left to talk about,” Shayla cut in.
“Shay, look, I’m sorry,” said Razzel, placing her right hand on Shayla’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that. Will’s right. We can help.”
Shayla shrugged her shoulder, forcing Razzel to release it.”
“I don’t need help from either of you ... EVER!”
Next Chapter
It was 5pm when the doorbell rang. A nine-year-old boy shouted, “I’ll get it!” He slid down the staircase banister and answered the door. Two elderly people peered down at him.
“Grandma, Grandpa!” the boy screeched enthusiastically, hugging his Grandma Trisha and his Grandpa Theo around their waists. Grandma Trisha looked down at him suspiciously.
“Well, hello, Wyatt,” she said hugging him back. “The way you’re carrying on, one might think it was your birthday.”
Wyatt grabbed Grandpa Theo around the wrist and pulled him across the threshold. Grandpa Theo almost tripped.
“Whoa,” he said. “What’s the rush?”
Wyatt glared at his grandfather with a huge smile.
“Did you bring it, Grandpa?”
Grandpa Theo rubbed his chin.
“Now, let’s see … was I supposed to bring something?”
Wyatt tugged hard on his grandfather’s shirt.
“Grandpaaaa?”
Grandpa Theo reached behind his back and pulled out an old weathered comic book.
“As promised,” he said.
“Wow! The first issue of Warrior Skull! I can’t believe it!”
“It’s not in the best condition, mind you. I’ve had it since I was your age, but I would imagine it would still fetch a pretty penny.”
“Oh, I’m never selling this, Grandpa.”
“Wyatt, who was at the door?” a voice called from the kitchen. “Oh, hi, Mom. Hey, Dad,” Mrs. Krimble greeted her parents, joining them in the living room. She was accompanied by a frail, withered man at her side. They seemed to be walking arm-and-arm, but upon closer examination, anyone could see that the man was leaning on Mrs. Krimble for support. He was gaunt and almost skeletal but he gave his guests a broad, welcoming smile.
“Hey, guys,” said Roger Krimble, taking a seat in the closest chair he could grab.
“How are you feeling, Roger dear?” asked Grandma Trisha, walking over, bending down to give him a kiss.
“Oh, not too bad,” Roger Krimble lied. He was always so fatigued these days. The leukemia he was diagnosed with two years prior, along with the numerous treatments he was undergoing, had taken its toll on his 43-year-old body. But every day was a gift to him and he was thrilled to see his little girl turning seven. He was always happiest when surrounded by family.
___________________________________
Page 70
“Where’s our little angel?” asked Grandpa Theo, gently grasping Mr. Krimble’s shoulder.
“She’s putting on her dress,” replied Mrs. Krimble. “She should be down any minute.”
The doorbell rang again. This time, however, Wyatt was too engrossed in his comic book to care.
“I got it,” said Grandpa Theo.” As he opened the door he saw a six-year-old girl with glasses gazing up at him. She looked extremely uncomfortable wearing a pink dress. She was accompanied by a beautiful black woman with long, kinky black hair, holding a yellow box with a green bow. She smiled at Grandpa Theo.
“Hi, I’m Diane Fiora,” she said, extending her hand.”
Grandpa Theo shook it, smiling.
“Ah, so this is the lovely lady who produced our feisty little Razzel, here.” Razzel smiled up at him, exposing her gums where two front teeth previously occupied. “Please, come in.”
After Razzel and her mother greeted everyone, Razzel sat down next to Wyatt. “Watcha readin’?”
“Only the coolest comic book super hero of all time!” replied Wyatt, holding up his new treasure. “Warrior Skull!”
“What? Warrior Skull’s cool, but everyone knows The Green Moonlight is the coolest super hero ever,” explained Razzel. “Warrior Skull wouldn’t stand a chance against Green Moonlight’s cosmic - ”
Wyatt abruptly stood up, changed his seat and continued reading his comic. Razzel folded her arms and huffed.
Just as Mrs. Krimble was about to reprimand her son for being rude, the birthday girl appeared, walking apprehensively down the stairs. Grandma Trisha was the first to notice her.
“Oh my, look at that sweet little angel.”
Willow was wearing a yellow dress with blue lace and a blue bow in her hair. Yellow and blue were Willow’s favorite colors. The moment her foot made contact with the landing, she ran straight to her mother.
“I don’t know, Mommy. I feel … funny.” She peered down at her exposed prosthetic limb.
Razzel stood up and pointed to her own dress.
“Look at me, Willow. My mommy made me wear a funny dress too. We both look silly together.”
Mrs. Krimble and Mrs. Fiora exchanged smiles.
Razzel grabbed Willow by the hand and pulled her toward the couch.
“Come and open your present … I made it myself.”
“Oh, not yet,” said Mrs. Krimble. “We’re waiting for one more guest to arrive.”
“Who else is coming?” asked Grandma Trisha.
___________________________________
Page 71
“Well, this woman brought her daughter into the emergency room last week,” Mrs. Krimble explained. “I treated her for bumps and bruises. Fell down her basement steps, poor thing. I got to talking with the mother and it turns out they live just a few blocks away on Chincel Street. The little girl’s Willow’s age, so I thought she and Razzel could add a third member to their little crew. She should be here soon, although the mother can’t stay. She’s a hot-shot lawyer with a demanding schedule. Same goes for her husband. She kept nervously glancing at her watch the entire time I tended to her daughter in the ER.”
“A new friend sounds like a great idea,” added Mrs. Fiora. “Razzel doesn’t play well with anyone other than Willow. I hope they all hit it off.”
No sooner did Razzel give her mother a sneering look when the doorbell rang for a third time.
“Got it,” said Grandpa Theo. He opened the door to find a beautiful little girl with long, glistening jet-black hair wearing a white gown, so elegant, she mirrored a flower girl in a wedding party. Alongside her was a large purple box almost as tall as she was. The little girl looked over her shoulder and waved to a car that was parked at the curb. The woman in the car didn’t even bother waving back; she simply sped off.
“Was that your mom?” asked Grandpa Theo.
The little girl gave a nod.
“Well, aren’t you a doll? Grandpa Theo leaned down to get a closer look at the new guest. “What’s your name, princess?”
The little girl looked up at Grandpa Theo apprehensively, looked back down at the floor and responded in a shy whisper… “Shayla.”
3 YEARS LATER....
“Oh, no! My mother’s gonna freak!” Shayla shouted, attempting to shake the fresh mud off of her red silk dress.
“Lighten up, Shay,” said Razzel. “It’ll come out in the wash. No big deal. I keep tellin’ you to wear jeans. Those fancy dresses just get in the way of climbing. This is a tree house, not a doll house.”
“Let’s go inside and see if we can wash it off,” suggested Willow.
The three girls entered Willow’s laundry room through the back garage door.
“Hey Will, can I grab an iced tea?” asked Razzel, opening the mini fridge.
“That’s what they’re there for,” replied Willow. “My mom’s in the kitchen, Shayla. Quick, take off your dress and we’ll run it through the express-cycle.”
Shayla looked at Willow as if she was speaking a foreign language.
“Laundry, Princess,” Razzel exclaimed. “We’ll wash it and no one will know you got it dirty. Your mom’s not picking you up for another hour. That should be just enough time to wash it and throw it into the dryer.”
“How do you guys know all this stuff?” asked Shayla, removing her dress and standing in her underwear.
“I help my mom with the laundry all the time,” replied Willow. “Don’t you?”
Shayla looked quite discomfited for a few silent moments.
“Sasha takes care of that kind of stuff,” she said finally.
___________________________________
Page 72
“Sasha?” said Razzel. “Is that your cleaning lady?”
“Housekeeper,” Shayla corrected.
“Well, excuse me, Your Majesty,” Razzel said with a curtsy. “Maybe tomorrow Sasha can serve us some tea and crumpets at your palace.”
The three friends laughed until Willow noticed a huge purple oval mark on Shayla’s outer left thigh.
“What’s that,” she asked, pointing to the injury.
Shayla’s expression changed quite suddenly.
“Oh … that’s … it’s nothing. I fell.”
“No offense, Shay, but you are quite the klutz,” said Razzel just before taking a huge gulp of Fisher’s Almond Iced Tea.
Willow surveyed Shayla suspiciously.
“You know, Shayla, we’ve been friends for three years now and every time you have a bruise or a scratch, it’s caused by some fall that I haven’t seen.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Shayla, defensively.
Razzel looked puzzled.
“It’s just that I’ve seen your dad lose his temper really easily,” said Willow, cautiously. “You can tell us if he - ”
“What?” replied Shayla, feigning confusion at Willow’s implication. She looked down at her bruise for a moment before turning her attention back to her friends. Suddenly, a feeling of great resentment surged through her; how dare Willow question her perfect family. What did she know about the stressful labors of a highly regarded lawyer? “Well ... your mom’s strict too, Willow. And … and you … ” - she pointed a quaking finger at Razzel - “ … your parents are always reprimanding you for not listening!”
“My dad’s hard-core,” replied Razzel. “I get grounded whenever I step out of line and let me tell you, it’s a very thin line. Hang on,” she turned to Willow, pointing to Shayla’s bruise “ you think her dad did this?” Willow didn’t answer. Not with words.
“Whoa,” said Razzel, “I was swatted on my butt many-a-time when I was younger, but I was never beaten to the point of injury!”
Shayla didn’t speak. For a brief moment, she wanted to tell her friends everything. How her father beat her whenever he had a “rough day” at his office; how he hit her mother whenever she threatened to go to the police. She wanted her friends to help her … to save her. But what if the monster at home found out?
“You don’t understand!” Shayla blurted, teetering on the brink of tears. “He ... he loves me. He’s just trying to teach me to be good.”
“At what,” said Razzel, “boxing?”
“What do you know?” Shayla retorted defensively. “Your parents aren’t strict enough if you ask me. Would it kill you to dress like a lady for a change?”
“I’m not a lady – I’m 10!” Razzel snapped back.
“Calm down, Raz,” Willow interjected. “Shayla, we’re just trying to help you. Maybe I can talk to my mom. Maybe she can - ”
“No! You can’t tell anyone!”
“But we could help you if you just - ”
___________________________________
Page 73
“I don’t need your help, Willow!” Shayla began to shout. “Who do think you are? Some great hero?” Shayla felt as if her two friends were judging her and her family with every stare. Her resentment quickly evolved into pure anger. “My dad loves me and ... and you’re just jealous because … because your dad’s dead!”
SPLASH!
“RAZZEL!” Willow shouted.
“DON’T YOU EVER TALK TO HER LIKE THAT AGAIN!” roared a seething Razzel, holding an empty bottle of iced tea.
Shayla wore an appalled expression as she stood in her spot, iced tea dripping from her face. Willow handed her a towel. Shayla abruptly snatched it.
“Look at the two of you, preaching to me that my dad’s too violent when you can’t even control your own temper.”
“You’re right,” said Willow, turning toward Razzel. “That was uncalled for.”
“Was it?” replied Razzel. “There’s a difference between putting a brat in her place and beating your child to a bloody pulp for your own enjoyment.”
“You don’t know what it’s like in my house!” said Shayla, wiping more than iced tea from her eyes.
“Then tell us,” said Willow.
Shayla looked at Willow and Razzel for a silent moment. She then threw the towel onto the floor, grabbed her dirty dress off the washer and climbed back into it.
“I’m calling my mother! I want her to pick me up right now!”
“Come on, Shayla,” Willow pleaded, “we’re your friends.”
“If you’re my friends, then you’ll keep this to yourselves and never bring it up again.”
“How can you expect us to not bring it up?” asked Razzel. “There’s - ”
“Nothing left to talk about,” Shayla cut in.
“Shay, look, I’m sorry,” said Razzel, placing her right hand on Shayla’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that. Will’s right. We can help.”
Shayla shrugged her shoulder, forcing Razzel to release it.”
“I don’t need help from either of you ... EVER!”
Next Chapter
