Whatever Happened to Betsy Blake? by David B. Lyons

Whatever Happened to Betsy Blake? by David B. Lyons

Author:David B. Lyons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: David B. Lyons


Ten years ago

Betsy

Making curry is my favourite. Me and Dod both really like Chicken Madras. I cut up the chicken breasts so they are really small, like little Lego blocks, and then I cut some onions and green peppers. After I fry them in the pan for six minutes, I add the sauce. I love the smell of the sauce. I am so happy Dod lets me cook. I have learned so much from the Gordon Ramsay books. Me and Dod have curries every Tuesday and Thursday. On Monday, I cook a stir-fry and Dod cooks the other days. He doesn’t let me up the steps to eat every day, but I come up most days.

It depends on how he is feeling. He’s not always happy, but he is definitely never angry Dod anymore. He doesn’t hurt me. He doesn’t pick me up and throw me around. He hasn’t done that for years. I feel happy when I am around him. Not scared like I used to be. The only weird thing now is that he keeps kissing me on the lips, not on the cheek like he used to. It doesn’t taste nice.

‘How long?’ Dod asks. He is on the sofa watching the television.

I check the time on the top of the oven.

‘Two minutes,’ I say.

He says something else. I can’t really hear him that well. The curry is sizzling too loudly. I step down off my little step that Dod set up for me in the kitchen and then go see what he was saying. I walk into the television room.

‘I couldn’t hear you. What did you say, Dod?’

‘I said hurry up, I’m bleedin’ starving.’

I feel sad. Dod is not good Dod today. I walk a little closer to him.

‘Are you okay, Dod?’

He stares at me. He has that angry look in his eye. I hate it when he has that look.

‘Are you a fuckin doctor now?’

I shake my head. I don’t know what to say. He is still looking at me. Then I hear a loud beep sound.

‘Ye little shit,’ Dod says. He runs by me and into the kitchen.

‘Look, you fuckin idiot.’ He shows me the pan. The food has gone a little bit black. It’s not much. But Dod is angry. He presses a button that turns the beep off and then throws the pan against the wall.

‘Clean that shit up and start the dinner again.’

He walks out of the kitchen. I think if I was younger I would cry. But now that I am eleven and nearly a grownup I don’t cry. I just get down on my hands and knees and begin to clean up. I like to think about story ideas when I am doing things I don’t like.

I have a story idea about a girl who becomes a magician and goes to a magic school. It’s a bit like Harry Potter but I want it to be different. Except anytime I sit down to write I get confused. My writing is not good and it takes me ages to write even one sentence.



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