The Crumb Jar: Chapter 1

I've been working on a new children's story, and here I give you the first chapter of 'The Crumb Jar'.

The Crumb Jar

Chapter 1

Nine-year-old Liyana, with her hands tightly clutching a twelve inch high jar of cake rusk, entered her new bedroom. Setting it carefully upon one of the packed boxes, she looked out of her window at the park across the street, where her potential fellow classmates ran around.

She ran downstairs, and the orange scarf around her forehead slipped down and covered her eyes.

“Mama, can I go play outside?” Liyana said.

“Okay fine. Just let me just tighten your scarf. You don’t want it slipping off when you play,” her mother replied.

Fingers pulled at the ends of the scarf. Liyana winced as the material compressed her head. Securing the knot, her mother turned her around and smoothed her hand over the fabric, making sure it covered Liyana’s forehead.

Liyana ran out into the August heat. Slowly approaching the boisterous children, she hovered near the swing set, where two girls were skipping. She was standing there for a couple of minutes, until one of the girls turned towards her.

“Do you want to play with us?” she said. The girl had round glasses that matched her black headscarf.

“Sure.”

“My name is Inaya,” she said.

“I’m Adelaide,” the blonde-haired girl said.

“Liyana.”

The two girls began moving the skipping rope, and Liyana jumped in, jumping with the skill of someone who had had a lot of time to practice skipping on their own.

“Thirty-two, thirty-three…”

The sun was beating down faster now, and the park was like an oven. Liyana’s scarf stuck to her forehead like glue. The ground was closer and closer to her, and the skipping rope stopped. The sounds from the two girls on either side of her were far away, and then, everything went dark.

The two girls looked over Liyana worriedly. Adelaide ran across the street and into one of the houses while Inaya bent over the collapsed figure. Inaya’s fingers fiddled with the tight cloth around Liyana’s head. The constricting material now gone, Liyana blinked slowly and looked up at the face that hovered over her own.

“Here, I brought you water,” a voice said.

Adelaide’s freckly face appeared over her own, and in her hand was a plastic glass. Liyana shifted and began to sit up, and the now loose scarf slipped over her forehead and settled around her neck.

In that instant, the illusion she had created of this place was shattered. Water splashed at her feet and she looked up to see Adelaide’s hand still cupped around an invisible glass. The plastic glass bounced one, two, three times, until it settled, and the three girls were left in silence again.

Liyana jumped up, shook her brown curls into her face, and wobbled back to her house as fast as she could, ignoring the calls of her name behind her, dreading the teasing that would come next.

Her legs teetered into the kitchen and she sank down on the cold tiled floor. There she sat, until the dizziness finally stopped. Getting up, she extended a hand towards the fridge, but just as she was about to open the door, caught sight of her reflection in the shiny surface. As always, her eyes travelled to the raised, strawberry-red mark that sat in the middle of her forehead just above her eyes. She averted her gaze with haste, cringing at the ghosts of cruel laughter that had filled the sunny kitchen, and her knees felt weak again. Yanking open the fridge, she pulled out a peach.

The first bite of the fuzzy fruit was sour. With difficulty, she swallowed it, then dropped the rest of it on the counter and stole away to her room. Tiptoeing past her mother’s room, she reached her own and gently closed the door.

Opening the lid of the glass jar on her shelf, she pulled a piece of cake rusk out. The crispy sweetness stopped the spinning of her head. As she dusted the crumbs back into the jar, she looked out of her window and at the two girls in the park who had almost become her friends. They skipped unaffectedly as Liyana took another bite of cake rusk.

            The jar was half empty when Liyana’s mother opened the room door. Boxes were open with the contents now lying on the floor. In the middle of the room, the girl sat, with a piece of cake rusk in one hand, and the crumbs from the snack in the other.

            “How was the park? Did you make any friends?”

            “It was fun,” Liyana said, staring at the floor. “I skipped with some girls.”

            “Oh that’s nice.” Her mother paused. “Liyana, it’s almost dinner time. Don’t have any more cake rusk.”

            Liyana looked up, and just as her gaze went to her forehead when she looked at a mirror, her mother’s did too.

            “Liyana, why aren’t you wearing your scarf?” she said.

            “I was…um…feeling hot.”

            “Well I’ll open the windows then. Come, let me tie it for you.”

            “It’s okay. I’ll…um…do it myself.”

            “Let’s sort out your room then.”

            Liyana fiddled with the damp fabric that still circled her neck while her mother picked up the jar and set it on the shelf. Everything was put away – into the closet, tucked under the bed, and folded in the drawers. The only accessory was the jar on the shelf.

The next evening, Liyana did not ask her mother if she could go outside to play. She sat on her bed with a piece of cake rusk in her hand and the large jar directly below to catch the crumbs. Children in the park soaked in the summer sunshine, and there by the swings, two girls were skipping once again.

            Her mother came into the room, and said, “Don’t you want to go outside?”

            “I’m…um…tired today.”

            Swallowing her snack, she lay on her bed with her head buried in her pillow, staying like that until she heard the door click shut.

           

August ended, and Liyana could hide no more. School was starting the next day, and she would possibly have to face the girls who had looked so shocked when they saw her birthmark. Would they call her out in front of everyone, erasing her chance to not be mocked for a change? The best solution seemed to be invisibility – no one could make harsh comments if they did not realize that she was around.

            The last piece of cake rusk was in her hand. Settled at the bottom of the jar was a yellow-orange layer. She picked it up and swirled the crumbs around, her eyes fixed on the orange whirlpool in the jar. The more she stared, the calmer she felt, and when her mother came to say good night, she saw her daughter lying on the bed with the empty jar clutched to her chest.