Free The Good Daughter by Amra Pajalic Page B

the spittle off my mouth and picked up the squashed bread. I looked up as the girls ran into the next street.
    â€˜Girl,’ Dido called when I walked through the front door. ‘Come here.’ I heard the clacking of wood on wood. He was playing chess with his buddy Edin. When he played chess he acted like I was his waitress.
    I went into my bedroom and sat on the bed, cradling the bread in my arms. I heard my grandfather speaking and then footsteps. My bedroom door opened.
    â€˜Sabiha, didn’t you hear your grandfather?’ Mum asked. Her face crumpled in concern. ‘What happened, baby girl?’
    â€˜Some girls hit me,’ I gasped between sobs.
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜I don’t know them. I think they live in Cottle Street.’ Mum hugged me and I cried, the plastic bag with the bread rustling as we squashed it between us.
    There were tears in Mum’s eyes. ‘Where did they hit you?’
    My ribs were throbbing. I lifted my T-shirt, but there wasn’t a mark on my skin.
    Dido appeared in the doorway. ‘What happened?’
    â€˜She was beaten up.’
    â€˜Get her out there to smash their skulls,’ Dido urged.
    I sobbed, hiding my face behind my hands. Waves of embarrassment washed over me every time I remembered the way the girls hit me like I was a scarecrow. I didn’t put up one decent punch.
    â€˜Leave us, Babo.’ Mum closed the door in Dido’s face. When I finished crying she wiped my face with a tissue and gave me another one to blow my nose. ‘Let’s go.’
    I followed her into the hallway. ‘Where?’
    â€˜To the police.’ Mum put on her shoes.
    â€˜No, no. We can’t.’ I knew what happened to dobbers. The girls would just bash me even more.
    â€˜We’re not letting them get away with this.’
    At the police station Mum spoke to the officer at the counter while I played with my sleeve. ‘Are you sure you want to press charges?’ the policewoman asked. ‘If the girls live near you it means your daughter will be an easy target for retaliation.’
    â€˜But they beat her up,’ Mum exclaimed. ‘Practically in front of our house in broad daylight.’
    â€˜I understand that.’ The woman shuffled paperwork. ‘Sometimes reporting it makes these things worse.’
    â€˜Come on, Mum.’ I pulled her arm. ‘Let’s go.’
    â€˜But, but, this can’t happen,’ Mum insisted, putting her hands on the counter. ‘You’re supposed to help.’
    â€˜You can fill in the incident report form.’ The policewoman picked up her pen and waited.
    Mum let me pull her away from the counter and back into the car park.
    â€˜Why should the police waste their time?’ Dido said when Mum told him. ‘The girl needs to defend herself.’ He stared at the chessboard as he plotted his next move. Edin watched Dido, his chubby face creased in a smile.
    â€˜It’s okay if your grand-daughter gets beaten in front of her own house?’ Mum demanded. ‘Next time they can come into the house and beat her up.’
    Dido held a pawn, his hand hovering above the board as he decided where to place it. Edin tensed in anticipation, waiting for Dido’s move.
    Mum threw up her hands. ‘Why stop there?’ she yelled. ‘Maybe we can help them rob us by throwing our things onto the street?’
    â€˜Do you know them?’ Dido asked, finally looking up, a cigarette clenched between his teeth.
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜They live in Cottle Street.’ Mum pointed in the direction of the milkbar. I cursed my big mouth. ‘Bobbie from next door will know them.’ Mum headed for the front door. Bobbie was a little old Greek lady who had lived in the same house since she came to Australia fifty years ago. She knew everyone.
    Dido and Edin kept playing chess. ‘ Shah Mat ,’ Edin exclaimed joyfully as he declared checkmate.