Krystle, in other words, survived the constant stress by turning away from the world. By building high walls around her heart and hiding away in the safety of her complex mind, she hoped to become invisible, to camouflage her sensitive inner self, to survive by stealth.
And that strategy might have worked too, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Krystle Thomas was beautiful to the point of absurdity.
Nowadays, of course, we are often told that all people are beautiful in their own way. We understand that there isn’t only one standard of beauty, and that one person’s beautiful is another person’s ugly. But the idea of beauty as being relative also only goes so far.
Krystle Thomas, for example, possessed that rare kind of beauty that transcended almost all the usual barriers of culture and class. Everybody stopped. Everybody stared. There was nothing relative about her beauty whatsoever. Her looks were so extreme, in fact, that people found it magical, almost unnatural and just a little bit frightening, which meant that Krystle was constantly judged, envied, admired and disliked – mostly by people she did not know from Adam.
Krystle’s physical appearance made her somebody; there was not the slightest chance that she could ever be invisible. She stood out, so notable that she almost became a kind of public property. And, whether they knew her or not, almost everybody had an opinion about her, the most common being that she was:
•lucky (because who cares what goes on at your home when you look like that),
•boring (because why doesn’t she ever say anything, for Pete’s sake),
•snobbish (because nobody believes that someone so pretty could also be shy), and
•a bitch (because why doesn’t she ever smile; it’s the least she could do).
Now some girls can handle this kind of unwanted attention easily and naturally. They laugh off the bad and embrace the good.
But for Krystle, every stare, every comment, every whisper made her more anxious, more awkward and more withdrawn, until she almost had no friends left.
And that’s when the bullying began.
Slowly, Krystle’s life at high school came to be almost as unpleasant as her life at home. A group of girls (led by a particularly nasty piece of work called Stephanie Adolphus) ganged up on her, and once they realised how lonely and insecure she was under that perfect skin, they began to pick her apart, piece by piece.Their methods were cruel but predictable: they played on her insecurities; isolated her from her few remaining friends; called her “stinky” and “stupid”; peppered her with insults and terrified her with threats; detailed all her shortcomings and laughed at her bewildered tears.
And all the while Krystle did nothing.
In fact, she began to spend her school days with her head down, rushing from class to class, and spending her break times in the girls’ loos sitting on a closed toilet seat with her feet against the door, because she would not, could not fight back.
Fighting, after all, meant loud, angry voices in the middle of the night, plates flying through the air, doors slammed, screeching tyres, a mother’s red eyes and a father’s loud voice. Fighting meant rage, and tears, and anger, and a constant sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.
It was better to shut down. To pretend you didn’t feel anything.
Even if you did.
Even if you felt. Every. Single. Damn. Thing.
*
When Krystle was seventeen years old, she did her first fashion shoot for a magazine. She needed the money desperately, and she told herself that she could deal with the fallout that was sure to follow. But when she walked to school on the Monday morning after the magazine first appeared, she was filled with a terrible sense of dread.
She knew all too well what to expect. The unfunny jokes. The snide remarks. The cruel laughter. The barely disguised hate.
Only this time it turned out to be different.
Completely and utterly and amazingly different.
Because this time someone came to her rescue.
This time someone saved her.
When Krystle was a little girl, she had often lost herself in daydreams and fantasies, imagining that an angel would appear to rescue her from her life. Every time her father became violent or her mother dissolved into bitter drunken tears, she would run to her closet and hide, praying and praying that an angel would descend from heaven to protect her. Such and angel, she imagined, would have a halo around his head, and be tall, and golden, and beautiful. He would swoop down from above, with shiny golden wings and perhaps a flaming sword, and he would take her far away, and keep her safe, and protect her forever and ever.
As the years passed, however, Krystle stopped indulging in these kinds of daydreams. After adolescence she just couldn’t bring herself to believe in angels any more. By then she had learnt the hard way that there were no such things as miracles.
But the world can be a marvellously surprising place sometimes.
Because one Monday morning in May, Krystle Thomas’s angel finally appeared. Only, instead of a light-filled creature descending from heaven, this angel arrived on foot, in the persona of a bespectacled grade 9 girl with neat braids and a faint yellow stain on her school shirt. Krystle knew her only vaguely (Wasn’t she some kind of maths genius? Or chess champion? Something extremely brainy in any case) and she was amazed when the girl decided to come to her defence.
But she did. And she was MAGNIFICENT.
For the rest of the day the whole school simply buzzed about it. Krystle (who had always imagined that she was Stephanie’s only victim) was astonished at how much pleasure people took in telling and hearing the tale. But she was even more astonished by the fact that nobody made as much as a single nasty remark about her appearance in the magazine. It seemed to her as if an evil spell had been broken – as if that one act of kindness and bravery by a complete stranger had changed things forever.
For the first time, Krystle began to suspect that hiding herself away was not the only way to survive. She looked at that calm and dignified younger girl, and she saw that there were many ways to fight. For the first time she realised that it is possible to stand up for yourself without reverting to tears, or yelling, or sarcasm, or aggression.
And something inside her just clicked.
When Krystle got home that afternoon, she was in a fantastic mood. Sure, the house was a mess, but she didn’t let that upset her. (The dirty ashtrays and half-empty cans and bottles lying everywhere were nothing new: ever since her father had left they could only afford a cleaner on Fridays, and after the weekend things were usually in this state.) A stranger was passed out in the study, she saw – a youngish guy with a beard. Upstairs she could hear her mother snoring.
She gritted her teeth, deciding not to look in on her. She would look for her younger sister instead.
She found Alexis in the back garden, eating a packet of Niknaks for lunch. She leant over to take one, ruffling her sister’s hair affectionately.
Only to pull back in absolute horror as she realised something for the first time.
It was true. All those nasty things people said about her were true.
Because even here in the fresh air her sister’s clothes smelt vaguely of stale alcohol and cigarettes. Just like everything else in their house.
Just like Krystle herself.
For a moment she felt that old feeling of helpless depression settling around her like a familiar black cloak – as if her worst and most humiliating fear had suddenly been realised.
But then she remembered the determined expression on a small, narrow face. She remembered how fearlessly a young black girl with thick glasses had stood up to the biggest bully in the school. How calm she had been, and how incredibly powerful.
She felt herself smiling grimly. Enough of this.
Enough.
*
There are many ways to fight.
Krystle walked back into her house, an unfamiliar, determined expression on her face. In the kitchen she grabbed a wh
ole handful of extra-strong black bin bags. Then she looked around her, took a deep breath, and started cleaning up.
It was almost six o’clock that evening when Krystle took the final load of clothes out of the washing machine. A fresh breeze drifted through the house, and every surface gleamed in the last rays of the pale winter sun. The guy in the study had left long ago (one look at her face was enough to drive him away without a word), but upstairs her mother was still sleeping.
Oh well.
Krystle shrugged. The sad fact was that her mother would probably always be sleeping. There was nothing she could do about that. There are some things in life that you simply cannot take onto your own shoulders; this was not her fight.
She looked at her sister, scribbling away in her little diary, and she smiled. There are other things in life, however, that you can fight for.
And the world had better watch out, because Krystle’s fight was starting NOW.
Second Link
Sunday, 10 May
9.07am
Am SO TIRED of being K’s sister!! The same thing happened again last night – when I got to the party it turned out JD had only invited me because he was hoping I’d bring my sister along. Like K would ever go to a grade 9 boy’s party?! Honestly.
But anyway, what’s wrong with guys? Sure, K is beautiful, but she also has the personality of a goldfish! Why can’t anyone see that? And why can’t anyone ever like me for me?
5.03pm
Okay, have just read what I wrote this morning and now I feel mean. K isn’t a goldfish – she’s actually super nice and she can’t help the way she looks. But. BUT! The way guys act around her is just so DEPRESSING. It’s like watching evolution in reverse: they start out intelligent human beings and within minutes – minutes! – they change into a bunch of slobbering, knuckle-scraping, half-brained apes! It’s pathetic, honestly.
Also, why don’t they ever act that way about me???
8.12pm
Mom’s not back yet – must’ve been some party all right. Just hope they don’t have the after-party at our house tomorrow morning like usual.
Not looking forward to tomorrow in any case – there’s bound to be drama about K’s Fairlady thing. Also, algebra test in the morning, and then First Aid after school for a whole hour! Stupid extra-curriculars.
Monday, 11 May
1.05pm
The MOST AWESOME thing EVER happened today!! Lisakhanya, this girl in my hockey team, totally DESTROYED Stephanie Adolphus for picking on K. (I wasn’t there, but Joan told me that it was like a scene from a movie – she was just so slick and professional . . . like a spy or an assassin or something.)
After that nobody dared to say anything mean to me about K’s Fairlady thing – so total bonus! (Jessica Odendaal even congratulated me on my sister’s “success”, which, I mean, are you kidding me???)
In fourth-period history, Mr Jackson told us about some classic blunders in history – for example, invading Russia in winter. Joan added: “Or getting into a fight with Lisakhanya!” Everybody clapped, DELIGHTED that somebody has finally stood up to horrible Stephanie.
4.20pm
Just had our first meeting for First Aid extra-curric. Some guys from the boys’ school joined us, so it was far more interesting than I’d thought it would be. Everybody was really nervous to start off with, especially after Mrs Madikhize said we’d begin with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation! She was only joking though.
Had to pair up with this grade 10 guy, Ben Gordon. He was funny and kind of cool. Also, gorgeous. (Also, also: he was really really nice to me, and I don’t think he even knows I’m K’s sister!)
6.09pm
K has finally gone nuts. As in full-out, back-to-the-wall, cracked-out McCRAZY. She spent the whole afternoon cleaning the house, and as I’m writing this she’s scrubbing the stove with Mom’s electric toothbrush.
If she makes dinner I’ll know that aliens have invaded her body, and I’ll flee. But until then I’m kind of enjoying the sense of freshness and order, I must say.
Tuesday, 12 May
7.30am
Aaaand the madness continues! K made breakfast this morning, and she made a sandwich for me to take to school. (Heaven alone knows where she found a lunchbox??) I would have protested, because I don’t actually even like peanut butter, but she looked so happy – for once in her LIFE – that I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
The last time I had a packed lunch I was about nine years old, so this is very weird.
But also kind of touching, actually, I’m not gonna lie.
3.47pm
Mom’s finally awake, but she’s spending the day in bed to recover from the weekend. Went in quickly to say hi, but she didn’t even look at me – just kept on smoking and reading Heat magazine.
8.15pm
Saw Ben from First Aid on my way back from school. He smiled and waved at me from across the street, even though he was surrounded by a whole group of his friends.
Guess that means he’s found out I’m K’s sister.
Oh well.
Wednesday, 13 May
3.41pm
Mom finally got up out of bed after the weekend’s party. She seemed a bit better at first – washed her hair and put on fresh clothes and everything. But a while ago I heard her phone her dealer, so I don’t suppose this will last.
5.08pm
Holy naked BATMAN!
K just threw Mom’s dealer out of the house! AND she threatened to call the police! AND Dad! (Am starting to think that my whole alien-invasion theory about her might not be far off the mark.)
She and Mom had a screaming match that lasted for about an hour. Mom said all the usual stuff about how we’re spoilt and ungrateful little brats that she should have drowned at birth, but this time K fought back! She accused Mom of all kinds of things – including naming us after characters from a 1980s soap opera. It was super scary, but also kind of awesome. I never knew K had it in her.
8.10pm
It’s true. I googled it. Krystle and Alexis were two characters in an American soapie called Dynasty that aired in the 80s.
Classy, Mom. Real classy.
Thursday, 14 May
5.00am
Can’t sleep. What kind of mother names her child after a character with “non-existent morals and a hunger for money and revenge” (according to Wikipedia)? Can it be that Mom never loved me? Even when I was a baby?
7.15am
Mom didn’t sleep at home last night and K’s eyes are red from crying. Drama, drama.
I spent about an hour on my hair this morning and it’s still not right. First Aid again this afternoon!
4.30pm
Ben is really nice. (By which I mean he’s heart-stoppingly, jaw-droppingly AMAZE.) We had to practice positioning our hands for the Heimlich manoeuvre this afternoon, and when he put his arms around my waist I couldn’t stop blushing. It was super embarrassing, but also kind of exciting. Afterwards he talked a lot, very fast, and we both kept on laughing at stuff. What is happening to me??
8.55pm
Alone at home. Mom still not back, and K’s out, doing another modelling job. (Why?? For crying in a bucket! She’s been so happy lately, but she still clearly has NO self-insight WHATSOEVER. I mean, honestly, that girl needs more attention like she needs a hole in the head!)
Made myself some toast with Marmite and butter for dinner. Afterwards I washed up, because after her alien-invasion K is keeping the house so neat I felt guilty for stacking my plates in the sink.
Friday, 15May
7.35am
Mom still not back. K made breakfast again – eggs and mushrooms. When Albertina came in this morning she gave one look at the place, crossed herself, and then started talking very quickly in Afrikaans. She kept on staring at K with her mouth open, especially after K made her a cup of coffee.
I know, Albertina. I KNOW.
3.31pm
Can’t stop thinking about Ben. Tried to find him on Facebook, but n
o luck. He gave a landline as his contact number in the First Aid handout, so can’t text him either.
3.45pm
On second thoughts, that’s probably a good thing.
9.31pm
While other people are out having lives, K and I are spending the whole of Friday night watching TV and self-medicating with Smarties. We’re both kind of sad, although neither of us is saying anything. We’re not too freaked out, of course – Mom has done this kind of thing before. But still, it’s difficult not to get a little worried.
I just hope she’s safe, wherever she is.
10.27pm
K’s actually kind of cool, although you would never say so to look at her. She started asking me about boys, trying to get my mind off Mom, I think, and although I didn’t want to say anything (I totally did!), I told her about Ben. Was worried she was going to go all “stay-away-from-boys-they’re-all-dirty-pigs” like Mom always does, but she just smiled and said it must be nice to meet someone you actually liked. She said I should give him a chance, that all men couldn’t be like Dad. She said Ben sounded like a really great guy.
Starting to suspect K is secretly a hopeless romantic, but I still got into bed grinning like Garfield on lasagne day.
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME???
Saturday, 16 May
2.15pm
We won our first hockey game!!! Lisakhanya scored two goals, and everyone clapped and cheered like mad. She’s like a total hero now, but she acts like she doesn’t even notice.
Saw Ben on my way home, and my heart almost burst out of my chest. Sure he must have seen me blushing from across the street. Anyway, he came over to talk to me, and it was . . . Wow. Just wow. He’s just so cool and so natural, it’s like talking to a friend, only SUPER EXCITING.
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