Goldi and the Grizzlies ON HOLD

Goldi and the Grizzlies

Chapter One

She was bored. All her life nothing had excited Goldi and she was sick and tired of the same old life. She was a bad ass chick, misbehaving loads to try and spice up her life. It always ended up in the head’s office, police station or once in prison. Basically she hated life; her life.

Goldi Gwangth was 17, owned a motor bike and leathers, stayed out as late as she could each night, partying and getting drunk with all her mates. She was moved constantly from school to school, after the teachers at each place, refused handle her anymore. Finally her parents caved in and pulled her out of school completely, at the tender age of 15 with no GCSEs and zero career prospects. Despite not having a job, she used her parents’ cash like water and had the time of her life out with mates. The only catch? She still ‘lived’ with them and to her home life was NO life. Her parents fought have some control over her life, so they dragged her to Sunday school at church; after an agonizing hour mouthing high pitched hymns. As well as that torturous experience, they gave her month long, more like year long, detentions.She always managed to sneak out though, one way or another.

Her parents were Mac Gwen and Alixa Gagth; her surname Gwangth, was a mixture of the two surnames put together. It was an odd compromise, as neither parent wanted to give up their second name. Goldi hated it, but in some ways it was better to have a separate name to her parents, it meant she could pretend not to be related to them if the need arose. Still, she was going to change it as soon as she could without parent consent, so another year to wait. She longed to move out of her parent’s home, but no educational results, means no job, equalling NO money. Nevertheless, Goldi still partied away any money that did pass her hands, dependant on her parents.

It was Saturday afternoon, past midday, after a hectic, loud Friday night, involving vast amounts of beer, wine and piss. In the aftermath, Goldi now felt the bad effects of the night before, with a massive headache accompanied by one of the worst hangovers she’d ever had. She was surprised that she’d actually got home and into bed; most nights she hung around at her friend’s place, piassed out on the floor. Then she remembered someone had hailed a taxi for her and giving her some slippers to wear, who was it again? Now she remembered, it had been some charity lady helping out clubbers like her. She sighed deeply. At least she had no difficulties this morning, like getting home, finding her top and handbag, and being sick discreetly, so her mates wouldn’t she was soft.

She felt awful just moving her head to look at the clock on her bedside table. It was quarter to one in the afternoon, “I slept half the day away? I better get up and get dressed”, she thought to herself. She struggled into her rumpled jeans and a white, fitted t-shirt with ‘BITE ME’ printed in black, block capitals across it. Her hair was an untidy mussed up affair, the normally straightened golden locks in a halo round her head. She fingered the golden strands, curling them into ringlets, her mum had told Goldi that she had named her after them. She rememberd in primary at school, she had been the envy of all the girls with her golden hair. They had tried and failed to taunt her by calling her Goldilocks, but any comments like that soon evaporated when she hit Big Ben the Bully square in the nose and broke it. She was tough even then.

She pulled her hair into a pony tail and clipped up her side fringe with a massive black hair clip. "It will do for now, it isn't like any of my mates are going to see me," she thought as she squeezed her feet into her comfortable, old trainers. She wore around the house, her feet were aching still after wearing high heels the night before, so it was her best option. “Mum, Dad!” she screamed loudly, it was not the best idea to shout when her headache was numbing her entire brain, it really hurt her head. She thumped down the solid, oak stairs covered with thick, red, stained carpet. “Oi, Wake up assholes!” she shouted again, reaching the bottom step and then sauntered across the hall to the kitchen. Footsteps rang around the house as she quickly walked over to the breakfast bar in her trainers that were keeping her feet nice and toasty. “Hello?” she said a little quieter, in a slightly hoarse voice. The room was silent and on the table top was a glass of milk, a bruised apple and a raisin cereal bar, which looked more than a bit squashed perhaps sat on? She grabbed the glass of milk and gulped it down, followed by the mutilated cereal bar. As she leaned on the breakfast bar surface, she brushed against a piece of paper and it fell to the black and white chequered floor. After chewing methodically on the bar, an unappetising slightly nutty flavour in her mouth, she paused and reached down to snatch the thin paper from the ground.