Deedee’s Revenge

Ten-year-old Deedee has had enough of her older brother Matthias and his best friend Peter, who never miss a chance to tease her. When they challenge her to a race on a forbidden military assault course, she accepts, determined to prove them wrong.

But the challenge takes a darker turn when the boys lock her up. Deedee vows to get even. With the help of her neighbor Uncle Ton and his faithful border collie, Teddie, she sets out on a daring mission to stop Matthias’s bullying once and for all.

Will Deedee succeed? And who are the mysterious Vrassos, Aikja, and Kreis? Friends—or foes?

 

 

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Chapter 1 – Matthias

 

Deedee shoved the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. She chewed and counted, chewed and counted. Eight, nine, ten. With an audible glug, she swallowed.
“Gross, Dee,” her brother said. “Seriously gross.”
She shrank back in her chair, wishing she could disappear, but there was no escaping Matthias’s stare. He flicked his eyes toward the kitchen door and silently barked, his hands flopped behind his head like dog ears.
“You spend way too much time with that dog next door,” he said. “One day you’ll turn into one.
Deedee swirled the milk in her glass. Matthias was such an idiot.
“Knock it off,” she said.
“What?” He looked at her with those innocent, almost glowing blue eyes. “You’re always hanging around that old geezer and his dog. I can always tell when you’ve been there. You smell like a dog.” He pinched his nose shut.
“Teddie doesn’t smell,” Deedee said.
“He does. And he’s vicious.”
“Teddie’s not vicious!” Anger bounced inside her head. Where did he get that nonsense?
“He is. Yesterday I walked past and he nearly bit me. They should—”
He stopped.
Deedee glared at him. She hated it when he lied. She took a breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Matthias was the vicious one.
“…get rid of him,” he finished.
Something snapped.
“Teddie’s not mean. You are. You hit him with a stick.”
“How would you know?” Matthias said. “You weren’t even there.”
“I don’t need to be. Teddie told me.”
Matthias burst out laughing.
“Sure he did. You talk to that mutt now? That’s another reason to get rid of him. Can’t have him driving you crazy, can we?”
“They should get rid of—”
“Don’t fight,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Please.”
Deedee swallowed the rest of her sentence and dropped back into her chair. She squeezed her eyes shut.
No point arguing. It only made things worse. And no point explaining that she could read Teddie’s face—when he was happy, when he was uneasy, what he wanted when he barked or growled. Matthias would never understand. He wasn’t like her. He wasn’t like Uncle Tom.
Matthias only listened to himself. He only cared about himself. All he knew how to do was act tough and cause trouble. And he never, ever left her alone.
Her fingers tightened around her glass.
Why couldn’t he leave Teddie alone?
“I don’t get why they haven’t taken that dog away,” Matthias went on. “That old geezer can’t look after him properly anymore. Dogs turn nasty if you don’t keep them under control. An animal like that should be indoors—or on a leash.”
“Teddie isn’t nasty. And Uncle Tom takes perfectly good care of him,” she hissed.
“No, he doesn’t. He can’t even keep the beast—sorry, the animal—at home. That dog roams around all day. It’s dangerous. They should lock him up in a pound.”
“They should lock you up!” Deedee shot back. “You can’t keep a border collie cooped up or tied to a leash. They need to run. If you lock Teddie up, he’ll die of grief.”
Her temples throbbed. Teddie couldn’t be locked away. He and Uncle Tom were her only friends.
“Die of grief’? How tragic.” Matthias pretended to wipe away tears. “Good riddance, if you ask me.”
Deedee jumped up, shoving her chair back. She stormed out and pounded up the stairs two at a time. Even through the thick carpet, each step made her angrier.
Stupid Matthias.
Stupid, lying Matthias.
The words hammered in her head.
She slammed into her room and threw the door shut. The bang rattled the windowpane.
“Dee!” her mom called. “Easy on the door, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered.

Inside her room, the anger slowly drained away. The red haze cleared. She exhaled.
Matthias was such a pain.
She dropped onto her bed. Why did she always let him get to her? He was like a leech, clamping onto her and draining away every last bit of patience. And when she finally snapped, she was always the one who got blamed.
She rolled onto her pillow and grabbed her old stuffed dog, Beautiful Dog. Years in the washing machine had cracked his glass eyes. His fur, once soft brown and white, had faded to gray and threadbare. She stroked his long, comforting ears.
“I wish Matthias was right, Beautiful Dog,” she whispered. “I wish I could turn into an animal.”
The stuffed dog stared back at her with cracked, understanding eyes. She brushed one ear against her cheek.
“Animals are nicer than people,” she said softly. “You can trust animals.”
She tucked Beautiful Dog into the hollow between her shoulder and neck, where he liked to rest, then set him back beside her pillow.
She got up and crossed to the window.
Climbing onto the radiator and then the windowsill, she unlatched it and pushed it wide open. She braced herself, gripping the frame, and leaned out. Warm summer air slid over her arms and legs and warmed her face.
She stretched a little farther and looked toward the neighbor’s house.
Was Uncle Tom home yet?
The kitchen door was closed, the windows too. She leaned back and checked her alarm clock.
Half past one. He’d still be at the hospital. He’d said he’d be back in the late afternoon.
She lowered herself onto the sill, one leg dangling outside. The garden lay still. Apart from the distant hiss of a sprinkler, the heat had pressed all sound out of the world.
Sparrows, puffed up like little pompoms, lined the shed roof in the shade of the cherry tree. Even the ripe cherries couldn’t tempt them to move.
Her gaze drifted to the butterfly bushes at the back of the garden. White and purple flower spikes crowded with butterflies—bright yellow brimstones, delicate whites, orange tortoiseshells—resting with wings spread wide, soaking up the sun. Only the restless holly blues fluttered from bloom to bloom.
Deedee closed her eyes.
A sharp flick hit her knee.
She jerked her leg up. A sticky dark-red smear marked her skin. She looked into the garden. Nothing moved.
She searched the sky. A bird dropping a cherry pit? A pigeon on the roof? She leaned out and checked the gutter above her window. Empty.
She settled back again, turning her face to the sun. Then a cold feeling slid down her spine. Someone was watching her. The garden was still. Too still. Near the shed, something caught her eye—two small white circles in the bushes, staring through the green like hidden eyes.
Of course.
She closed her eyes again. She wouldn’t react. Not this time.
A cherry pit hit her leg.
Then another.
“Cut it out, Matthias!” she called.
The stillness shattered. Sparrows burst into the air. Butterflies scattered.
“Victory or death!” Matthias yelled.
A storm of cherry pits rained toward her window.
When it stopped, he pushed out of the bushes and high-fived Peter, his hand smeared red with juice.
“Nice one, Peter,” he grinned.
“Get lost!” Deedee shouted.
She forced herself back inside and breathed. Calm. Easy. She was like a soda bottle—one shake and she’d explode.
Ignore them. If she ignored them, he’d stop.
“Shouldn’t you be out with the girls? Doing girly stuff?” Matthias mocked, miming skipping rope and tripping over himself. He slapped Peter on the back. “Normal girls wouldn’t hang out with a weirdo like her. Did you know she talks to animals now? Must be that old geezer next door teaching her nonsense.”
“So funny, Matthias,” she said, too late to stop herself.
Matthias bent toward Peter and whispered. Peter glanced up at her, uncertain, while Matthias kept talking behind his hand.
Deedee watched them. What now?
She pulled her knees up onto the sill, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin on her knees.
Ignore them. Completely ignore them.
She closed her eyes.
But the sun pressed down on her head, heating her thoughts until they felt too tight inside her skull.
Through half-closed eyes, she saw Peter nod. Matthias shoved him forward. Peter stepped under her window and looked up.
“You ask her,” Matthias said. “She won’t say yes to me. She’s too scared.”
Scared?
Her nails dug into her palms.
“Uh… Dee,” Peter said.
He wasn’t bad. Sometimes she almost thought they could be friends. But Matthias always dragged him back, like he owned him.
Peter looked awkward, almost sorry.
She knew his father was the strict commander at the barracks down the road.
“What?” she snapped.
“I… we’re going to the assault course. A race. Do you want to come?”
“Let her,” Matthias called. “She won’t win anyway. Girls are useless. Let her stay inside crocheting or whatever girls do.”
Deedee shot up. “Crocheting? I’ll outrun you any day!”
Matthias laughed, sharp and high. “Yeah, right. Wimp.”

In one blink, she was on the sill. She grabbed the thick branch of the old peach tree beside her window and pushed off. She swung down into the garden and landed like a cat on the grass.
“You’re the wimp,” she panted, standing right in front of him. “I’ll beat you anytime.”
She shoved aside his grin, ignoring the alarm bells ringing in her head. She would outrun them. At the first obstacle. She knew it.

First chapter of Deedee’s Revenge (De wraak van Deedee), ISBN 978-13-010-68685
© original text and translation Mina Witteman
All rights are with the author

Buy the Dutch e-version of Deedee’s Revenge here: De wraak van Deedee