My Easter Bunny From Hell

My name’s Abidemi, Abi for short, and I am twelve years old. I have a round flat nose, afro-ish hair, and brown eyes, though they go a nice hazelly colour in the sun.

The first thing I want you to know about me is that I’m poor. Well, not homeless or begging poor, but significantly worse off than some of my classmates. For example, Hazel (like my eyes in the sun), got a new iPad for her birthday a week or two ago. I’d begged my parents for one, even a mini, but they just shook their heads each time with that smile; you know, that smile that ends the conversation when you’ve barely had a chance to speak. Followed by an easy one-liner like, “you have toys, Abidemi, what more could you want?” or “you know that’s too much for us, Abi”.

I never believed a word. If we were strapped for cash, why was Mum getting her nails done every week?

That morning was a rather dull one. I was wearing Mum’s laddered tights and black skirt, as she’d insisted we not spend any more money on uniforms. Breakfast wasn’t any better, although I did get to put some cheese on my baked beans and toast.

My school was called Drabfield Primary. Yes, Drabfield, and it certainly did live up to its name. The whole building looked like one of those old movies where everything was in black and white… and glitchy for some reason. The walls forever smelled of drying paint and had a thick layer of grey colouring on them. The days seemed to speed up then slow down, too, as if someone was messing with a remote control connected to my school.

Dad had wanted me to go to a fancy school like he had, one all the way in town centre, but Mum being Mum had objected with her usual excuse, “we don’t have the money”. I didn’t mind my school so much, I was popular enough, mainly because of my luscious locks, and there was free milk and tomatoes on Friday break times. I was allowed one tomato and one carton of milk, Mum made me bring the rest home to store in the fridge. My bestest friend was Olivia, or Olive as I liked to call her. She used to bully me, funnily enough, but after I became somewhat of a main character in year six at Drabfield, she’d taken a sudden interest in me, and from then on, we’d been inseparable. I guess I owe her, I don’t get teased nearly as much as I used to back in year five. Some of my other friends are Hazel and Zosar. Zosar is a boy, and I don’t like him. I begrudgingly call him my friend because Olive and Hazel are pally with him. It’s stupid really. The only reason they took a shine to him is because he was born in Egypt and when we were studying Ancient Egypt, he seemed to know everything. Olive makes me angry when she hangs around him too much, he picks his nose.

It was coming up to easter, and before I left for school, which was a few minutes’ walk away, I turned to Dad, who was watching something on our old Matsui tv.
“What’s that, Dad?” I asked, leaning over his right shoulder.
“Something about cheapskates,” he sighed, “trying to see if we could apply, knock a bit of sense into your mum.”

I rotated my head to see Mum in the kitchen, trying her best to carefully peel off the tinfoil from the plate I had just eaten from without ripping it. I’ll lend you this trick if you’re lazy—put tinfoil or wrap something around your plate before you eat from it, that way you can just peel it off and be left with a clean dish. We only eat off plates on Sundays for a roast of leftover chicken and boiled carrots.
“I see your point,” I replied, “none of my friends eat from tinfoil plates.”
“Well, one day, we’ll have enough money to eat off normal plates, gold even.”
“You promise?” I asked.
“Promise.” He smiled, a weary sort of smile, “Now off to school with you or you’ll be late.”
“Bye Dad, bye Mum!” I called, waving as I picked up Mum’s old handbag from the floor.
“Bye Abidemi,” they replied.

Usually, I met up with Olive on the walk to school at the field near my house, but she wasn’t there today. I waited an extra five minutes, but still no sign of her. Not wanting to be late, I grudgingly walked the rest of the journey to school.  Mrs. Delaney was just closing the gate as I arrived.

“You’re late, Abidemi,” she snarled, exposing her crooked, yellow teeth. She also had claw-like nails, funnily enough. Just like a villain from a fairy tale, or a witch. A witch, I think.
“Sorry, Mrs. Delaney,” I muttered, although I wasn’t really sorry.
“Get into class, now,” she almost hissed as she ushered me to the great double doors that led to Drabfield Primary.
The first lesson of the day was maths, much to Zosar’s amusement. He was a whiz when it came to mathematics, especially algebra. “Zosabra” was a nickname Hazel had given him, though I didn’t find it the slightest bit funny, a bit rude in fact.
Hazel and Zosar met me in the cloak room as we hung up our bags and took our maths books from them.
“Hey, Ab!” Hazel said, smiling her usual toothy smile.
“Hey, Hazel,” I replied, “have you seen Olive today?”
“Nope,” Zosar pitched in, something he tended to do, “wonder where she’s at, she’s usually one of the first, right?”
“Yes, Zosar,” I said in the same way my mum would reply to ‘do I still only get two showers on Sunday?’.
“Class, now!”
Guess whose scratchy voice yelled that. Yep, you’re right: it was Mrs Delaney.  I don’t know why I can’t be lucky once in a while. My horrible head teacher was my maths, science, and computing teacher. And people complain about one teacher for one subject.
I looked at Hazel and rolled my eyes, which made her giggle. Zosar pushed into the middle of us.

In maths, I sat with Zosar, which you’d think would be great because he’s smart, right? Wrong. Every time I even glanced his way, he stared at me with his deep, weird, greenish-brown eyes until I looked away. We didn’t get along if you hadn’t picked that up already. He was just annoying.

Today, we were doing algebra, ha ha. I swear I saw Zosar’s eyes light up.  I, of course, zoned out during the briefing until Olive walked through the door. Her cheek was a tinged reddish colour.
“And why are you late, miss Reed?” Mrs Delaney enquired.
Olive, not meeting her eyes mumbled something, which was followed by a nod from Mrs. Delaney. Olivia went to put her bag away and put her lunch box on the rack. I raised my hand.
“Yes, Abidemi?”
“May I use the bathroom?” I pursed my lips and widened my eyes to make it look like I was bursting.
Mrs Delaney flicked her hand, which I took as a “yes”.
I heard sniffling coming from one of the stalls and knocked on the door. I guessed it was Olive, who must’ve come from the cloakroom to the toilets.
“Olive?”
“W-who is it?” a croaky voice replied.
“Who else?” I replied with a chuckle.
Slowly, the stall door opened to reveal Olive sitting on the lid of the toilet, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Her eyes were red.
“What happened?” I almost laughed in her face.
“I got grounded…” she started, “and it’s not just my phone, it’s my iPad and laptop!!”
“Oh…”
“Do you get grounded sometimes? “Well, duh!” I was laughing now, “gets in trouble sometimes.”
Olive laughed a half-hearted sort of laugh, “it’s still mean though.”
“Like hell,” I agreed, sighing. “Well, we’d better get back to class before Delaney goes mental.”
“I’ll go out first, so it looks normal.” Olive nodded.
Class seemed to go ten times slower after that. I occasionally checked on Olivia, who seemed to be doing better, sat next to Hazel. I will admit that made me a tad bit jealous.
Break couldn’t come quick enough, and I was grateful for my half-price salt and vinegar crisps, even though I hated salt and vinegar. I was still rather envious of the chocolate bunnies Zosar and Olive had. However, they weren’t even hollow!
“What shall we do?” Zosar asked, looking longingly at the boys playing football toward the back of the playground.
“Let’s make easter plans!” Hazel exclaimed, “let’s go to mine since we went to Olivia’s last easter.”
“Are we still buying matching bunny teddies?” I asked, praying the answer was no.
“Of course!” Olive said, beaming, “and this time you definitely have to buy yours. No more forgetting.”
Of course I hadn’t forgotten, it was the only thing I’d talked about at home, but Mum just hadn’t seen the point of having one.
“So I can be like everyone else, Mum!” I had pleaded but the answer had been a short tut or sigh, or both somehow.
“I’ll try my best,” I promised.
“Can we do easter egg hunt rugby?” Zosar piped.
“You what?” I gave him a funny look.
“You heard me,” Zosar returned the look, “we always do prissy girly easter egg hunts.”
“Well, that’s because we’re mostly girls, Zosabra,” Olive reminded, “and it’s not prissy, rugby’s just too rough.”
“Hmph,” Zosar grumped.
“As long as we have our bunny teddies, it’s fine,” Hazel said.
“I guess so,” Olive agreed, looking at me, “and make sure to not—”
“Forget, I know,” I sighed.
She smiled at me, “let’s play tag.”

After break, the day seemed to go relatively fast. As if the person with the remote to Drabfield had finally found the forward button. We had English, then a boring lunch of dry pizza and potato wedges. I saved some of my wedges for Mum.
We had science after lunch, with Mrs Delaney. I sat next to Max, which wasn’t that bad, as we were both terrible at chemistry. He was probably more of a friend to me than Zosar.

The end of day was finally here, and I was relieved. I hated school.
Olive joined me on my walk home. “You excited for easter then?” Olivia asked after some silence.
I shrugged, “Sure.”
“Do you believe in it?”
“In what?”
“Easter, God, and Jesus and stuff,” she responded.
I thought for a while, “I guess so. I mean, my parents believe in it, so I do too.”
“I don’t,” she stated, “it’s like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus; magic.”
I considered this for a while before replying, “Well, I guess we all have different beliefs, and we’ll know when we die.”
We walked in quietude the rest of the way, a comfortable sort of a silence.
My house was a block before hers, so she waved me goodbye as I knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” Mum called.
I said hello to Mum and DadDad before rushing up to my room, I had a plan to devise.
The plan was simple, it just came down to the execution of it.
The steps were straightforward enough.
Take all tinfoil off plates for Mum
Heat up leftovers for dinner
Compliment her
Ask for easter bunny at dinner
I practiced the lines over and over in my head until I was starting to get sick of my own voice.
I got this, I thought and walked downstairs.
“Hey, Mum! I got the plates today; you can just lie down.”
“Abi, what is it? Are you well?” Mum replied.
“I’m fine, Mum,” I reassured, “I just want to help, you go get some rest.”
Mum looked at me, deciding whether this was some sort of trick but eventually went to sit with Dad on the couch. He glanced at me, eyebrows raised, but said nothing.
After peeling the rest of the tinfoil off last week’s plates, I asked, “Want me to heat up dinner?”
“Abi—”
“I’m not up to anything, Mum!” I claimed indignantly, forcing myself to look her straight in the eyes, “I just thought that you work so much, and it must be so hard for you…”
“kini isoro e?” Mum asked Dad.
“Nothing’s wrong with her,” Dad replied, sending a quick wink my way, “I think she’s finally realised how hard we work for her.”
After heating up some leftover fried rice and the chicken, I carefully put thin strips of tinfoil on Mum and Dad’s plates and served them as they flicked through channels on the telly.
“Mum, you look so nice today!” I complimented as I handed her the food.
“Abi, you’re scaring me,” she replied, “what is it?”
“Well, now that you ask…” I started, “can I please, please, please get an easter bunny teddy this easter?”
I pouted and batted my non-existent eyelashes.
“I knew it!” she cried, “You just wanted me to spend money on a teddy you won’t even use!”
“But Mum—” I searched my brain for Mum approved reasons, “you can take the stuffing out and fill it with stuff so we have more room and don’t have to spend money on more storage!”
“Eh?” she retorted.
“And I bet you could put soil in it and use it as a plant pot instead of using expensive ones!”
“Let her have it, dear,” Dad pleaded, “it’s been so long since she got anything she really wanted.”
“See?” I nodded at Dad.
Mum studied us both for several seconds before rolling over and saying, “Fine, one small easter bunny.”
I hugged her after that and was so happy I raced up to my bed and slept, even though it was only 6pm. Luckily, however, tomorrow was Saturday, which meant I could go down to the shops with Dad on his Saturday morning walks. Even though my body was fast asleep, my mind buzzed with excitement; I was going to be normal!
I was up bright and early the next morning, even early enough to wake Dad. I was already dressed and waiting in an oversized hoodie and leggings when he came down. Dad was in jeans and an old top he’d begged to have washed but the recurring refusal of Mum said otherwise.
“Had something to eat, Abi?” he asked, tying his laces the way he’d taught me.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll eat after, let’s just go!”
“Alright, alright, miss eager!” Dad laughed, and we walked out the door.
After a while, Dad said, “Your Mum said we should shop at “Maison” for the bunny. They’re on an easter sale now, apparently…”
“No!” I cried, horrified by the thought of buying anything from that creepy shop, “Not Maison!”
“I’m afraid so, though I don’t like it much either. She said if you wanted that bunny, it had to be there.”
I sighed. Maison was the creepiest shop in town. The front looked normal enough, with pastel-coloured title and white painted walls, but the inside looked like something picked straight out of Coraline. The name “Maison” meant home in French, according to Dad, which was anything but fitting, as I felt the farthest from home when I’d gone. Luckily, Mum only dragged me to that monstrosity of a shop to choose cheap but fancy-looking china.
We soon reached Maison, much to my dismay.
“Come on, Abi,” Dad urged, “we’ll be in and out.”
The owner of the shop was Jax. He had a slim, feminine physique with slender shoulders and skinny legs.
“Bonjour, bonjour,” he greeted, twizzling his clearly fake moustache, “what can I do for you today at Maison, my lovely customers?”
“We’re looking for teddy bunnies, got any?”
My mind might have been playing tricks on me, but I was seventy-five percent sure I saw Jax smirk, “right this way…”
Jax led us to the back of the shop, which was sealed off by two velvet, dusty curtains. I glanced at Dad, who looked as uneasy as I felt.
“You’re very lucky, it’s the last one of its kind,” Jax said, grinning, “would you like him wrapped?”
“If it means spending extra money, then no,” Dad replied shortly, “we’ll just pay for the bunny and go.”
Jax carefully took out the plush and went with Dad to the till to pay. I followed, my eyes on the bunny all the while. It had red eyes in contrast to its snow-white fur, two long fluffy ears, one of them bent, and a huge toothy grin with two sharp teeth sticking out. It was hideous.
“That’ll be twenty seventy-nine then,” Jax said.
“You what? Go on then…”
Dad handed me the bunny as we walked home.
“Quite the sight, eh?” He stared at it. “What’ll you name him?”
I thought for a few moments before laughing, “Hiddy, because he’s Hideous!”
When we got home, Mum was sleeping, so while Dad made breakfast, I took Hiddy and Dad’s iPad upstairs.
“You can sit on the floor,” I told him. “Look at me talking to a dumb plushy.”
I wasn’t really allowed to have apps like snapchat or Instagram on the iPad so I spent the majority of my time playing crossy road, subway surfers, and temple run. My three favourite games.
I was feeling in a crossy-road type of mood this morning, so I clicked on the app and started. Ten minutes in, Hiddy fell over with a huge thud.
“God!” I exclaimed, picking him up and setting him right.
I continued on with my game.
Thud.
Hiddy had fallen again, this time closer to my bed. I again stood him up.
Thud, put up, thud, put up. This continued until he was inches from my bed. My feet dangled off it.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.

Dad’s slippers made the weirdest sounds sometimes as he called me down for breakfast.
Before leaving the room, I looked back at Hiddy, he was now laying on his back. I must’ve moved him.
Breakfast was a pleasant one of porridge and juice. Dad always made an effort on Saturdays.
“How’s Hiddy?” he asked, peeling the tinfoil from his plate.
“He’s good, as hideous as ever,” I replied, sighing, “was there even any point of buying a stupid teddy if it looks that ugly?”
“Maisons is a weird place…” Dad sympathized.

After breakfast, there was nothing really to do, and I didn’t feel like starting the heap of algebra and science homework I had, so I decided to try to do makeup. Mum hated it, but she was asleep so what could she do? I’d also seen a few videos online on how to make it not look so cakey, so I wanted to try the methods.
Hiddy was on my bed hunched over the iPad as if he were playing on it. My eyes widened in fear as I looked down at Dad’s iPad. The game was Subway Surfers.

I looked back up at Hiddy, he had moved. He was now facing me, his head cocked. Red stained his once pristine fur.
And then, a small, scratchy voice, like cutlery sliding across a shiny plate called out, “look at Mummy…”
“Dad?!” I reached out for the door handle, but it slammed shut. My bulb flickered, which should’ve been normal as it was from eBay, but it they went out. My throat closed up; my eyes burned as I tried to see through the darkness.
Scuttle.
Sink.
I felt something sharp making its way forcefully into my arm, the more I shook, the further it went.
“DAD!” I screamed, “DAD, PLEASE!”
There was no thudding from Dad’s slippers this time, and I closed my eyes for the final time, I knew where my veins were.
CRASH.
“Abi?!”
A beam of light shone through my room as protective arms scooped me up.
“Why in heavens name are you crying, why in heavens name is the door closed, and why in heavens name are the lights off?” Dad questioned, cradling me like a new-born.
I didn’t reply, but between the time Dad picked me up and barraged me with questions, I took a glance from his chest toward my bed. Hiddy was gone.
I spent that night in Mum and Dad’s bed. Every time I decided to let myself sleep, Hiddy appeared in my mind, then the darkness, then the cold sharp thing sinking deeper and deeper…
Dad looked tired in the morning.
“Morning, Dad,” I yawned.
“Morning Abidemi,” Dad replied sleepily. His eyes started to droop, and seizing the opportunity, I tiptoed toward the sofa.
Our telly was boring, it had about three channels and would always freeze randomly at the good bits, which were exceedingly rare.

However, I stumbled across the cheapskate show Dad had been watching and decided to watch it. I had to admit it was somewhat entertaining to compare Mum’s crazy antics to the misers on our Matsui.
Mum came down later, only to bid adieu and leave for the market. The market was Mum’s favourite place to go. A place where you could haggle without getting stares, shout without getting glares, and ask for a cheaper price without getting sneered at. I’m so poetic, I know.

So now, to recap, Dad was upstairs sleeping, he’d teleported there somehow whilst I was watching tv, and Mum was out at market. By now, the show had finished, and I was thinking about what Olive was doing at school without me when I heard the sound of the tap. It gave me a bit of a fright, but then I remembered how many times Dad had put on his plumber hat and attempted to fix it; it would always break afterward. The tap kept doing this for a while, on and off, on and off, until, seeing I was quite frankly not bothered, stopped. I flicked the tv back on. It was some boring kids show.
“Ugh…” I groaned.
Just then, a shiver travelled down my spine. It felt weird, as if I were freezing when I was relatively warm.
Scrape….
Scrape…
Scrape…
Pesky racoons, I thought, always trying to eat the tinfoil we throw out.
The lights flickered.
“Dad!” I called, “the lights have blown again.”
No response.
Then a sound, the sound of a thousand knives sliding across a crisp, freshly washed plate called out, “Here’s Hiddy…”

Kirsten Mbawa