Goddess Girls, S. L. Zeigler [rocket ebook reader txt] 📗

Prelude

In a world where everyone knew god, the men ruled the women and all knew. God created boys and those boys created their girls. Except for the Goddess girls. The Goddess made few children, but all were girls. When they were born you couldn't tell the difference, but they were different. They were few and far between but they didn't have to obey and they had no men. They were so uncommon that they were no more than a legend in most towns.
 


Chpt. 1 (Life as I know it)

She was born into a family called the Hallers. Mr. and Mrs. Hallers weren't very nice to anyone, including their children. They beat their own children starting when they were as young as three years, especially the girls. So when this girl was born, her parents were furious, but her oldest brother took her to the next Children’s Meeting. Since all the girls were created by boys, they were all born in the same towns. When a boy finds his girl (as soon as they see each other) the girl tells her mom and dad good bye and she leaves with the boy.
She does not find a boy that matches her but she has to go, so says the law. In her mind though, the only good thing about law was that she could still go to school, because the law states, When a girl finds her man she must stop schooling with boys and learn from her boy or no one. Until he and his girl are together she must go to school. So she goes to school.
"Katya, Katya, the oldest single girl, ha, ha, ha-ha, ha!" teases her class mates, even her teacher taunts her and tests her because she is a She.
I'm Katya. My full name is Katayla Lemo Hallers. As I write down my math home work I try to ignore them. I think, At least this teacher doesn’t grade me down because I'm a girl. I hold back from calling them every bad name I can think of and pack up my stuff so I can go home and get my chores and home work done before my father gets home. My beatings are not as bad when I get everything done before hand. Everyone knows that I get beaten but no one cares because I'm a girl and Father is a boy. The law got Mother to quit beating any of us and Father to quit beating my brothers and their girls and all my sisters that do not live with us or are younger than five. So that leaves me for him to take out all his anger on.
When I get up to leave some of the boys get mad at me for not reacting and push me into the wall. One of them tries to strangle me but I twist and duck and weave, so I am next to the door with them in front of me.
"One thing about getting beatin' on a daily basis is that you practice fighting with your brothers whenever they are willing and you aren’t too hurt." I tell them before I stride out the door. I can hear them calling after me until I leave the building.
They can always tell when a girl has not found her boy. The ones that have wear dresses or skirts on bottom, so their boys have easier access, so they told me. I always wear pants though; I couldn't stand the thought of giving boys 'better access' so to speak; I also don't want to be impaired when fighting.

Father drives up the driveway and I am scared, he is mad. I can tell. He had a bad day. I run out side and open his door, it is always better when I do. He steps out of the truck and slaps me across the face.
"Hello, Sir." I tell him keeping my voice soft but strong. He grabs me by the arm swinging me around and tossing me to the ground, and then marches inside. I stand up, shut the truck door and follow him in. "Food, Sir?"
"Now!" he commands. "Then get over here!" I bring him his food and kneel before him.
He tries the food and then set it down and slaps me. I show him no emotion. "I thought I told you I don't like curry!"
"Sorry, Sir. Mother made it, Sir. Shall I get you something else?"
"Obviously!" he grabs my arm and shakes me, when he releases me I stand up and get him different food.
"Here you are, Sir." I offer him the food, "sweet and sour chicken, Sir."
"Good, kneel. NOW!" I kneel, and wait while he eats, then take his dishes to the kitchen, clean them and come back and kneel again. "Come."
When we get into my room (I can't call it a bedroom because there is no bed just a thirty-six square foot room with three sets of clothes in it) he beats me. Punching me in the gut and taking a belt to my back and front. He slaps me, and kicks me while I am on the floor, tears streaming down my face. Please, oh please do not be one of those days! 'One of those days' means one of the days he proves he is better than me. He does not just beat me; he proves he is better than me every way he can. Mother knows. She does not care.

It had been one of those days, I think as I gingerly put on clothes so I can go to school. At least he did not break anything this time. When I look in the cracked bathroom mirror I see a pale face with a bruise that was going to end up more black than blue forming across my cheek and small bun on the top of my head made of brown hair. My freckles, standing out more than usual, scattered my face.
"Ya'll comin'," I ask my brothers as I exit the bathroom. When the seven that go to the same school as me look over, I can see how bad they feel about Fathers treatment of me for a quiet moment until the oldest breaks it.
"I'm comin'," he tells me as he gets up from the couch and grabs his pack and gives his girl a kiss on the cheek. "See you when I get home," he tells her. There is a mumble of voices as the other six stand up and follow suit. I hear a door open down the hall and hurry out the door.
I'm halfway down the driveway before my brothers catch up.
"What you in such a big hurry for?" asks my seven year old brother, the youngest of the seven that go to my school.
"She was gitin' out of the house before Father came in, ain't that right sista?" answers my next youngest brother.
Why don't you shut your trap before I shut it for you? I want to say, instead I merely said "Yes."
"You guys know better than to talk to her when Father was mad, and you know she could take down at least three of us before we could get her pinned if we were all working together, so shut up!" my oldest brother says, you can hear the regret burning in his voice.
"Thank you, Tim." I say still trying to resist the urge to throttle all of them, but I like the way he said 'if'. I wonder if he would be part of that 'if', or if he was speaking of some off chance.
I am still thinking about that when some of my classmates join us, coincidentally turning off a side street at the same time we pass it. One of them is Mr. Strangle-Happy or Tylor. My hands ball up into fists and I take a deep breath.
"Hay, look who it is, Miss. I-Don't-Have-A-Man!" snickers one of them, Jeff.
"Neither do your girls because they have baby boys!" I throw back. When I turn around to see how they take it, all I see is my brothers facing me shoulder to shoulder blocking my view.
"Katya, calm down,” George tells me.
"NO! I bet that if I told you what they did yesterday that you would stop trying to protect them."
"What did they do?" Tim asked cautiously.
"They tried to strangle me with their friends!" I was screaming by the end of the sentence. They just stare unbelievingly at me. "I'm NOT kidding!" Finally, Modle understands I am not lying to him.
"You're not serious, are you?" asks Yar, the youngest.
"I think she is Yar," Modle tells him. Suddenly all my brothers have their backs to me and have stopped walking. I push past Tim so I can get to my class mates.
"Let us take care of them, Katya," why Tim, why do you have to do this to me? D*mn, d*mn, d*mn-ity-d*mn, D*MN! Why do I have to listen to him!
I walk up to Jeff and punch him in the face. "It is on!" I hear him say before he swings his fist. He is so right! I dodge his punch and return with one of my own into his gut. I feel hands on my shoulders and waist pulling me back, away from Jeff and Tylor.
"NO!" This is my fight; they are holding him back and are standing between us. "No, no. This is MY fight!" I cannot believe this, they, my brothers, are not letting me fight. I punch and kick and thrash. The three of them that were holding me are down for the count and the two that were between us are walking over when I hear the truck engine. I run, to the trees on the side of the road, to hiding. The two getting ready to fight me quickly realize what is happening and as I watch from my spot in the trees, Tim and Yar tug Modle, Ham (short for Harrison), and Jack off the road and George and Raz pull Jeff and Tylor off too, keeping them quiet with a hand over the mouth.
Just in time too. Father comes into view ten seconds after they get to cover.
"You. Are. Good!" complements Ham between gasps.
"Not my fault ya'll teach me to fight by all ganging up on me, now is it? What thirty-five to one?"
"No, guess it isn't," agrees Raz, "but what should we do with these two, Tim?"
"Strangle them just like they tried to do to me," I advise.
"No, let them go, but if we here of another incident we will help Katya, not you," Tim warns. After Jeff and Tylor go hurrying to school Tim tells me, "Now get out of the trees and let me see your neck!"
I sulk out of the trees muttering about boy's protective instincts. "Look, proof," I say gesturing to my neck. "Sir. Hit-Happy didn't do that!"
"Hell, how'd you get away? How'd they get hold of you?" asks Jack, now somewhat recovered from the fight. "Actually, don't tell me, I'd rather not know."
"Well, anyone know what we should write on our note? I was thinking maybe something to do with Joey." Joey is my youngest brother so far, he is two. He found his girl Georgia when he is three months old.
"How about, 'Joey was sick this morning and I wanted the kids to stay and help me.' then sign it Mrs. Hallers." says George.
"OK." I write it down in my best Mother-imitation hand writing, scribbling