It doesn’t last. Next day, I’m in the wringer again. Louise cries too easily and is too likely to tell. Louise’s mother would not stand for anybody giving her girl a bad time. She would bring it into the open, tackle Mary and Sally’s parents, get them punished. I am safe. I take what they dole out and wrap it up inside.
Louise goes back to England and the other two stop calling for me. I feel myself dimming in their eyes. Even bullying me isn’t interesting enough to hold them. All that summer I feel something leaving me, draining out of me, like water down a plughole.
Back in school in September, Mary tells everybody that I believe in fairies. I have never been popular but now the others sense a new weakness and round in. Mary leads the pack, guides the moves. Water is poured into my sch
