Hidden Hurts

Chapter 6: Hidden Hurts

1989

Fred, George, and Annie were riding their bikes aimlessly along the streets of Ottery St. Catchpole. The late summer afternoon was very warm and sunny, and they were looking for a shady place to cool off for a bit. Annie was leading them toward the schoolyard where some swings sat beneath a large tree.

As they turned the corner, Annie's heart sank in disappointment. She usually tried to steer clear of any other local kids while she was with Fred and George in order to keep the explanations and lies to a minimum. Unfortunately, the schoolyard was not empty, as she had hoped it would be. Instead, four boys already sat perched on the swings.

Her mood soured further as she recognized one of the boys: Tim Molloy. He was a year behind her in school, but large for his age and rapidly gaining the reputation of alpha school bully.

Annie tried to catch her friends' attention and redirect them away, but it was too late. They had rolled in front of her as she had slowed down and were already hopping off their bikes, walking toward a bench. While they never sought out the company of any Muggle children other than herself, the twins had no reservations about interacting with them occasionally. It almost never happened, anyway.

If she called out to them now, asking them to leave with her, it would look like she was scared of Molloy. And that she most certainly was not. She dropped her bike next to Fred's and strolled over to the bench. Maybe we can just sit peacefully for a few minutes, then move on....

She never made it that far.

"Ooh, lads. Look who's here. It's that stuck-up Annie Jones."

Annie glared at the beady eyes sunken into a rodent-like face, his sharp little teeth exposed in a sneer. Of course Molloy would choose her to pick on. She was the smallest of the children present in the schoolyard, appeared to be the least likely to be able to defend herself. Wouldn't he look so cool in front of his friends for picking on someone unpopular and known to be older than he was? Annie turned away from him, praying he would drop it if she didn't rise. But if he didn't....

"She thinks she's too good for the likes of us here in Ottery, don't she? Don't talk to none of us. Turns her pig-nose up to the sky. Well, I know better. I know a little secret," he said, oozing malevolence.

Annie turned toward the boy and took several steps closer to him, her worst fears coming true. "Shut up. Now," she warned him.

She knew the secret he was referring to and hoped the threat in her eyes would convince him to keep it to himself, for now at least. She could care less what he or the other school kids thought they knew about her, but Fred and George were different: they didn't know. They were the only ones who didn't, it seemed – and she desperately wanted to keep it that way.

The boys behind Molloy were chuckling amongst each other. Then the laughter stopped suddenly as they rose to their feet, glaring over her shoulders.

She glanced around to see what they were looking at. Fred and George were now standing supportively on either side of her. George had a curious look on his face, as if wondering what all this fuss was about. Fred, on the other hand, had a look of anticipation, clearly itching for a fight to relieve the boredom of the day.

"Who the hell are you lot?" barked Molloy.

"Reckon we're the fellows who'll even up the odds in this fight," answered Fred.

"Unless you wise up and get lost, that is," added George.

"I don't think there's a brain cell among 'em, mate," taunted Fred, shaking his head.

"What's your problem, anyway?" asked George.

"My problem," Molloy hissed, rising up from his swing and taking a step closer, "is people who think they're better than they are. I know the truth about you, Annie Jones. You're nothing but a bastard, and your mother's a crack whore to boot. What's your dad's name, anyway? You don't know, do you? Bet your mum don't, neither."

Annie launched herself with a screaming snarl into Molloy's doughy body, knocking him to the ground. Her fists pounded his face in the immediate moments afterward while he was too stunned to defend himself. When he gathered his wits an instant later, shoving his hands into her face in an attempt to push her away, she bit down on some unknown part of a hand, and he screamed in pain.

"Ged'erovme!"

One of Molloy's toadies tried to yank Annie off of him and partially succeeded. Her tiny body weighed next to nothing, after all, and her weight alone offered little resistance. Her fists and feet were still flying, though, and her writhing body made her difficult to hold on to.

As soon as her feet made contact with the earth again, she arched her back as she kicked against the pavement, crashing the back of her skull into her captor's face, bloodying his nose and knocking him out cold. The boy released her on his way down. Annie stumbled a bit then, her own head rattled by the collision.

Fred and George had been standing still, open-mouthedly watching the melee, stunned not only by what the boy had said, but at Annie's reaction as well. Their first instinct was not to believe the boy's outrageous claim. But then, they had never seen her so furious: she had gone berserk.

As soon the second boy joined the fray, however, they were jolted into motion and leaped to help their friend. George caught Annie before she could fall to the ground. He hauled her away from the fracas to prevent any more damage to her or the other boys. Fred took on another boy, who had sensed an easy target in Annie while she was dazed and had started to move after her. He gave the boy a good shove to the ground. None of the others moved to challenge him further.

"Should've listened to her and kept your mouth shut," Fred spat, shaking his head as he turned to walk away.

It was a long way back to the tree fort. The three of them rode their bikes silently along the road. As she pedaled her bike, Annie's rage dissipated, only to be replaced by a mixture of shame and dread.

Yes, she was ashamed of her parentage. Who wouldn't be? Everything Molloy had said was true: her mother was a drug addict, and the identity of her father was a mystery. But that isn't my fault! She became angry at herself for being ashamed. She hadn't done anything wrong, after all.

And then the dread.... What would be her friends' reaction, now that they finally knew the truth about her? Her awful secret she had kept hidden from them for four years was finally exposed. Would this be the end of her idyllic escape from the world of the village, where everyone knew the sordid tale about her mother? The knowing looks, the clucking tongues, the pitying gazes: she loathed them all equally.

The three children sat quietly for a few moments in the safe haven of the fort. As she stared at the floor, Annie steeled herself to see on their faces one of the two expressions she hated most in the world: embarrassed distaste or condescending superiority. They were pretty much the only two reactions she had ever met with, once someone discovered her secret. At that moment, she hated all secrets with a passion.

Reluctantly determined to face the music, she looked up at the boys, meeting their gaze for the first time since the schoolyard. She was surprised by what she saw: two pairs of warm brown eyes that were full of genuine concern mixed with a generous sprinkling of confusion.

"Are you okay? You took a pretty good hit to the head, back there," asked Fred.

"I gave a good hit to the head, you mean," she argued. Then she bit her tongue. That wasn't what she had wanted to say. She didn't want to argue with them. She tried again.

"I suppose you're wondering what that was about," she started.

Both boys shrugged in response.

"Somebody had to shut that bloody git up," offered George.

Annie sighed. "That's not what I mean. I'm talking about my... parents." She said the word with discomfort. It didn't have the same cozy, reliable connotation for her that it did for everyone else she knew.

Fred shook his head, dismissing her attempts at any explanation. "You live with your Gran. End of story, as far as we're concerned."

Annie looked at him with unveiled consternation. "It doesn't matter to you... that I don't have a mother and father?"

"Not that way. I mean... well... maybe it sucks for you, but you've got your Gran, right? You're doing fine without them. And honestly, you've heard us tell you the stories about our mum – how she's bangin' on at us all the time about every little thing. Take it from me: mums can be overrated, you know?"

Shocked fury flooded into Annie. "How can you say that?" she yelled at Fred, scrambling to her feet. "You have no idea what you're talking about! I hope you never know what it's like! Your mother loves you! She's there at home... waiting for you... RIGHT NOW!"

Angry tears began flooding down her cheeks. She had to get out, get away from the alarmed, almost frightened looks on her friends' faces. Annie practically dove out of the trapdoor on the floor, running as soon as she hit the ground.

"Annie!" they both called from inside.

She didn't turn around. She couldn't face anyone right now. Her mental anguish had translated itself into an almost physical pain, stabbing at her gut. The rage and the tears were mortifying beyond reason. Why do I always do this? Completely lose control of myself, when I get upset? Especially about... her.

Annie kept running until she reached the big river.

"Annie!"

She recognized George's voice coming up behind her. She had heard him following her, calling her name, but had hoped he would have given up the chase before now. "Please go away," she begged him, keeping her back to him while struggling to keep her voice from breaking. She had already lost the battle with her tears – she didn't want to be a complete display of weakness in front of him.

"He didn't mean it that way. He was just trying to cheer you, you know. Being stupid about it, yes, but he didn't mean any harm," he explained.

Judging by his voice, she reckoned he was standing right next to her. But she couldn't risk turning to look at him. "I know. Go tell him I'm sorry, will you?" She sniffed.

"I'm not leaving until you're okay. We'll go back together and you can tell him yourself," he argued.

She nodded and stared out over the rippling water of the river. Deep breaths were helping her to regain some semblance of control.

"He's right about one thing, though. You're doing just fine, you and your Gran. She loves you, you know," George offered softly.

"I know!" Annie wailed as she fell to her knees, a fresh new pain bubbling up. There seemed to be a never-ending fountain of it somewhere inside her. She knew they were traitorous, the thoughts she secretly harbored. "And I'm a miserable little shit for wanting my mother instead! My stupid mother, who never wanted me!"

She looks a lot like Ginny, George thought as he watched Annie, hunched over on the ground with her face in her hands. Just like his little sister, sobbing with some hurt or other. Only this is a bit more serious than a skinned knee or singed finger, he sensed.

He knelt beside Annie and put his arm around her, like he had done to comfort his baby sister in hundreds of other instances. Annie turned toward him, rested her head on his shoulder, and cried, just like Ginny would do.

Based on past experience with Annie's temper, George predicted this storm would likely blow itself out quickly as well, and he was thankful for that. He was disturbed by this side of Annie: the raw, hurting one. It bothered him that there was something inside his friend that caused her such pain. Something he didn't understand at all. It bothered him even more that there seemed to be nothing he could do to help. Everything he or his brother had said so far had just made it worse. He sat next to her, stewing in silent, concerned confusion.

"Thanks," she whispered after a long minute. "Sorry for taking your head off. 'Fraid you're just in the wrong place at the wrong time, mate."

"I'll survive," he assured her. "How about you?"

Annie nodded. "I'll survive." She sighed, wiping her face with her hands. "I suppose I'd better go apologize to Fred now."

"He'll keep; take your time," he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before dropping his arm. "You look like crap, anyway. Take a minute and wash your face," he teased her, hoping to cheer her a bit.

Finally, something he said worked to lighten the gloom. She sputtered and laughed as she crawled to the river's edge and splashed water on her face. She turned and tossed a handful of water at him.

In a comfortingly typical response, George took a running leap and splashed into the shallow water, soaking them both. The cool water helped restore a more pleasant mood, and together they walked dripping through the woods back to the fort.

*

Annie stood on a stepstool in order to reach the counter and carefully sliced a mushroom. She held the large knife confidently in her small hand. What she lacked in speed she made up for in uniformity – each slice of mushroom was equally thin.

"Careful, now," her Gran cautioned needlessly as Annie made the last cut. She had been rolling out the dough for the crust on the counter next to her granddaughter and now arranged it into the dish. Afterwards, she reached up into the cupboard above Annie's head and removed the cow-bell shaped grater.

Meredith knew this was her favorite part, and Annie's eyes lit up with pleasure, as expected. The girl giggled as she shredded a hunk of cheese with gusto.

"That's plenty, Annie," her Gran chuckled. "A good handful is all we need," she explained. "Would you like to break the eggs this time?"

Annie nodded eagerly. That part had always looked like fun – cracking the shells – and she had never been asked to do it before.

"Watch me do the first one.... A quick knock on the edge here, not too hard... then push your thumb into the dent here, like this. Your turn, now," Gran instructed as she pushed the carton of eggs toward Annie.

"Oops," Annie exclaimed as the first eggshell shattered into the bowl.

"That's all right," Gran reassured her. "Just reach in and fish them out.... You missed a piece... there. A little less force this time.... Ah, that's better. Eight all together, love... then whisk it up. Throw in a bit more elbow into it, Annie, don't be shy. That's my girl!"

Meredith beamed at her granddaughter while she herself arranged the mushrooms and cheese into the pie crust. "D'you think you can pour them in?"

Annie nodded with confidence. She did a good job, too; not a drop was spilled on the counter.

They sat together at the table while the quiche was baking in the oven. "All right now – go over it again."

Annie recited the recipe, step by step. She loved spending time like this with her Gran, learning to cook. Her worst day in the kitchen with Gran beat any day at school; that much she was sure of.

Gran nodded, letting her know that she had gotten all the steps correct. "Someday soon I'll teach you how to make the crust," she promised.

After finishing a tall glass of milk, Annie broke the companionable silence. "May I go camping this Friday in the woods?" she asked nervously.

"Overnight? By yourself?" Meredith was concerned and inclined to say no. Annie's only eleven, after all.

Annie was quietly chewing her bottom lip, debating her next move. By answering her Gran's question honestly, she knew she would either save or doom her chances. She wasn't really ready to start sneaking out of the house and had determined to abide by her decision.

"Actually, I've been invited by some friends," she confessed uncertainly. She knew enough to omit the identity of those friends and hoped Gran wouldn't ask for specifics. She never liked lying to her – but lying had become unavoidable over the past four years.

"Oh, well, that's all right then, I suppose. Just in the woods here, and not too far?"

Annie nodded eagerly.

Meredith was relieved: not only that Annie wouldn't be alone, but that she was actually making friends in the village. Small towns could be brutal when it came to gossip, and she understood that life was tough on Annie because of it. It was nice to think some girls in town were making an effort to include her granddaughter in a fun activity.

"You can go get the bedroll from out of the attic, and we'll air it out today. Is there anything else you need to bring?" Meredith asked.

Annie was surprised as well as thrilled at how easy this was turning out to be. She decided to push her luck. "They asked if I could bring some snacks. I thought maybe I could get some sodas, as well?"

Meredith smiled. Of course the children would want sweets and junk to eat, and who could blame them? "We'll nip into the market later today then."

Annie was over the moon with happiness. The stage was set for a grand party, for sure!

Two days later, Annie waddled off across the field and into the woods as Meredith watched through the open window. Her little body looked overwhelmed by the large backpack stuffed with food, her sleeping bag, and the rest of the gear she thought she might need: rubber bands, squirt guns, playing cards, a flashlight, and the whistle Meredith had given her to blow if anything went wrong, promising to come and find her. She could see even from this far away that Annie's face was the picture of contentment.

Annie entered the woods, still shady and cool this early in the morning. The trek to the fort took a bit longer than usual due to the heavy pack, but she still got there before the boys. She propped the backpack against the willow's trunk, dug out the cans of soda, and set them into the cool water of the nearby stream. Then she fished out a large handful of rubber bands, hid her pack in a nearby shrub, and crept up into the fort, preparing for an ambush.

Not much later, she heard the boys crashing through the woods. They never have been much for stealth, she laughed silently to herself. She twisted the rubber band in her hand, forming a gun shape with her fingers, and took aim.

"Ouch!" cried Fred, clasping a hand to his ear as the first missile hit her target.

George immediately took evasive action and barely ducked in time, avoiding what would have been a direct hit to the face. Annie revealed her position with a giggle.

"You're gonna get it, now," warned Fred as he clambered up the tree and cornered her in the fort. He caught Annie and put her in a headlock – she was laughing too hard to put up much of a fight – and fiercely rubbed her scalp with his knuckles.

"Stop!" she gasped. "Not my hair!"

The boys always knew that doing anything to her hair would get her riled up. They thought it was vanity, and maybe it was a little, Annie granted. But mostly it was because she was cursed with a very tender scalp. She could handle all the punches, slaps and pinches anyone could dish out anywhere else, but when her curls got pulled, tears would always come unbidden to her eyes. Attacking her hair was taking an unfair advantage, she felt.

Finally, Fred released her, and they all sat down on the floor. The boys' long legs took up the majority of the floor space, so Annie folded hers underneath her body.

"Wish you could've come too, Annie. It was bloody amazing!" Fred raved.

George eagerly agreed with his brother. "Fortescue's was brilliant! I've never seen so much ice cream in one place!"

"And Quality Quidditch! That latest Nimbus model looked wicked fast, I swear. Bet Charlie wishes he could ride one of those, instead of the old Cleansweep..."

"But Gambol & Japes – that was the best. We spent everything we had there."

"That's the life, isn't it, George? Nothing but jokes and pranks all day long, year in, year out...."

George nodded in hearty agreement with his twin.

"So, show me some! Didn't you bring any?" Annie asked.

Both boys' smiles faded to rueful smirks.

"Nah, Mum confiscated practically the lot," George groaned.

"We'll be lucky to nick it back before we leave," Fred sighed.

And there it was: the elephant in the room. The twins were leaving for Hogwarts in just a couple of days from now, leaving Annie to suffer through life in Ottery without them. Her best friends were so excited to leave her behind, heading off to live in a castle and learn to do magic like proper wizards, while she got to look forward to algebra and book reports. Annie scowled.

"So, what about you? D'you bring anything?" Fred asked.

She was slightly cheered by the thought of the soda cooling in the river. "Oh, yeah. Thirsty?" she asked as she began to clamber down out of the tree house.

"Sure," they both agreed, but made no move to follow her.

Annie trekked the short distance to the stream and retrieved the now chilled cans out of the water. She pulled three of them out of the plastic rings, then replaced the rest in the water to save them for later that night. She looked up when she reached the base of the tree once more. Two smiling faces were peeking down at her from the trapdoor.

"Catch!" she ordered as she tossed up the cans one at a time.

"What's this stuff?" Fred asked once she climbed back into the fort.

"Soda. Gran usually doesn't let me have it, but seeing how this is a special occasion and all...."

Annie popped open the tab as the boys watched curiously, then copied her action. Both of them were startled by the loud pop and hiss as the pressurized gas escaped the can – Fred even sniffed the small opening, much to Annie's amusement. They both looked back to Annie for further direction.

"It's sweet... and fizzy, see?" she instructed, then took several large gulps. After a few more moments and some excellent gastro-esophageal command, Annie produced an impressively loud belch.

"Good one!" cried George, as both boys rushed to swallow their own gulps.

The children spent the following half hour trying to outdo each other's rudeness, laughing between turns. Annie made it all the way to F, and Fred won the contest by making it to H when attempting to recite the alphabet in one go.

"It's a bit like butterbeer, isn't it?" George asked his brother, draining his can of the final sip.

"Not as sweet, though," argued Fred, "and a bit fizzier. Nearly as good as belching powder, I reckon."

The children climbed back down out of the stifling heat inside the fort. The day was growing hot quickly, and they all agreed that getting wet would be a good solution. They walked in single file toward the deep pool Annie had discovered last year in a bend in the stream.

"I bet we could chuck her halfway across," Fred whispered, turning his head slightly back towards his trailing brother. He slowed their pace slightly, allowing Annie to pull ahead of them a bit.

"You think? That far?" George sounded doubtful.

"At least," Fred assured him confidently. "She can't weigh more than four stone. One sickle."

"You're on. And you don't have one sickle."

"I'll take the arms...."

George nodded slightly in agreement, understanding the rest of the unspoken plan immediately.

As soon as they reached the bank and Annie had kicked off her shoes, she was ambushed by the boys. Fred grabbed her arms and George her feet.

"Hold your breath!" Fred hollered as they began to swing her back and forth.

"One... two... three!"

Annie flew into the air over the stream, arms and legs flailing, before she plunged into the refreshing water with an enormous splash. As she surfaced, she could hear the raucous laughter of her friends still on the bank.

"She was five feet in the air, at least!"

"Still, that was nowhere near halfway across. You owe me a sickle!"

"That was brilliant! Do it again!" she cried as she splashed her way back to the shore.

They built a small fire that evening, just enough to heat their dinner and toast a few marshmallows; it was too hot for anything more. Rather than suffer inside the fort, they'd set up their bedrolls on the cooler ground near the bank of the stream, hoping to take advantage of any cooling breezes. The sky was cloudless, at any rate, so rain wasn't a concern.

The stars were just beginning to twinkle as they sat around the dying fire. Suddenly Fred noticed something was poking his leg, and an excited smile spread across his face as he recalled what was hidden in his pocket. He had completely forgotten about it all day.

"Oi, Annie. Check it out!" Fred exclaimed as he slowly pulled out his new wand from his pocket.

"Is that what I think it is? A real magic wand?" she murmured.

Annie's wide eyes lit up – he could see the excitement in them even in the dim light of the tiny fire. The awestruck tone of her voice was as gratifying to him as it was unmistakable. Fred nodded as Annie crept closer to get a better look.

Her brow furrowed in slight confusion. "It looks like an old stick, doesn't it?"

"What d'you mean? It's a proper wand and brand new to boot! Blackthorn, with dragon heartstring," he explained with injured pride. Fred put the wand back in his pocket in a huff.

"Oh," said Annie. She hadn't meant to offend him, but apparently had anyway. "Did you get one as well, George?"

George nodded and began fishing in his own pocket. "Apple wood, with dragon heartstring as well," he informed her casually as he held it out for her inspection.

Annie reached out a tentative finger and gingerly touched it. It felt cool and smooth, just like any polished wood would.

"It won't bite. Here, you take it," he offered.

Annie's heart skipped a beat. She'd been dying to ask him that very thing. But as she reached out for it, Fred interrupted.

"George, be careful," he warned. "She probably shouldn't touch it."

George smirked at his brother and rolled his eyes.

Annie's hackles rose. Why shouldn't I touch it? It's nothing but a silly piece of wood, after all. She wouldn't harm it. And she certainly wasn't afraid of it....

Annie took the wand in a firm grasp, glaring at Fred with indignant anger. Immediately, the handle began to grow warm in her grip. It quickly became frighteningly hot.

"George?" she asked, a little worried.

George's face instantly became alarmed at her tone. He reached out with his own hand to take the wand back from her. For an instant their hands met, both holding the wand at the same time. A brilliant yellow explosion of light shot out of the end of the wand and struck the willow's trunk with a loud clap.

A black scorch mark about the size of a dinner plate now marred the tree. It was still smoking as Annie and George stared wide-eyed at each other, mouths agape.

"You idiot! George, you've done it now!" cried Fred, panicked at the thought that George had activated his Trace and they were about to be descended upon by the Ministry.

"It wasn't me, I swear!" cried George, defensively.

Fred considered this a moment, apparently deciding whether or not to believe his brother. "I told you not to let her touch it," he snapped in his indecision. "Put that damn thing away!"

"You mean – I did that?" Annie stammered in a weak voice.

"No, stupid git! The wand did. Muggles aren't supposed to touch them. They're liable to go off. You could've done some real damage, you know," Fred scolded her.

"Sorry," she said in a soft, humbled voice.

"Lay off, Fred," growled George. "No harm done. Blimey, though, that was friggin' awesome, Annie," he tried to cheer her, chuckling in surprise.

"It's still smoking, Annie," Fred laughed in spite of his concern.

Annie smiled. "That was the coolest thing ever, wasn't it? Completely wicked, eh?" She took a moment to imagine how useful a wand would be in the schoolyard this year, fantasizing about picking off a choice few of her schoolmates....

"You're a hazard, Annie, that's for sure," laughed George.

All three children were deep but restless sleepers, so when they awoke with the morning sun shining in their faces, arms and legs were scattered and tangled like a pile of sleeping puppies. They sat up, stretched, and headed off in opposite directions to take care of personal business.

Annie returned to the campsite a short while later to find the boys looking at her expectantly. How typical, she grumbled inwardly – she, as the girl, was expected to be responsible for feeding them. She didn't mind, for the most part. Like her Gran, she enjoyed cooking and took pride in the fact people liked her food. She was in a bit of a mood this morning, however, and decided to have some fun with them.

"What?" she asked testily.

"Aren't you hungry?" George asked.

"Yes, I am. What's for breakfast?" she asked innocently.

Both boys began to look a bit concerned. "Dunno – what have you got?" Fred asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"Didn't you bring anything?" she asked, faking incredulousness.

"We never do, Annie. You always bring the food," Fred explained.

"Huh. You know what, you're right. I always do. How about that?"

"Blimey, Annie. I guess we just assumed..." George mumbled.

"Yes. You assumed. You take me for granted, you know," she scolded them as she started digging through her backpack.

"Don't get all bent! We always say thanks," Fred argued defensively.

"No, she's right Fred. We never offer to bring anything, or help out. Sorry, Annie."

"That's much better. You may have a muffin, George," she said as she tossed it to him.

Fred scowled, irritated by her manipulative tactics. He was irritated even more that his brother caved in to them so quickly. Still, he was rather hungry. "Sorry, Annie," he grumbled with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Annie chuckled. "I know you don't mean to be such a git, Fred," she smiled sweetly as she tossed him a muffin as well.

He stuck out his tongue at her before stuffing the muffin whole into his mouth.

Annie sighed as she ate her muffin slowly. She wanted to savor their last brief hour together before the twins left for the year. George had explained that they would have to spend the day at home, packing their trunks and cleaning their room before they left early tomorrow morning. Fred reached out to grab the box of muffins from her for seconds and likely thirds, and in her distraction, she made no move to protest.

George punched her lightly in the shoulder. "Don't look so glum," he coaxed her.

Annie forced a half-smile onto her face. She was tired of moping and whining, of wishing she could go where she never could, of wanting to be who she never would become. And she sure as hell didn't want their pity.

"It won't be so bad. We'll write you, you know," he offered.

"D'you swear? Both of you?" she demanded.

Both boys crossed their hearts and nodded. "Swear," they both mumbled around mouthfuls of muffin.

Annie smiled – a genuine smile this time. It will have to do, she supposed. It's better than nothing.