The Glass Bird Girl (8 page)

Thwack!

‘
Y
ou'll be fine,' Sally said, as Edie followed the class reluctantly towards the lacrosse pitch, wearing a vest with the letters ‘W.A.' embroidered on it in bright orange. The class had been divided into two teams, the Blues, of which Edie was a member along with Phoebe, and the Reds, which included Alice, Sally and Anastasia. Miss Mannering, dressed in a purple tracksuit, and with a whistle slung round her neck, was leading the players at a brisk march towards the first of the three huge grass playing fields that lay to the side of the West Tower.

‘They all take it so seriously, it's pretty babyish if you ask me – so it's much better not to try and catch the ball than to try and catch it and bosh it all up,' Sally went on knowingly, as she and Edie trooped behind their excited classmates. ‘Do what I do – just wave your stick about a
bit to look like you're trying, and if you see the ball coming anywhere near you, hide behind someone else. It usually works. But it's bad luck being wing attack,' she added, looking at Edie's vest. ‘It means you have to run up and down all the time.'

‘Which way?' Edie asked nervously, trying to take all these instructions in.

‘Whichever way the ball's going,' Sally shrugged. ‘Just follow everyone else. You're over there, by the way,' she said – gesturing vaguely down the pitch.

‘Where?' Edie asked helplessly – but Sally seemed clueless too. The other girls were all rushing to their starting positions, where they stood half crouched, twirling their sticks in front of them as they waited for the action to begin.

‘Edith, over there!' Miss Mannering shouted, pointing across the pitch with a red flag – but Edie still hadn't worked out where she should be standing when the whistle shrilled, and the game began. The ball flew like lightning, now on one side of the pitch, now on the other, swishing from one stick to the next, with girls shouting from all sides:

‘Belinda!'

‘Clemmie!'

‘
Here! Here! Over here!
'

Edie pretended to follow the ball, though all the time she was working out who she would hide behind if it came too close.

But there seemed to be so many rules that the ball never stayed in play for long without the Man blowing
her whistle and telling someone off. Edie watched with relief when the action moved towards the far end of the pitch, where Belinda was standing in goal for the Blues, and noted with admiration how Alice clashed sticks with another player, then gracefully scooped up the ball and flew like a bird towards the goal while the other girls thundered clumsily behind her. Edie was confused about which direction she wanted the ball to go in, and when Belinda saved Alice's attempt at a goal she had to check the colour of her vest to work out whether she should be cheering or groaning. But everyone else seemed to be taking the game very seriously, and the Reds returned to their positions agreeing that with Belinda in goal they'd never be able to score.

‘She should have to swap teams each week so we all get a turn with her on our side, otherwise it's not really fair,' Rose said, clearly proud of her best friend, even though they were playing on opposing teams. ‘She's probably the best goalkeeper in the whole school.'

‘Hardly surprising,' said Phoebe snidely, when Rose was out of earshot. ‘With Belinda in goal there's no room for the ball to get through.'

Edie bristled, but pretended not to hear. Anastasia, meanwhile, seemed in a world of her own. She was in the goal for the Reds at Edie's end of the pitch, and stood slouched against a goalpost, twirling her stick in a pretence of readiness while surreptitiously reading a book.

So much for what Sally had said about Anastasia being a drama queen – on this occasion she seemed to be the only person who wanted no part of the action.
Edie felt she had found an ally and she was still watching her, amused, when the whistle blew, and the game started up again with a clattering of wooden sticks:

‘Emerald!'

‘Hatty!'

‘Over here!'

But to Edie's surprise Anastasia just went on reading, oblivious to the game being played out furiously around her.

Then suddenly Edie heard her own name being called, and looked round to see the ball spinning towards her. She flung up her stick, but the ball shot straight past, without even clipping the frame, and she turned to see Phoebe and Rose clashing sticks behind her.

‘Play on!' shouted the Man, as Phoebe tackled the ball from Rose and turned, spinning towards the goal. Girls from both teams came crashing up the pitch, screeching encouragement, but Anastasia went on reading.

‘Anastasia!' Edie shouted, for Phoebe had dived for the goal, with the ball cradled in her stick –

‘
Anastasia!
'

Anastasia finally looked up, and dropped her book in fright as she saw Phoebe whip the ball towards her. There was a thwack, and at first Edie thought Phoebe had hit the goalpost, but then Anastasia let out a shriek and fell to the ground, yelping.

Edie at once ran towards her. A crowd of girls had already gathered around the goal, ignoring Miss Mannering's whistle, but Edie noticed that Phoebe stayed
well back. Anastasia was rolling in the mud, clutching her ankle and moaning. To Edie's surprise some of the girls were sniggering, though Anastasia's pain looked very real.

‘Where does it hurt?' Edie asked, kneeling down in the mud beside her.

‘It was Phoebe, she – she . . . aaaah!' Anastasia winced, sucking in her breath. ‘She's broken my leg! Oh, Edie, please –
get someone
!'

Edie was startled – and for once she felt relieved when the Man appeared.

‘What have we here, a casualty of war!' Miss Mannering said briskly. The others were all sent back to their positions, and Miss Mannering remained tending to Anastasia in the goal for several minutes. Then she strode purposefully back down the pitch, and sent Alice to fetch Matron before instructing everyone to return inside.

Edie looked back at Anastasia anxiously, but no one else seemed to feel any sympathy for her, and she was glad her friend could not hear the chorus of condemnation as they walked back to the classroom.

‘This is the second time she's ruined a game with her hysterics – I can't believe the Man still falls for it . . .'

‘I bet it's just a bruise . . .'

‘And she says Phoebe hit her on purpose, when the only reason she got hit was because she was reading a book. I mean, how stupid is that?'

‘The Man would never have called off the game for one of us. They're all just terrified of the
princess
coming
to harm.'

‘She'll cry wolf once too often, then she'll learn . . .'

‘Learn? Oh, don't be stupid, that's the one thing she'll never do,' Phoebe cut in suddenly. ‘
She's just mad
. Completely mad.'

Both forms were gathered in the lower-school common room when Miss Winifred arrived, followed by Matron wheeling a cocoa trolley on which sat two steaming tureens. Behind them appeared a sheepish-looking Anastasia, carrying a tray of ginger nut biscuits.

‘I bring you Anastasia, bloody but unbowed,' Miss Winifred said in a cheerful voice, placing one hand in the small of Anastasia's back and gently steering her forwards. ‘I am sure you will all be relieved to hear that nothing is broken after all, and Anastasia is full of contrition for bringing the match to an end so soon. Aren't you, my dear?' she enquired, flashing her one of her sweet smiles.

Anastasia nodded, but kept her eyes lowered as she placed the biscuits on the table.

‘I assured her there would be no hard feelings if we made her lucky escape from Death in Goal an occasion for cocoa and biscuits,' Miss Winifred went on, gesturing at the refreshments ‘Am I right, girls?'

‘Rather,' said Sally, rushing forward to be first in the queue. ‘Thanks for the treat, Anastasia.'

‘It's nothing to do with me,' Anastasia said quietly.

‘Of course it's to do with you,' Miss Winifred replied. ‘You seem to forget, dear, that we discussed in the san
how you could make amends. You said that life was so much easier at home because you could always order nice things for people you upset, and I said I thought we could perhaps do something similar today, though of course we can't make a habit of raiding the school supplies.' She paused, then added softly, ‘Own your actions, dear child. And life will become much, much easier.'

‘And stop falsely accusing others,' murmured Phoebe, under her breath but loud enough to be heard by Belinda and Rose and Edie, who were all standing near. Belinda and Rose moved pointedly into the biscuit queue, as if wishing to disassociate themselves from Phoebe's vendetta. Edie followed, feeling uncomfortable on Anastasia's behalf.

But she was baffled too. It was true that Anastasia didn't look hurt – but then why had she made such a fuss on the pitch?

‘Now, girls,' said Miss Winifred, when everyone had got their rations. ‘We've got an un-timetabled half-hour to play with. Who says yes to a game of Hangman?'

Several pairs of hands shot up into the air.

‘Can I think of the word, please?' asked Sally, as Miss Winifred moved to the fold-up blackboard in the corner, and rubbed out a game of noughts and crosses that had been chalked up.

Miss Winifred cocked her head. ‘Mmm,' she said. ‘Have you already thought of one?'

‘
I
have, Miss Winifred,' pleaded Rose. ‘Can I be hangman?'

‘No, let me!'

‘I didn't have a turn last time!'

Edie supposed Hangman was a regular game among the first-years, for just about every hand was now raised.

‘I think you should be hangman, Miss Winifred,' someone called out, and Miss Winifred inclined her head gracefully.

Edie had never played Hangman before but she learnt the rules quickly enough. The girls called out letters, and in response Miss Winifred either drew a line of the hangman picture on the board or filled in a blank of her chosen word. Miss Winifred seemed to be enjoying the game as much as the girls were, gaily filling in each blank as the letters were guessed correctly.

‘O' and ‘A' were called, and the mystery word started to take shape: ‘-a-a-o-a.' The hangman picture waited only for its arms and legs.

‘Phoebe, give me a letter,' said Miss Winifred, her chalk poised over the blank spaces.

‘P,' Phoebe said, smirking.

‘Spot on,' Miss Winifred replied, chalking in the word's first letter.

Edie supposed Phoebe had only guessed it because it was the first letter of her own name. ‘Z,' she said defiantly, when her turn came next. Miss Winifred tutted and gave an arm to the hanging man.

‘Maybe instead of wasting another turn on a wrong letter, you should start thinking about the word. Come on. Surely one of you can guess?'

Everyone looked puzzled. But Edie, glancing at Anastasia, saw that the blood had drained from her face.
‘Anastasia, is it hurting?' she whispered, touching her arm, but Anastasia's face was blank.

Miss Winifred appeared to have spotted her discomfort too. ‘Anastasia, dear, why not try?'

‘Paranoia,' Anastasia croaked, staring at the floor.

‘Well done,' Miss Winifred murmured, filling in the gaps.

Phoebe let out a pointed laugh but several of the other girls looked baffled, clearly uncertain what the word meant.

Edie knew, and was amazed Miss Winifred could be so insensitive. For a moment Edie feared she would ask Anastasia to explain to everyone what paranoia was. But then the bell rang, and Miss Winifred wiped down the blackboard, smiling any queries away.

Anastasia left the room with a flounce, and Edie had to run down the corridor to catch up with her.

‘Anastasia, wait,' she said, catching her by the arm, but Anastasia shook herself free.

‘They can all think I'm paranoid if they want to, but I know Phoebe tried to hit me on purpose. She had the whole goal to shoot into, so why did she have to hit me? She obviously wanted to hurt me! It's just like her, she's so spiteful!'

‘Did it hurt?' Edie asked, hesitant.

‘Yes, it did!' Anastasia replied fiercely. ‘I hate this English thing that everyone has to put a brave face on everything and never complain. Why shouldn't I shout if I'm hurt?'

‘But I think you are brave, Anastasia,' Edie said quietly.
‘I think there are lots of things you never complain about.'

They had reached the dormitory, and when they were inside she closed the door and turned to Edie with a crumpled face, from which all the anger had vanished. ‘I'm not brave Edie, not like you,' she said, her voice choked by a sob. ‘But I'm not mad either. Miss Winifred wants me to see a doctor. She thinks I need special help. But I'm not going to. I refuse to be a special case. The whole
point
of coming here was to show I could be normal.' Anastasia paused. When she spoke again her voice was low and determined: ‘I
can
fit in, Edie, and I will!'