Rules

nathan-dumlao-572049-unsplash-e1525753117959.jpgIt was Rosie who told her (Marie had never heard a teacher say it) but it seemed to be true because nobody did it. The packed lunches can’t sit at the school dinners’ tables.

Rosie who was the fastest. With the silky French braid that bounced on the small of her back when she raced her year group around the yellow boundary of the netball court.

Marie’s mum looked at the photo in Shout! “Your hair’s too thin for that.”

On the day Rosie wore her brother’s checked pants, the teachers grouped in the lunchroom to agree that, technically, technically, the girl was still in uniform.

Marie mashed the soft centre of her sandwich into her mouth and balled the rest in the cling-wrap as she slid along the bench, still chewing.

Mrs Bryant stepped in front of the bin. “Have you eaten your crusts?”

Marie turned back.

Published by Adhoc Fiction, February 2018

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