The sky seemed to reflect Margie’s mood today; the clouds were a cold steel grey and the wind tore through her jacket like a knife.

The sound of her brothers voice still rang in his ears as the tears that filled her eyes that Still stung.

Of course he had been right, but nobody had seen it from her point of view and now those angry words had been said, there was no taking them back. Thrusting her hands deep into her pockets, she made her way up school road and into the building. A huge shout came from behind, and Harry was there, full of beans and bobbing up and down. They were expecting a visit from the artist today. The friends both loved these sessions, usually Margie was keen to get in the classroom and help Mrs. Howard get up. I can’t wait to see the pots we made last week! Harry bellowed as he ran on ahead, nearly tripping over his trailing laces. Nor me Margie replied less than enthusiastically.

Harry pushed Margie out the way and nocked her pot onto the floor. NOOO! She cried with a tear drifting down her check. Margie was so upset, she had no words to say. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” Margie said raising her voice. “I’m, I’m sorry he said. “You should be” Margie replied crossly.