In maths, Geeta sits in front of me, long black plait— and Helen's, blue ribbon on her frizzled braid— not very tidy even if Hall Matron is strict.
I am busy and you always muss up your hair— what would your mothers say— biting your nails [...]
We get measured and weighed in the spring and once again in the fall. But who knows why I am short? All my energy goes running up and down the mountain: strange mountains—you run up and up for a long time, but on the map it looks only inches from [...]