We don’t talk to Mandy. Sometimes we sit near her just so she doubly knows we won’t talk to her. If she makes an effort, puts ribbons in her hair say, we laugh. If she doesn’t, we laugh more. Why don’t we like Mandy? I’ve no idea. But we don’t.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
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This work by Sarah Salway is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
4 comments:
I’m Mandy. I used to make an effort. I used to put ribbons in my hair. They just sat round me and laughed. Now I don’t bother. I know no one will talk to me, whatever I do, so I’ve given up. What’s the point? If only I knew why….
Oops. Meant to sign as Miriam. I wish I could work out how to make that automatic.
this is great! I was just thinking about the term coventry which I first puzzled over in mallory towers books and then forgot about even when as I high school nasty I was sending unfortunates there ... where does it come from? why doesn't anyone use it anymore... I sense a google binge going on ...
Words were so powerful, even then. You could be whisked away from the mainstream of conspiratorial whispers, waves and curls by the tiniest of slip-ups. That faux-pax marked your path to cove-entry, the inward curve, the recess from acceptance. It was hard to fight against the flowing wall of silence.
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