Room for a Pancake Monster

Idris kept his hands behind his back and pressed his shoulder against his bedroom doorframe. He wanted to sit beside the other children. He also wanted to stay exactly where he was, with most of himself outside the room.

His soft brown pyjamas had little ears on the hood. When he wore them, he was Idris the dormouse pup, and his hands were paws. Tonight those paws were tucked safely away. Mum sat on his bed, folding clean socks.

On the rug, Maya and Ben were making shadow puppets. A torch rested on a low shelf, shining towards the bare wall. Ben made a rabbit with long ears. Maya crossed her wrists, and a bird opened its wings above the skirting board.

“We're making a woodland,” Maya said. “Could you make another rabbit, Idris? Mine keeps looking like a fork.” She moved over to leave him room. Idris looked at the space, then at the door.

Shyness made his tummy feel tight, as though his pyjama cord had been pulled. He had tried making rabbits yesterday. His fingers would not stay in the right places. They'll laugh when they see mine, he thought. Wanting to join did not make the worry disappear.