The Bench by the Fence

At lunchtime, Maya sat on the bench by the fence.

The bench was wooden and a little splintery. It was at the edge of the playground, where the grass got long and the daisies grew. From here, Maya could see everything.

Today, everyone was running. Everyone was laughing. Everyone except her.

The other children had a game called Whisper Whisper. Maya didn't know the rules. They had started it without her, and now it had grown big — too big — and to step into it now seemed impossible. Like trying to step onto a moving train.

She watched. She made her face look like she didn't mind. She picked at a splinter on the bench.