The Silver-Spotted Moth

Zadie was six, and at bedtime she liked to be a zebra foal. She wore her striped pyjamas and made a nest of blankets beside her bed. On her bedside table lay a homemade moth badge, with silver spots cut from the wrapper of a chocolate egg.

On Saturday morning, she pinned the badge to her cardigan. Downstairs, Mum was setting out cups for the neighbours. Their children were coming to spend the morning. Zadie had seen them before, but she had never found much to say.

Soon three children were sitting on the living room rug, trading dinosaur facts. Zadie watched from beside the bookcase. She wanted a place on that rug, close enough to see the pictures they were passing around.

“Some dinosaurs had feathers,” said Ben, holding his book open. He had brought it because he sometimes ran out of words with other children. Knowing the names helped him feel ready. He hoped somebody would ask about his favourite page.

Zadie knew about moths. She knew that some rested with their wings spread flat, while others folded them like little roofs. But she could not name the dinosaur on Ben’s page. What if they thought moths were boring? What if they turned away?