Pitty Ice

A/N: Yay for Playground!N&S. I had so much fun writing this – I hope you have even half as much fun reading it. Please review and tell me what you think!

*

Pitty Ice

*

Five-year-old Maggie Hale had never gone to preschool. Her parents had been the ones to play with her and teach her the alphabet and begin her education. This meant that she had never been away from them, which would make today, her first day at Milton Primary School, more formidable than it usually would be.

Clutching her father's hand in the middle of a schoolyard full of laughing children rushing about, most of them older and almost all of them bigger than she was, it was impossible not to feel intimidated. However, she did an admirable job of not showing her trepidation and worrying her father, and he left her outside her classroom, his doubts faded.

Maggie's facade of confidence and ease almost became real as the day progressed. She liked her teacher, Ms Higgins, very much, and the first day being spent mainly in 'getting to know you' games, did not present her with any fearful challenges that her home education had disadvantaged her for.

By recess time she had even made friends in the twin forms of Harry and Emily Lennox, whose Wiggles lunchboxes had indicated to her that they had shared interests and could not fail to find something to talk about.

Her day had almost been an unequivocally positive one, until lunchtime, when the whole class made their way outside for the special picnic Ms Higgins had organised for them. A special picnic rug had been set out at the edge of the oval, under the shade of some trees, and a generous spread of food awaited their eager consumption.

It was when their picnic was drawing to a close, with only a few still eating while most were simply talking to their new friends, or playing impromptu games of tag on the oval, that it all went wrong. Maggie had gotten up to get a cup of cordial from Ms Higgins, and was carrying it carefully as she made her way back to the spot of rug she had shared with Harry and Emily, when one of the boys playing tag had careened into her, knocking them both to the ground and sending the cordial flying.

To her relief, none of it spilled on her new top, but when she looked up, she saw that her companion had not been so lucky. He was covered in sticky red cordial, his hair damp and his irrevocably stained white T-shirt sticking to his skin. For a moment he simply sat there, looking so comical with his stunned expression and cordial dripping down his neck that Maggie could not help laughing.

She regretted it almost instantly however, as she saw a deep flush to rival the hue of the cordial suffuse his face. His features twisted in embarrassment and anger, and she had just opened her mouth to apologise when he cut her off. 'Stupid girl,' he hissed through gritted teeth. 'Why can't you watch where you're going?' Then handing back the cup to her with such ferocity that he almost threw it at her, he rose and left her gazing after him, eyes prickling with tears. In her whole wealth of experience gained in the immense period of five years, nobody had ever spoken to her so harshly.

As she watched him brusquely avoid Ms Higgins' concern, she found hurt giving way to anger, and she found she no longer felt sorry for laughing at him. It had been his fault, after all; he had been the one to knock into her; so how dare he turn on her like that?

From the encounter she received a bruised behind, smarting feelings and a conviction that she would never ever ever – cross her heart and hope to die, stick a needle in her eye – become friends with the boy whose name she later found out was Jonny Thornton.