Bokelskere.no

And suddenly she has had enough. Enough of hiding and enough of pretending. She is not Tiger Girl. She is Tally. She was brave enough to rescue Rupert in the dark and she was brave enough to walk all the way up five flights of stairs and into this hospital room on her very own feet. Tiger Girl doesn't run away and Tiger Girl doesn't flap her hands when she's scared or excited. Tiger Girl doesn't hum songs to herself when everything feels too busy or noisy. Tiger Girl doesn't get angry or upset or hurt because Tiger Girl isn't real. But Tally does all of those things and she is real.
She is here.
And maybe, right now, she can be her.
Just for a few minutes.

A group of girls push past her, giggling and shouting Over each other. They make it look so easy. Maybe life is simple if you're the same as everyone else. Maybe they don't have to plan everything in advance and figure out what they might say in reply to a hundred questions or what their face is supposed to look like when they feel excited or happy or surprised or scared. Maybe they never feel scared.

The words fizz their way up the stairs and push through the crack between the floor and Tally's bedroom door. She wants to ignore them because the book she's reading is actually really good and she only has a few pages to go before she reaches the end – but the words have other plans. They crackle and buzz above her head, just out of reach, and after a few moments, Tally puts her book down with a sigh and sits up. She'll never able to focus on the story while they're bothering her and there's no point in trying to pretend that they aren't there. Not while they re suggesting that she might want to listen to whať's being said, just in case.

Outside the bedroom window, the sky is growing dark. Unlike the first day of summer, the last day of the holidays is not crammed with potential. It does not taste of ice creams or smell of cut grass and sunshine. If the first day of summer is all about hope then the last day is filled with gloom. And it knows it. The rain lashes down against the glass and, if she peers hard enough through the eyeholes of the mask that she is wearing, she can see her own reflection gazing back at her, the raindrops on the outside of the window mimicking the tears that trickling silently down her cheeks.