**The Silly Girl.**
Emily was the downstairs neighbours daughter and a total nuisance to fifteen-year-old Oliver. That scrawny, dark-eyed little girl was often dumped on them in the evenings.
Auntie Helen raised her alone, barely making ends meet. She worked shifts as a care assistant, rushed around giving injections to pensioners, and grabbed at any chance to earn extra cash. She even tried to find lovebut no luck. There was one decent bloketurned out he was married.
The neighbour always appeared on their doorstep without warning, avoiding eye contact, whispering urgently: *»Maggie, just for a couple of hoursI owe you one. Its so late, how can I leave her alone?»* Emily stood beside her, sulking, head bowed in misery.
Mum would sigh but always ended up taking the girl in so she wouldnt sit in the dark, empty flat. Dad, of course, grumbled about it later.
The price of Mums kindness fell on Oliver, who was stuck babysitting the uninvited guest while she watched *»some cartoons.»* Emily would huddle in the corner of the sofa, silently enduring whatever violent action film was on, hands glued to her kneeswhich only irritated him more.
Once a week, Auntie Helen shoved a crumpled tenner into his hand and begged him to at least walk her newly minted first-grader to the cornerthey were going to the same school anyway.
That day, Emily was shining like a polished teapot, even managing a few words on the way: she said they had a special assembly, and she was going to recite *Snowflakes.* Oliver smirkedin that ridiculous bobble hat, the silly girl looked more like a space germ.
After first period, crowds of kids streamed into the canteen for breakfast. Oliver grabbed his usual cheese sandwich. Then, for some stupid reason, he turned around.
The little ones were unusually rowdy in their corner. A group had surrounded Emily in her fancy dress. Some were laughing and pointing, others trying to pass her a tissue. Oliver edged closer. It couldnt be worseher whole outfit was drenched in strawberry milkshake.
She stood frozen, trembling, crying silently.
Out of nowhere, an excited Jake bounded over.
*»Oi, Ollie, hurry! Laurens sorting the party»* His voice sounded distant. *»Come on, she actually asked for you! Itll be too late otherwise!»*
Lauren Just talking to her was every lads dream. And now she wanted him there? He took a step toward the door. Not his problem, after all. Let them call Auntie Helen, let them clean the dresswhatever.
Deep down, Oliver knew no one would bother with Emily. Shed be shoved into a corner and forgotten. And shed just shrink into herselfunseen, unheard, like always.
He sighed, just like Mum did, and walked over.
*»Miss Thompson, whens your assembly?»*
*»Oh, Oliver, in an hour and a half. Look at herI gave her a part, trusted her, and now this How can she go on like this?»*
Emily was shaking, covered in stains, pale as if she might be sick. Oliver yanked the empty cup from her grip.
*»Ill take her homemaybe she can change.»*
*»Oliver, love, Ill be forever grateful. Go on, Ill sort it with Mrs. Carter.»*
Turns out, there was no spare fancy dress. Oliver muttered every swear word he knew as he scrubbed the stains, blasted it dry with a hairdryer, and ironed the pink frills. Skinny Emily, in just a T-shirt and tights, hovered nervously. They sprinted back, his hand tightly gripping her mittened one.
He never did talk to Lauren that dayor even go to lessons. Instead, he went to the Year One assembly.
Emily rattled off her poem perfectly. As her class filed past, she suddenly broke rank, flung herself at him, and blurted:
*»Ollie, if it wasnt for you, Id have died today For real.»*
Silly girl.
