Liz is four years old.
She holds her mother's hand tightly as she stands outside the gates of the happy, welcoming-looking building for her first day of kindergarten. She's trembling with excitement; the kind that only four-year-olds can possess. Her excitement is partly nervousness at being separated from her mother, but she is also looking forward to this day.
She will meet new kids. Interesting kids, friendly kids. Kids who could become her friends.
But Liz is shy. What if she says the wrong thing? What if they don't like her? What if she's not interesting enough for them? Worries flicker through her mind and she ends up hovering on the outskirts, watching all of the other children and wanting to join in, but not really knowing how. The others already have their own groups and friendships, and she can't see any gaps where a Liz-shaped friend can fit in. The only space she finds is on the swing alone, with no one else to push her.
She misses her mother, and she can feel herself about to cry.
The tears never have the chance to spill, because Liz's attention is suddenly pulled to another girl on the other side of the playground. She's perched primly on a bench next to the sandpit, smoothing down the creases in her blue dress with white lace trimmings. The dress is lovelier than any clothing Liz has ever worn, and the lace makes her think of the big box of scrap material her mother has at home. For a glorious moment Liz imagines how with that lace she could make herself a dress like that.
Maybe she could talk to the girl, Liz wonders. But the moment she thinks it, she shrinks back. The girl is alone, but she looks wholly uninterested in the other children around. She looks untouchable, her blue dress with the white lace trimmings separating her from all of the other children. And from Liz.
The other kids mustn't have realised that the blue dress was untouchable, though. Three rowdy boys, playing an enthusiastic game of cops and robbers, tumble into the sandpit. They knock over another child's forgotten bucket of water, turning the sand to mud. The girl starts to inch away, sending anxious looks towards the dirty boys.
She moves too late. With an almightily crash the sand flies up into the air, showering down all around the sandpit – and all over the beautiful blue dress with the white lace trimmings. The dry sand settles down like dust and the wet sand sticks to it in big ugly brown clumps.
For a moment there is silence, and then the girl begins to cry.
Gasping in horror, Liz's heart instantly goes out to the girl. How awful it has to be for her, to have her lovely dress messed up like that! And before Liz can even remember that she is meant to be shy, she is jumping off of the swing and striding over to the girl. "There, there," she says, patting her on the shoulder. Then the strangest thing happens – she finds herself turning to the boys and addressing them crossly. "You should be more careful, you know! Look what you did!"
The boys slink off, guilty. The girl in the blue dress tries to send them a cross look, but tears still run down her face and she's much too upset to give them a proper glare. "It's all ruined," she wails.
"Oh no, it's too nice to be ruined!" Liz says. She starts to dust off the dress with her hands, trying to get rid of all of the sand. It sticks to her hands instead, but Liz finds she doesn't mind at all, because all of the dirt is coming away and leaving the dress beautiful again, and the girl's sobs die away. "There we go – all better!"
"Thank you," the girl hiccups.
"I'm Liz," says Liz.
"I'm Richelle," says the girl, a smile emerging from underneath her tears.
"Let's be friends," Liz says quickly. Maybe even a little bit desperately. She so wants to have a friend all her own. This girl with the pretty dress – she needs looking after. And after all of this, Liz finds that she also really wants to have someone to look after.
Richelle pauses to think on this for a moment. "Okay," she says. And in the way of children, that was that.