Free Prairie Ostrich by Tamai Kobayashi

about how to avoid Martin Fisken and his gang but the voice from the radio catches her — a voice that sings and soars and Egg must listen. She holds the notes like a flutter in her chest, a sudden fullness that she can barely contain; she feels prickles behind her ears, a chill on the back of her neck. The song rises and falls like a wind that cradles and caresses. She thinks of mermaids singing, of whales calling in the deep, even the ostriches wooh-wooh-wooohhh .
    A song to wash out all the bad in the world.
    A song to make it all better.
    Egg pushes the book cart aside and peers out between the gap in the book stand. Behind the counter, Evangeline Granger is frozen, her cheeks blanching, like a watercolour left out in the rain. Egg’s throat clutches as she watches Evangeline’s tears. She knows she should not be a witness to this but she must do something. The song, so like a spell, has cast Evangeline into her private sorrow. Egg must free Evangeline, so much like a fairy tale princess. Evangeline, who gives her lollipops on bad days.
    Egg thinks of Mama’s mints that she has borrowed. She has stowed them carefully in her coat pocket. That is something, a small comfort she can give. A thunderbolt hits her — it’s a chance for her to be a Hero! Without a second thought, she dashes towards her classroom.
    Egg pokes her head through the doorway. Her classroom is empty. It seems smaller with everyone gone. She spies her coat hanging on the hook at the back of the class and runs to it. Her fingers scrabble for the mints at the bottom of her inside pocket. She clutches them in her palm, the white powder floating in the air, that smell of freshness, of green.
    Yes, this is perfect.
    A hand grabs hold of her throat and she is thrown against the wall. The mints tumble from her hand.
    Egg can hear the crunch of the candy beneath Martin Fisken’s feet. Behind him, Chuckie and Brendan sneer.
    â€œWait,” Egg shouts, and roots in her pocket. She pulls out Albert’s silver dollar and holds it out to Martin so that it catches the light. Her plan. She feels her heels touch the floor as he takes the coin and releases her.
    â€œWow,” Chuckie says, “that’s a real silver dollar.”
    Martin slides it into his pocket. Egg’s shoulders fall with relief. But Martin’s hand smashes into her chest. The silver dollar — there is not even time enough for unfair — the wind is knocked out of her.
    Martin smiles. Egg can see his tooth, the pointed one as he grins tightly, like a fox, like a devil.
    â€¦
    Egg is cold. She is wet. She is blind.
    She doesn’t like these things. She can’t get out. It’s dark and it’s like forever.
    â€¦
    After an eternity, the locker opens and Kathy is there. The light is such a relief, as Kathy rubs the warmth back into Egg’s shaking arms. Kathy wraps up Egg’s bleeding knuckles with her handkerchief. Kathy’s look, so full of pity, so full of rage but Egg can still hear the silent admonishment, something like Oh, Egg . . .
    â€œI’m sorry Kathy.”
    Couldn’t you fit in for once in your life?
    Kathy wraps her jacket around Egg and holds her. “It’s all right, sweetie.” But her gentleness is too much, all of Egg’s fear, locked and twisted in the dark, releases in a sob as Kathy holds her, rocking, just holds her.
    â€¦
    Boom, swoosh, boom. Egg must run to keep up with Kathy’s stride, as they cross the schoolyard. Kathy seems like a force of nature, a whirlwind of energy. Egg can’t keep her eyes off her, the muscle twitching in her jaw, the scanning gaze, that dagger focus. She thinks Kathy needs a thunderbolt, or wings that can span her fury. By the jungle gym Kathy swoops in, three quick strides and she has Martin Fisken by the collar, his feet barely touching the ground.
    Kathy’s voice is low and steady. “Now what did I say about staying away from my little