|Sandra and Violet are whispering.|
But anyway I don't like girls. They whisper, and they don't like football.
I am eight years old, and girls are horrible.
She skips across the room to where I am sitting, struggling to make sense of some long words in my book, "you and me is on counterpanes," she says, giggling.
Oh no! I hate folding counterpanes, especially with a girl. They always have to get things neat and tidy. It takes ages.
Every night before bedtime the counterpanes have to be taken off the beds and folded up. Tonight it is me and Sandra's turn to do it. Boring. I would much rather be reading my book.
There are two dormitories upstairs. Six beds in each one. We start in the girls dormitory.
"Do you want to have a do?" asks Sandra.
"A do. Do you want a do? Don't you know what a do is?" She sounds a bit puzzled.
She lies down on the bed and pulls her knickers down to her knees. "come and have a look," she invites, pulling her dress up.
I am horrified, "Sandra," I say in a worried voice, "You're not allowed to have your shoes on the bed."
"Come and look at it," she says again. She doesn't seem to care about having her shoes on. But if Auntie May, the housemother finds out, she would get in real trouble. "Do you want to have a look or not?"
Reluctantly I take a look, but I can't see anything. She doesn't even have a willy.
"Let me see yours now," she says, pulling her knickers up.
"Come on, fairs fair. I showed you mine."
"You ain't even got one," I protested.
"Just let me have a quick look. Please. I won't tell, honest."
I give in and drop my trousers. She looks at it for a long time, before suddenly saying, "come on, we better get these counterpanes folded."
Later downstairs, I am trying to read my book. I notice that Sandra and Violet are looking at me and whispering again.
Violet comes over. "You and me is on counterpanes tomorrow," she says giggling.
Oh no! I hate girls.