Young Writers Society

(Oh no! Where's chapter fourteen? Back on the drawing board, it seems. It's not crucial to the plot yet, so I'm leaving it there for a while.)

(The story so far: Raising a kid is about more than just feeding it and putting it to bed. Leon, a boy who was enjoying is independant and orderly lifestyle before Henrietta (his five-year old cousin) came into his care. Until now he has raised Henri in an adults world, but now he has to go against his principles in order to teach her to survive among children.)

The spring holidays came around. Some friends hosted a small party for me in a local restaurant, and when Henri found out it was my birthday she insisted that we make a cake - and a whole lot of mess in the process.

My father sent me a cheque in a brown sealed envelope along with a letter that looked more like a redundancy notice. It was a reminder that even though I tried to ignore the fact, I had turned eighteen. When I left high school in four months the weekly allowance from him would finish. He had agreed many to pay my college tuition and let me stay in the apartment rent-free until I’m twenty one, but I needed a job if I was going to eat.

With the money from my father Henri and I went into town to go shopping. It was about time we went on a shopping trip, and with Henri's encouragement I was venturing beyond the normal habits of supermarkets and online clothes shops. That, and with a small child to care for, my budget was getting lower each day. We were just getting by, which meant that those occasional costs, like clothes and school fees, were slowly eating away at my savings.

It wasn’t until then that I started asking around to see what jobs were available. I guess I thought that I would just land on my feet.

Henri found joy in being able to stare into shop windows - that's a trait most girls have - even if she couldn't have any of it. We got ice-cream as a snack, and I picked up some pancakes that we could have for supper.

We also bumped into Karin. She and Tommie had been nattering away inconsistently about some imaginary quest or other.

‘We’re just out buying the Summer Uniform for Henri.’ I told her.

‘Ah, uniforms can get expensive. Can you manage?’

'Sure, I can manage. We're not struggling on funding.' Not yet, anyway.’

'Then we'll help you, won't we.' She said to Tommie, who didn't really seem to be paying attention.

We went first to a uniform shop. So far I was accustomed to buying my own school uniform directly from the school, so going into a place with uniforms of all different styles, colours and sizes, with different logos and stripes and purposes, baffled me. It seemed that despite how independent as I thought I was, I was quite clueless.

'First of all, you two have got to make a decision. If you’re going to restock on a full summer uniform each year you’d best have deep pockets.'

‘Do I have a choice?'

‘I usually buy Tommie a large sized cotton shirt to wear under his jumper and keep him warm in winter, when summer comes around he’ll have grown into it and can wear it instead of a summer shirt.' She laughed a little. ‘This isn’t making sense to you is it?’

It seemed that, like bathtimes, there was a very intricate art to this uniform thing. Like, having to buy two sizes too big. I knew that, it was a simple thing, but when Henri tried on the clothes and I saw just how much bigger two sizes was, I felt embarrassed for her when she struggled to find her fingers in an oversized jumper.

‘She’ll start infant school in September, so it would be a waste to stock up on clothes with her nursery logo on now.’

In the end Karin made most of the decisions for us, explaining everything to me as we went.

Shoes where a different matter all together. As a grown up male, you have formal shoes, sports trainers and normal trainers. As a small child, shoes get worn out very quickly, and there's a different pair for every purpose.

By the time Karin left us to run on another errand I was bored and stressed. We had the uniform sorted, I momentarily forgot my budget, and we went all our on accessories and decorations. We bought new hair bobbles and bands, scarves, beaded bracelets and necklaces (the elastic kind that are safer for kids,) and a few new outfits. By the time I was done, Henri would look like my kid. She would be neat, stylish, and not a ragged thing who turned up on my doorstep.

'She's a cute one, isn't she,' a girl behind the counter at a shop said. 'Is she your sister?'

'Cousin,' I said.

'That's nice. I've never seen anyone care for their cousin so much, even their sister, at that.'

'Yeh, I look after her you see.' She looked at me and batted her eyelids. I was busy watching Henri twinkling her fingers along some delicate silver necklaces. 'How much are they?'

'Most of them are between five and seven pounds. I wouldn't suggest it though, kids tend to get them caught, or break them easy.'

'Not for her. Henri, come here.' Henri came running back. She reminded me of a puppy sometimes, so eager to please. It was that waiting thing. She was always awaiting instruction. 'Since Karin has been so nice to us, I think we should buy her a gift. Why don't you go choose something that we can give to her.'

'Is Karin, your girlfriend?' I would say this girl right here fell into category one. Anybody who flirts on the job, or enquires such details from customers, has to fall into category one.

'She's the mother of her friend.' I gestured to Henri, who was now more carefully observing the charms on the end of the necklaces. 'She’s been helping us out today.'

'Oh I see, so are you single?'

It's a thing. That thing I do. I pulled out my card and looked at it.

'You interested?' She started to blush. 'I usually keep these for business meetings and things, but, if you want to give me a call.' I held it out. With downgazing eyes she took it and shoved it in her pocket, then pretended to busy herself with some sorting of some sort. 'Henri, have you found something?' She looked back, then came running to me with a silver necklace in her hands, cradling the butterfly pendant. 'That's beautiful. I think she'll like that. Don't tell her yet though, we can give it to her later.'

The shop girl smiled, ran it through the till, and I handed over a massive twenty two pounds for the things we'd bought. I think in total that day, between uniforms, spare clothes and accessories we must have spent at least one hundred and twenty pounds. It was a good day though, in the end.

We met back up with Karin by the park, where we sat down and talked while the kids disappeared to run riots on the play area.

'Did you get everything you came for?' She asked. I nodded. Our conversation drifted on to many things, and eventually came to the subject of Henri's fight.

'Tommie told me that Henri sometimes has trouble in school,' she said. 'She gets bullied.'

'I know,' I sighed. 'It must be hard for her, we've all been through it and know what it's like. I'm doing my best to support her.'

'You don't understand it, do you.' I looked at her in question. She was about to teach me a valuable lesson. 'Sending her to school in a patchwork uniform makes her stick out like a sore thumb. She’ll look better now that it all fits together. Her hair is a mess and never styled, her socks don’t match, she looks like she’s been left to piece herself together in the mornings, and that makes her look neglected. Kids notice things like that, even if they don’t understand them.'

Neglected? I hated that word.

‘Keep her up to date on some magazines or kids tv programs.’ She smiled a little. ‘She may be up to date on the latest soap operas, but she doesn’t know the first thing about the shows the other kids are talking about. It makes her feel left out.’

‘She said that?’

‘Not exactly. She gets along well with the kids who don’t talk much, because then she doesn’t have to struggle to figure out what’s going on. Kids will be kids, they all have their troubles. You can’t control other peoples children, but as her guardian you still have a duty to protect her - helping her fit in will stop her from becoming an easy target.’

That was it. It was my duty to protect her. There is an old belief that children are born colourblind, rhetorically. That they don't notice that one kid is black, and the other is white, unless we point it out. It's the same with clothes, and hair, and everything else. It's all wrong.

Kids do notice skin colour, hair colour, clothing style. They notice hygiene and speech pattern and all other things, and the more a child sticks out, the more reasons they have, the harder it is going to be.

As a teenager, standing out still meant a lot to me, so the idea of making Henri conform was one that I wanted to argue with. In the end though Kara was right. I wanted Henri to be her own person, but allowing her to be bullied and to become socially awkward would only make her struggle more than she already was.