Mrs Duffield was the only one who still seemed to hate me. At Brownies,when she was being Brown Owl, she made me join in all the girliest gamesshe cou...d think of, and sing all the girliest songs, and I knew shewanted to make me feel silly and stupid. And in school she kept givingme cold school dinners covered with tomato ketchup or salad cream. Shealso kept asking me about what I was doing in ballet and ballroomdancing, so that the other boys and girls would laugh at me. Buteveryone had got. ‘Backfired on me big time, huh? There I was, trying to do the one thing that might just make them love me more—and I wound up making them hate me instead.’ ‘Nobody hates you.’ I could hear the thinly-veiled pain in his voice, his desire to reassure me. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Nobody blames you—’ ‘Oh come on, Drew.’ A bitter smile twisted my trembling lips. ‘Mum hates me, you know that. She wishes it’d been me that died, not her golden boy Paul.’ I’d been in my brother’s shadow my whole life. No. More

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