Katie was the downstairs neighbors daughter and a total nightmare for fifteen-year-old Oliver. That scrawny, dark-eyed little girl was constantly dumped on them in the evenings.
Auntie Grace was raising her alone, barely scraping byworking shifts as a carer, dashing off to give pension their injections, grabbing any chance to earn extra cash. She even tried to sort her love life, but no luck. One decent bloke turned out to be married.
The neighbor would always appear out of nowhere on their doorstep, avoiding eye contact, whispering urgently, “Victoria, just for an hour or two, I owe you oneits so late, how can I leave her alone?” Katie would stand there, pouting, head hanging low.
Mum would sigh but eventually take her in so the girl wouldnt have to sit in the dark, empty flat. Dad, of course, would grumble about it later.
The real punishment fell on Oliver, though, because *he* got stuck entertaining the uninvited guest with “whatever cartoons are on.” Katie would curl up in the corner of the sofa, watching not-exactly-child-friendly action films in silence, hands planted on her kneeswhich only annoyed him more.
Once a week, Auntie Grace would shove a crumpled fiver into his hand and beg him to at least walk the little first-grader to the corner since they were heading to the same school anyway.
That day, Katie was shining like a polished teapot, even managing a few words on the walk: she said they had a special event today, and shed be reciting *Snowflakes*. Oliver smirkedin that ridiculous bobble hat, the silly girl looked more like a space germ than a snowflake.
After first period, kids swarmed the canteen for break. Ollie was about to grab his usual cheese sandwich whenfor some stupid reasonhe turned around.
The little ones in their corner were buzzing more than usual. A crowd had gathered around Katie in her fancy dress. Some were laughing, pointing; others were offering tissues. Ollie edged closer. It was a disasterher whole outfit was drenched in strawberry yoghurt.
Terror had frozen her in place. She was crying silently.
Out of nowhere, an overexcited Jack came barrelling up: “Ollie, come on! Ellas sorting out the party” His voice sounded miles away. “She specifically asked for *you*! Now or never!”
Ella Just chatting with her was every lads dream. And now she wanted him there? He took a step toward the door. Not his problem, really. Let them call Auntie Grace, sort the dress, whatever.
Deep down, Oliver knewno one would bother with Katie. Shed be shoved into a corner, forgotten. And shed just shrink into herself again, invisible, silentused to it by now.
He sighed, just like Mum always did, and walked over.
“Miss Thompson, whens the assembly?”
“Oh, Oliver, in an hour and a half. Look at thisI trusted her with a poem, and now Hows she supposed to go on like this?”
Katie was trembling. Covered in stains, pale as if shed been sick. Oliver yanked the empty cup from her grip.
“Ill take her home, maybe she can change.”
“Oliver, youre a lifesavergo, Ill sort it with Mrs. Carter.”
Turns out, there *was* no other fancy dress. Oliver muttered every swear word he knew as he scrubbed the stains, blasted it dry with the hairdryer, ironed the pink frills back into shape. Skinny Katie, just in her vest and tights, fluttered around him. They sprinted back, his hand tight around her tiny, mitten-clad one.
He never did chat with Ella that day. Skipped class, evenwent to the little kids assembly instead.
Katie rattled off her poem like a pro. And as their class filed past, she suddenly broke rank, flung herself at him, and blurted:
“Ollie, if it wasnt for you, Id have died today *Proper* died.”
Silly girl.
