She was different. That’s what everyone at school told her. You are a freak, Lily! But she knew she wasn’t. She knew herself better than those girls. But what about her sister? Her sister knew her, didn’t she? Then why did she call her a freak too? No. She was not a freak. She knew there were more like her. Or at least one more like her.
She had met him one sunny, warm day when she had produced a Lilly to show her sister. It seemed he had come out of a hollow in a tree. He had comforted her. ‘She’s just jealous because you’re special and she’s not’ he had said. She had told him, he mustn’t say so but somewhere she felt good. Happy, satisfied even. In her head, she had smiled. A small, shy smile. She was glad she had someone she could trust. Someone who would believe her.
She would never have guessed though, that he would always trust her, always believe her. Always.