He had to stoop, because Bobby was tall for his age, and so all she could see of him was his back, his school bag, and a tuft of his bright blonde hair. She could not see much of the man inside the van, because Bobby was in the way. But she had an idea of the size of him: he was so large, his shadow almost filled the entire front of the vehicle.

Before she could do anything, before she could call out, or catch up to them, the man gestured to Bobby, and opened the passenger side door.

Bobby threw a look at her over his shoulder, a strange, excited expression on his face. In the distance, Laura heard the school bus approach. She raised her hands, shrugging a question at him: What are you doing?

Uncertainty glimmered in his eyes. The man in the van gestured to him once more, flapping a huge hand around in a circular ‘hurry-up’ motion.

Bobby hesitated, and then did something that Laura would never understand.

He jogged around to the passenger side of the van.

And climbed in.

Laura shouted: ‘Bobby! What are you doing?!’

The door slammed shut, and Bobby kept his head turned from her, his hair curtaining down to shield her from his vision. A knife slid delicately into her heart as he shut her out, her best friend for years, her companion since babyhood, her new boyfriend of a day. Every morning for the rest of her life she would wake, and find that thin, stinging blade still there, lodged in her chest. If only she could pull it out. If only she could throw away the knife.

But Bobby sat there, in the van, staring at his knees, ignoring her, and Laura saw him mumbling, saw him issue an instruction to the man. Then, the stranger at the wheel of the blue ford transit put his foot down. The van squealed away, belching thick, black smoke from its exhaust. She didn’t think to look at the number plate, didn’t think to run after, and see where it went. She was a child, and in her world, these sorts of things didn’t happen.

The school bus arrived, came to a ponderous stop in the road beside her, hissing as the door opened on squeaky hinges. The driver shouted cheerily for her to get in.

The van disappeared from view. Laura was left behind.

And Bobby never came back.

5.

The torment of her ruined ankle was unbelievable. As soon as the stick was out of her flesh, she felt faint, and the forest spun around her head. Hot sweat rolled down her face, mingling with the rainwater. There was so much pain.

Pain is just an obstacle, she told herself eventually, through gritted teeth.

And obstacles are simply there to be overcome.

Jerkily, yanking her hand back repeatedly as the wound screamed at her, she poured cold, fresh water from her bottle over her ankle. She wondered briefly about taking off her boot first, but knew what would happen if she did: the foot would swell, and she’d never get it back on. The water rinsed away fresh gouts of blood and eventually, she could see a ragged, splinter-flecked wound. She picked out the splinters as best she could with uncooperative fingers, and then ran an antiseptic wipe across the whole mess, before placing a dressing over it and bandaging the area as tightly as she could without cutting off the circulation in her foot entire.