Peony

I stop running and giggle when I catch sight of Zie chasing me with a trouser tent.

“What?” He demands when I can’t stop laughing. Instead I point.

“Oh. Yeah.” He blushes and tries to look carefree, but I can tell he’s embarrassed. “It just happens.”

“Can’t you control it?” I wrinkle up my nose in distaste.

“No.” Oh. I’m sure if I had one I would be able to control it.

“Maybe you just need to practise,” I suggest. Then curiosity gets the better of me. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes,” he admits. I pull a face. Yuk that sucks. “But sometimes it feels good too.”

I really can’t imagine it feeling good.

“I think girls are better than boys,” I decide. We’ve argued over this for years. “I know you can pee standing up, and no matter how much you try to teach me I just can’t get the hang of it, but at least I don’t have to deal with that.” I wave my hand in the vague direction of his trousers and laugh.

“Well, I’d rather have an uncontrollable sword than something that looks like a cat that”s had its throat slit!”

“How would you know what that looks like?” I demand hotly.

“I saw it once.”

“What? When? Whose cat was it?”

“Old Mrs Creely’s.”

“How d’you know it wasn’t just run over?”

“I saw the people kill it with a knife.”

“Who?” My eyes are saucers.

“You don’t want to know.”

Oh, but I do.