Corey Mulligan, The Heart Thief - A Short Story

I

"Corey give it back! Corey..."

A girl, maybe no older than five, jumps as high as she can to reach her bag from the tall arms of a boy who looks only a little older than her. Where her hair is long and straight, cut into a sharp block fringe, and tied tightly into two long plaits, his hair is short and blond and wavy, and sits perfectly over his head.

His eyes are cool, grey stone. Hers are vivid and cobalt blue, filling with tears as the rucksack her parents saved up to buy her is tossed carelessly above her head. The stitching around some hems is coming loose, after almost a year of use.

"Only if you can reach it you sissy!"

The boy is wearing an expensive coat, its hood rimmed with fur, and its inside lined with fleece. And yet he is still shivering. The girl is cold too, but she's always cold- Mum almost never puts on the heating to save on gas bills. That doesn't stop her, with her thin blue raincoat, from being jealous of Corey Mulligan's cosy jacket- she'd do anything to be able to have one.

But that meant less to her than getting her bag back. Mum would be so upset. But she was too short to reach- Corey was tall and strong, despite being not too much older than her, whereas she was short and skinny.

"Corey! I-I... please?"

The older boys laughs in her face, but on seeing a teacher approaching, chucks the bag onto the ground, where it lands with a thud.

"You're such a baby, Madison."