Jelly

Sparkly got a new scooter.

It was shiny. It was red. It had a bell that went pring.

Jelly looked at it, and something went a bit green and gluey in Jelly's middle.

"It's nice," said Jelly, in a voice like a flat balloon. "I mean. It's alright. My old one goes just as fast, probably."

It did not go just as fast. Everybody knew it did not go just as fast.

All afternoon, Jelly watched the scooter. Jelly watched Sparkly ring the bell. Jelly watched everyone say ooh. And the green gluey feeling got bigger and stickier until Jelly said a horrible thing, out loud, that Jelly did not even really mean.

"It's a show-off scooter."

Sparkly's face fell. Sparkly went inside.

Jelly sat down in the grass feeling wretched, which is what always happens after you say the horrible thing.

Gladly sat down too.

"Three good things," said Gladly. "Go on. Things you already have."

"I don't want three good things. I want the scooter."

"I know," said Gladly. "Three anyway."

Jelly huffed. "My bike. That's one."

"Good."

"The tree with the swing in it. That's two."

"And three?"

Jelly went quiet for a long moment.

"Sparkly," said Jelly. "Sparkly is three. Sparkly always lets me have a go on everything."

And there it was, the thing underneath: Jelly did not actually want a red scooter. Jelly wanted to be sure of being included.

Jelly got up and went to find Sparkly.

"I said a horrible thing. I'm sorry. I was jealous."

Sparkly, who is braver than she looks, said, "You could have just asked for a turn."

So Jelly did.

The bell went pring all the way down the hill and back, and Jelly cheered so loudly for Sparkly's go that Sparkly went pink.