Inside Out: A Pagan Tale for the Child Within. Heather Brunton

      Maisey rubbed sleep from her eyes. Too early, she thought. I haven’t been up this early on a Saturday in…? Well, she knew it had been quite a while.

      The marathon was set to go. She glanced at the other walkers. Only a dozen of her own age. Some of them she recognised from the youth group she used to go to. Nerds, is what she really thought about them. Hell, what am I doing here? I can still drop out and no one will even notice.

      Mr. Morton’s voice rang out and the crowd fell silent.

      ‘I guess most of you know the rules but for those of you who don’t, it’s a lap of the park to make a kilometre and each time you complete one I’ll be here to mark and sign your card. The goal is sixteen laps but for you little ones, just do your best.’ He paused.

      I can still sneak off, thought the girl.

      ‘Good luck!’

      Her thoughts were interrupted by the starter’s pistol. Too late. The walkers were off and not to be left behind Maisey hurried into their midst. Oh well, I’ll do a few laps and go, she thought grudgingly as she found her pace.

       How the hell did I let old Morton talk me into this? I should be warm in bed now. Jeez it must be only just past nine, if that.

      She was carried along in the mass of walkers for half a lap until natural selection placed adults ahead, kids behind and she found herself amid thirty or so teenagers.

      ‘How are you?’ The voice cut into her thoughts.

      Maisey recognised Michael from youth group. His happy, smiling face seemed to add to her already irritable mood.

      ‘Ok!’ she snapped.

      She felt tempted to ask how he was but caught herself. It was enough if her friends saw her talking to him, without her making conversation. Her abruptness told him to butt out and he smiled, picked up his pace and joined the group ahead.

      Nerds of a feather, she thought.

      With one lap nearly complete and the refreshment trailer in sight, she pushed ahead of the nerds to snatch a drink, then over to old Morton. His lanky frame was waiting and she handed him the sponsorship card.

      ‘One down. Good on ya girl.’ He ignored her solemn face. ‘It’s a beaut day isn’t it? Gee you’ve gotten a few sponsors here. How did you con old Wright into signing his money away?’

      She never answered but just grabbed her card and set off again around the park.

      Why can’t old Morton mind his own business? He’s always prying. Maisey felt strange; she remembered all the kindness he’d shown her before and even after she’d gotten in trouble with the law. She quickly shrugged that thought away. Na. He doesn’t care. Just being nosey. Resentment rose like bile. What does he know? His life’s a breeze. How could he know how it feels to be me and have to take over all the work; the shopping, even the bill paying? Shit! She wished her mother hadn’t gotten ill. It was because of that she’d stopped going to youth group. But the lie of that left the girl uneasy. No, she decided. It was just that she had grown up and they were all babies there. Ha! I barely remembered they existed until now. Thank god I’m away from them. Besides, she’d met a new crowd. They’re exciting. I can really be myself.

      Looking at the sponsor card, she laughed. Old Wright was her biggest sponsor at a dollar a lap and if Morton thought it was because he saw something in her, he was wrong. Whether she was meant to overhear him or not she was unsure but his opinion of her had been clear. She’d stood at the door while Mrs. Wright took her sponsorship card inside.

      ‘Give her a dollar a kilometre. At best the lazy goodfornuthin will cost me a couple of dollars.’

      His laughter had echoed through the house as Mrs. Wright had returned to the door red faced.

      She was surprised to see that she had completed another lap. Grabbing an ice-cream she handed her card to Mr. Morton for him to sign.

      ‘Good pace lass.’

      ‘Yeah...’

      ‘I hear your mum’s out of hospital.’

      ‘Yeah.’ A lump rose in her throat but she pushed it down and grabbed the card.

      ‘Say hi to her for me,’ Mr. Morton called. But she never turned.

      Ha! Mum’s unlikely to remember who Morton is. Ever since she’d started having fits she’d been like a child. Hell, half the time she doesn’t know who I am. Tears spilled down her cheeks, the saltiness wetting her lips and mingling with the ice-cream. Get real, she chided herself. This would be the last lap. She’d already exceeded old Wright’s wildest expectations besides, her mates would be up by now. The streets that lined the park were their territory. If they saw her, they’d rag her forever. The football club can whistle Dixie if they want more effort from me.

      They’d barely miss the dollars from the lost laps. She could see that most of the younger kids had already dropped out and the nerds were