I’m glad she is free to play
and dress however she feels happy.
Mum takes me and Anna to Brighton Beach.
Anna brings my yellow bucket and spade,
which she insists on holding for the whole
train journey. I already know—and Mum
explained—that the beach has pebbles and
rocks, not sand.
Walking from the station toward the beach,
I dread Anna’s disappointment,
but when we get there she takes my hand
and lets go of Mum.
“Stay where I can see you two,” Mum shouts
after us as Anna leads me to the water’s edge.
She kneels down and piles pebbles in
the bucket. “Sandcastle,” she says, beaming.
“Sandcastle.”
I sit on the bench under the tree
playing cat’s cradle with Emily,
when Laura and Amber come over.
“Michael!” “Please sing!”
“Come on, Michael.” “Pretty please, sing us
a pop song!”
“I don’t want to be a show-off,” I protest.
I prefer musicals anyway.
“Of course you do,” says Emily.
“Why else do you have singing lessons?”
There is one pop song I love
right now: “Lady Marmalade.”
I sing the verses by Christina Aguilera,
