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Gail hunkered down beside the slide and peeked out from behind her new white muff. January wind had whipped up fangs of snow on the vast, flat playground. She put her head down again.

She knew she was late. But so what: her slouching Brownie leotards chafed her thighs, her wrists were raw from rubbing against crusty sleeves. Jasper was milling around the third step of the community hall, sucking his mitts. An enormous green snot slid from his nose. There was no way she was going in there, with Jasper blocking the way.

She scrunched her eyes closed, listened to the wind whistling through the swing-set. The distant slither of passing cars. All the world slowed to the ping of a wire slapping against the flagpole.

Jasper cut in, sing-song. “You’re late for school, you’re late for school!”

Gail raised her head and sang back, “Not even going, not even going!” then tucked down again.

Footsteps crunched towards her. The teacher, who would drag her in by the hood. That would be something. Or Jasper with a big gross snot on his face.

The feet stopped. “What are you even doing?”

“I’m not going in, brainiac.”

“You’ll get in big trouble.”

“You have a big snot on your face.”

“Do not.”

Gail looked up. The snot was gone. She shrugged into her parka.

Jasper grabbed the slide rail and began swinging around. “I can climb up by the pole,” he said.

“Can not.”

Thus encouraged, he wrapped his snowsuited leg around the pole and began snaking upwards. Gail dug her boot heels into the crust and pushed back to watch. Her hood fell forward into her eyes. She wriggled out from under it.

Jasper was halfway up when his mitt began to inch off, exposing a damp palm. He tried to shake his hand back into place. His boot slipped and Jasper swung forward, smacking his face into the belly of the slide.

“See!" crowed Gail, watching him slump to the ground. Jasper's lip was split and blood dribbled onto the nylon fuzz of his hood. Gail flipped onto her knees and smacked him in the arm. “Don’t start blubbering either.”

Jasper wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. At the sight of the blood he flopped over, howling and prostrate. Gail rocked back onto her bum and shovelled snow into his face with her boots.

“I know how to make your lip stop bleeding.”

Jasper looked up. “How?”

“Put it on the flagpole. Then it’ll freeze.”

They sat staring at each other for a moment. Then Gail got to her feet. “I’m going in now.”

And strode across the playground, taking wide scissor steps to hike up her leotards, right on up the stairs and through the door. She slammed it hard behind her.

Inside, everybody was doing colouring.