rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge glass. “What’re you looking at?” said William. Margot said nothing. “Speak when you’re spoken to.” He gave her a shove .
But she did not move; rather she let herself be moved only by him and nothing else. They edged away from her, they would not look at her. She felt them go away. And this was because she would play no games with them in the echoing tunnels of the underground city.
If they tagged her and ran, she stood blinking after them and did not follow. When the class sang songs about happiness and life and games her lips barely moved. Only when they sang about the sun and the summer did her lips move as she watched the drenched windows. And then, of course, the biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago from Earth,and she remembered the sun and the way the sun was and the sky was when she was four in Ohio .
And they, they had been on Venus all their lives, and they had been only two years old when last the sun came out and had long since forgotten the colur and heat of it and the way it really was. But Margot remembered. “It’s like a penny,” she said once, eyes closed. “No it’s not!” the children cried.
“It’s like a fire,” she said, “in the stove.” “You’re lying, you don’t remember !” cried the children. But she remembered and stood quietly apart from all of them and watched the patterning windows. And once, a month ago, she had refused to shower in the school shower rooms, had clutched her hands to her ears and over her head, screaming the water mustn’t touch her head. So after that, dimly, dimly, she sensed it, she was different and they knew her difference and kept away.
There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to Earth next year; it seemed vital to her that they do so,though it would mean the loss of