THE GLUCOSE

That September, a small incident happened that I didn’t think much of at the time, but looking back now, I understand it was the first sign.

A Year Seven student named Poppy had asthma and always carried her inhaler with her during swim lessons — an area where students weren’t allowed to bring personal items poolside, to avoid losing them.

Rosalind, the swim team captain at the time, confiscated Poppy’s inhaler right in front of the whole team, saying, “Rules are rules, there can’t be exceptions, otherwise the other girls will feel it’s unfair.”

Poppy cried but didn’t dare argue, quietly leaving the inhaler in her locker as instructed.

Fortunately, nothing happened that day.

But I’ve never forgotten what Rosalind said to her close friends afterwards, when she thought no one else could hear: “That girl acts like she’s so special, everyone’s got some health issue or other, if everyone demanded exceptions there’d be no discipline left at this school at all.”

I told Amelia about it, and she just frowned.

“That’s a bit unsettling. Be careful with your glucose tube.”

At the time I only laughed, thinking I was different from Poppy — I had Dr. Hartley’s written confirmation, Miss Whitfield’s personal consent, this couldn’t happen to me.

I was wrong.

In Miss Whitfield’s office drawer, the note confirming my condition was clipped to the list of students exempt from certain strenuous exercises, sitting right next to the attendance register that any student on duty could see when carrying it up to the teacher’s desk.

I didn’t know that one Friday afternoon, it was Rosalind whom Miss Whitfield asked to carry the register up to the office.

And she read my name in it.