She was a quiet girl. After a time, people had stopped noticing her. On visiting days, the ladies seemed to look right through her at the hideous curlicue patterns of her mother's new dining-room wallpaper. Oh, how she hated that mustard velvet wallpaper her mother seemed so proud of!
When the ladies came for tea, she could stay or she could go. It didn't matter. No one took note of her, asked after her, her life. Maybe they thought she didn't have one. And what if they were right.
She was the good daughter, helped her mother with the cooking and the wash, put the little ones to bed at night. So, she went about thinking it was good, her life. But since she'd turned twelve last month, she'd allowed herself to wonder if life hadn't maybe just hung her out to dry, much like her father did the deer in the Fall.