Bokelskere.no

Tally is not daft. She knows that when she opens a gift, the person giving the gift wants to see her looking happy or surprised or excited or amazed. And she understands why they want to see those things. After all, they've gone to all the effort of giving her something – so the least she can do is be grateful. And she is grateful. She really, truly is. It's just that, sometimes, she thinks that the whole present-giving thing is less to do with the person receiving the gift and more to do with the gift-giver. It's as if they think that along with the present, they've purchased the right to see her do things in a certain way.
Say the right things.
Make the right faces.
And Tally can do these things, but she needs a heads-up: a bit of advance warning about what emotion it is that she's supposed to be showing.

They want me to be like them – but I'm only like me.

On another day the hurt, upset feeling that is swirling through her would rage out through her hands and feet and mouth like a volcano, and Nell would be sorry that she'd said something so unkind. Today though, Tally hasn't got enough energy. She isn't a volcano today. Instead, she's the ground after an earthquake, all cracked and shaken.