No Small Victory by Connie Brummel Crook

platform of the school water pump. Tom was working the pump handle, and Slinky hung on to her arms so tightly she could not move.
    Maybe they were just going to make her drink some cold water. She stopped struggling and watched.
    Then, in a sudden movement, Slinky tipped her head under the spout and yelled, “Keep pumping, Tom! We’ll get rid of them darn germs!”
    Now, Bonnie squirmed desperately to be free. Then she heard something else. It was…it was cheering. All the kids were egging the bullies on! But why? Did they hate her? Did they think she was a show-off because she answered a Grade Five question in class? Or a snob because she wouldn’t play baseball?
    â€œHold ’er head under! Don’t want water all over that purty dress. McDougall would tan us for sure. But let me at that ugly mop of hair. Probably full of germs—and cooties!”
    Bonnie gasped for air, but Tom kept on pumping. The water got colder and colder. There was water in Bonnie’s eyes, her nose, her mouth, and her ears.
    She was sputtering and coughing, but the water kept coming.
    â€œSee, what did I tell ya? Consumption! Ain’t she fulla germs? Better wash ’er up some more!”
    â€œStop, you deadbeats!” cried Marianne. “Do you want to hang for murder? She could choke to death.”
    â€œWatch your language, Miss Prissy, or I’ll tell your Dad,” said Tom.
    â€œMr. McDougall will be back soon!” yelled Marianne.
    Finally, Tom stopped pumping and Slinky threw Bonnie on the grass. When she could open her eyes again, she saw a whole group of kids—maybe half the school—walking away with their backs turned.
    Only one person stood beside Bonnie.
    â€œHere,” said a voice. It was Marianne’s. She wiped Bonnie’s face with a white, lace-trimmed handkerchief. “I know a nice sunny stone behind the school. We can sit there till you dry out.”
    Blinking back her tears, Bonnie let Marianne lead her around to the other side of the school. In the distance she heard more sounds of cheering. It was the same kids, but they were playing baseball now.
    â€œYou just wait, Bonnie, till I tell Mr. McDougall,” said Marianne. “I bet he’ll keep them in after school for a month. You’ll see!”
    â€œOh, no! Marianne,” exclaimed Bonnie. “You can’t tell on them! It would only make matters worse. Anyway, I don’t want to be a tattletale!”
    â€œWell, you wouldn’t be if I tattle, and I won’t mind what they think.” Marianne was still very angry.
    Bonnie grabbed her friend’s hand and pleaded. “You can’t. Please, for me—don’t do it! Mum says I have to stand up for myself. You have to let it go, Marianne.”
    For a long minute, Marianne stared at Bonnie’s pleading eyes, and then she nodded.

    On the way home from school, Bonnie followed Archie along the path in the woods.
    â€œAll the kids at school hate me. You went home at noon. And Slinky and Tom drenched my head under the pump. The rest of the kids cheered—except for Marianne.”
    â€œI heard. Awful sorry, Bonnie. But you’re okay now, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œThey don’t hate you. It’s just that you’re the new kid. Look, I’m taking my lunch tomorrow. So you’ll be okay. Now, stop thinking about those boys. I want you to meet my crow.”
    â€œOh Archie, I don’t think—”
    â€œQuiet, Bonnie! You could scare the crow away!”
    â€œThen how do I tell you when I want to say something?”
    â€œThat’s what the aspen branches are for, remember? You tap me on the shoulder with a branch. When I turn around, you whisper what you want to say. Now, what did you want to say?”
    â€œOh, never mind,” said Bonnie. But after a while she tapped him with her branch.
    â€œYes?” Archie whispered.
    â€œAre you sure about