The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

brought him something? Should I have brought him something? What did
ponies like?
The end of his nose felt soft and warm. I traced my hands up his head to
his ears, and the clump of long hair between them. I rubbed his neck, and he
sighed and leaned into me again. Then he took a step away and went back to
eating grass.
I sat down in the field and watched him. He ate as though eating was his
job in life, as though he was saying, “I’m not all that hungry, mate, but I’ve
got to keep on with it, see.” He flicked his tail back and forth, then took a
step, dragging himself to fresher grass.
I sat and watched him, and then I lay down—I was so stiff, and the warm
sun felt so nice—and watched him, and then I fell asleep. When I woke, Miss
Smith was standing over me.
“You’re sunburned,” she said. “You’ve stayed out too long.”
I sat up, stretching. Everything ached. The skin on my bare legs had turned
pink. It hurt, but I was used to things hurting.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked. She sounded cross.
I blinked. I was hungry. Crashingly, achingly hungry. I was used to that
too. What was I supposed to say? Did Miss Smith want me to be hungry, or
not?
“Why didn’t you wake me this morning?” she said.
I’d never wake her. I wasn’t stupid.
“Come.” She reached an arm toward me. “It’s gone late. I’ve got to get you
to the doctor, and we need to do some shopping.”
“I don’t need help,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, and hauled me up.
I tried to shake her off, but my foot ached so terribly that in the end I let
her help me back to the house. Jamie was already inside, sitting at the table
eating canned beans and toast. I slid into a chair in the kitchen. Miss Smith
thumped more beans onto a plate. “Your bandage is filthy already,” she said.
I took a deep breath. Before I could speak, Jamie said, “I told her she
wasn’t ’sposed to go outside.”
“Rubbish.” Miss Smith’s tone was sharp. “Of course she may go outside.
We just need a better system. Those shoes you were wearing yesterday—”
“Those were Mam’s,” I said.