And there are more where they came from. A girl with dark eyes and long brown curls steps up with an abacus tattooed on her shift. A dark-haired boy with a gold star near his chest stands near her with another dark-haired girl in an air hostess cap, while a little blond girl in a blue sailing uniform sits and grins brightly at Pond’s feet, a miniature spyglass in her hand. Two boys with curly hair join her, one in a long striped scarf, the other in a dark coat of green velvet. Next, a girl with a brown flip and a pencil on her ear, holding hands with a gap-toothed blonde. A boy in a rainbow coat with unruly mopsy curls of gold. Another boy with a black bowl cut, clutching a recorder. Yet another male child, with shoulder-length white locks over an old black coroner’s coat, leans on a wall beside a close-shaven boy in a dark grey jumper and another boy wearing dark curls beneath a fetching panama.
More tiny footsteps follow; however…
There is one boy, just standing there, his soft brown hair sticking up and down and everywhere else with little care to the fox-shaped paste-colored clay mask obscuring his face.
“So he does,” Benjamin Pond says softly. Then he reaches out for the boy in the clay kitsune mask, smiling down at him.
“Liar!” cries the boy, falling back from Benjamin’s hand in a heap.
But another boy catches him, a tall boy with spiky brown hair and glasses and freckles.
“Yep and Nope.” spiky-hair says, popping the p. “It’s wake-y up time, sleepy head!”