A random piece of teenage fiction

[igenlode]

I found this in the back of my A-Level Physics folder. I have absolutely no idea why it was there...
I think I was making it up as I went along, since I don't recognise the context at all. It doesn't seem to belong to anything else I was reading or writing at the time.
Another reason to suspect that this was stream-of-consciousness stuff is that, compared to my modern-day work, it's very noticeable that this page contains no erasures or edits whatsoever (save for 'the stub' altered to 'the remaining stub' at the time of writing, e.g. immediately following the crossed-out word).

The kitten scampered a few paces, pounced, bounded away stiff-legged, and pounced again. Helen crouched on the dusty flagstones of the terrace, feverishly trying to sketch the little creature with the stick of charcoal in her hand. She began outline after outline, abandoning each after a few seconds until the stones around her were filled with sketches, smudged where she had leaned on them or scrubbed them out, or, once or twice, by the kitten herself. The kitten would not stay still, and so the game went on, until even the kitten began to look tired, and Helen was laughing in frustration, hot and sweating in the mid-day sun. Her face was smudged with charcoal dust where she had pushed the hair back, and there was a stray smudge on the nape of her neck. Stretching, she threw down the remaining stub of the charcoal and regarded the kitten balefully. It had found a butterfly and was half-heartedly dancing after it on its hind legs, making ridiculous little swipes with stiff front paws.

"Helen!" Her mother had come out onto the terrace, her blue robe bleached by the sunlight. "Helen, it's time you came in and spent some time with Mika."

The kitten had stopped its play at the first call, staring alertly towards the open door. Now she turned and bounded in to the cool darkness beyond.

"Look, Mother!" Helen laughed. "Rufy thinks she's being called in for a treat!"

Her mother had laughed as well, but she was still waiting. After a few moments Helen got up and reluctantly went to follow her back indoors. Within the thick stone walls it was cool and welcoming, after the heat of the terrace, but Helen was resentful.

"I don't suppose Mika wants to talk to me any more than I want to talk to her," she complained. "Just because she's a refugee it doesn't mean that she wants to be suffocated with attention all the time. Anyway, she won't talk to me, she never says anything."

"Helen, she's supposed to be learning to speak our language," her mother pointed out for the hundredth time. "Naturally she can't speak very well, but if you two could get to know each other a bit better she might not be so shy about making mistakes. How is she ever going to learn by wandering around on her own, too scared to talk to anybody?"

(No, I have absolutely no idea where this was going, and probably didn't at the time of writing!)