Easter Egghead"The eggs that we've painted yesterday are all hidden outside," Ms. Caine told the homeroom class. The woman was standing in front of the black chalkboard, on which read, "Happy Easter!!" in big, white letters. Her auburn hair was wrapped into a bun. A red shirt was tucked into her cream-colored pants, which matched her shoes. "Thank you, Richard," she said, collecting the Easter-themed word search from her student, who sat back down without a word.
A chubby kid, Richard was a 12-year-old with a pale complexion. A round pair of glasses sat on the tip of his small nose, in front of green eyes. He wore a navy blue shirt, which had maroon and dark green horizontal stripes, and was tucked into blue sweatpants. Black shoes stood together under his desk.
Something hit Richard hard in the back of the head. Rubbing the spot and looking down, he saw a crumpled piece of paper on the green-tiled floor, near the metal leg of his blue chair. As usual, he decided to ignore the quiet laughing coming from behind him.
"That Richard is such a nerd," one blond boy whispered to a dark-haired boy. He was wearing a blue shirt with long sleeves that was tucked into blue jeans. White sneakers were on his feet. "Always the first one to finish something."
The other boy snickered into his hands. He was wearing a black denim jacket over a white T-shirt. Black jeans covered his legs and touched his black and white sneakers. "And a teacher's pet," he commented with a Spanish accent.
"Hey, ever noticed Richard's stomach looks like a egg?"
"I know, right. We should paint him for Easter."
Suppressed giggles came from the two of them, as well as a few kids who were nearby.
Metal desks with wooden tops formed four vertical lines. Out of 24 blue, plastic chairs, 19 were occupied. Richard was sitting in the third seat of the first row. The other two boys were two lines behind him, in the first and second seats from the left window.
"I don't have a basket for everyone, so you'll have to split up into teams," Ms. Caine announced. "There are ten baskets here," she pointed at the green baskets that were on her gray desk. "Can anyone guess how many students can be in each team?"
Richard looked to his left and pointed at every student he saw, counting under his breath. Then he did the same to the kids behind him and on his right side. After thinking it over, he raised his hand.
"Richard?"
"2, R1," answered Richard.
"That's right."
"*cough*geek*cough*" someone muttered from behind.
"Since there are nineteen students here today, and I have ten baskets, there will be nine groups of students, and the remainder will have to pair up with me to make ten groups. I'll give you a moment to pick out your partners."
The classroom soon filled with childish chatter. Students arose to discuss grouping with their friends.
Richard stood up and looked around. Noticing a lone blond girl, he made way for the leftmost desk of the second row.
Before he could talk to her, a dark-skinned girl tapped her shoulder and said something to her.
Shrugging, Richard turned his head and focused on a chubby, dark-skinned boy who was standing near a desk in the center of the room.
His trip was cut short when the boy walked over to a darker-skinned boy with an orange shirt.
Richard searched with his eyes for another partner. He soon locked eyes with a brown-eyed boy.
The brown-haired boy shifted his eyes and looked at a redheaded girl. Taking a final gaze at Richard, he left his seat.
With a sigh, Richard sat down.
In most classes, Richard would often be the last to be picked. Today seemed to be no different. He couldn't understand it. He was well-mannered, and never intentionally did anything to anyone.
"Now that you have your groups, take a basket and go outside," Ms. Caine said. She opened the door and stood by it.
Noisily, most of the students arose and retrieved their green baskets. They then scrambled out the open door.
When everyone else was out, Richard was still putting his notebook into his black roller backpack. As usual, he would be the last to leave. But he didn't mind; he hated to be around the other kids.
"Richard," the teacher said, approaching him, "you don't need your bookbag. I'll call everyone in before the bell rings."
"Oh," the boy muttered. He zipped his bag and dropped it off the chair.
"What's the matter?" she asked concerned.
"Idon'twannatalkaboutit." He stared at his backpack.
"It was the boys, wasn't it? Were the boys picking on you again?" She was now standing in front of his desk.
Richard did not answer. His bookbag seemed to be much more interesting than the comforting teacher.
"Aw, Richard, don't listen to them." She pat his right hand.
"Nobody wants to be my partner."
"Well, I don't mind being your partner. You're a nice boy. Not to mention, you're very intelligent for your age. Just as smart as me, and I'm a teacher."
"I don't want to be in school anymore. None of the kids like me."
"That's not true. I'm sure plenty of them like you. They'll tell you someday." Richard kept his head down, watching himself fiddle with his fingernails. "I know what will cheer you up." She stood up.
"What?"
"Come with me to the coatroom."With her left hand, she motioned for him to follow her.
Richard finally looked up, quizzically, but did as he was told.
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