The boy only wiped his dusty hands on his shirt, let out a small sigh, and turned back toward school. His mind was racing now—trying to figure out what he would say to his teacher.
As expected, the teacher’s sharp voice cut through the classroom the instant he stepped inside.
“Late again! How many times has this happened? I’m calling your parents to school!”
“But I…” the boy started, his voice shaking, but the words caught in his throat.
“I don’t care what you were doing out there,” she interrupted. “How many times have I told you not to be late for my class? Sit down. Tomorrow I expect you here with your parents.”
He sank into his seat, his heart heavy and his eyes fixed on his desk. He wanted to speak up, to explain—but what was the point? No one ever listened.
