The teacher tapped two chairs together. "Jenny and Setareh, you can sit side by side," she said.
Jenny plopped down, then noticed a gold name tag on Setareh's folder that read: Age 8. She tapped her own. "Me too," she said.
Setareh's eyes went wide, and she held up eight fingers. Jenny counted them on her own hand.
Jenny opened her crayon box. Red. Only red. Setareh opened hers. Blue. Only blue.
Jenny colored a big circle red. Setareh colored a big square blue. They didn't look at each other. The crayons scratched. Scratch. Scratch.
Jenny's red crayon snapped in half. She tried Setareh's blue one — but it broke too. Her lip wobbled.
She grabbed both broken pieces and dumped them right in the middle of Setareh's blue paper. The red shards scattered like little jewels across the blue.
Setareh stared at the mess. Then she picked up a red shard and pressed it next to a blue shard. A purple spot appeared where they touched.
Her mouth formed an O. She rubbed another red piece hard against the blue — swirly purple blooms across the page. Jenny watched, then pressed a blue shard onto her red circle. Pink appeared.
They pushed their papers together. Red met blue. Blue met red. Purple. Pink. Orange swirls filled the space between them. Setareh grinned and offered Jenny a blue crayon. Jenny smiled back and offered her a red one. Outside, sunlight made the whole table glow.
