The playground stretched golden and empty. Popple stood at the school gate, frozen. Behind her, the green raincoat dragged like a long tail on the sun-warmed grass.
Her shoes stayed planted on the gate stones. The raincoat pooled on the dry grass behind her. The playground waited. Popple did not lift her foot.
Popple tugged the oversized raincoat off one shoulder. One tiny step onto the playground gravel. Crunch. Her shoe stuck fast in the little grey stones.
She wiggled her toe hard. Pop! The shoe slid free from the gravel. The raincoat swished back over her head like a curtain. She was still outside.
Popple pressed her nose to the open classroom door. Yellow chairs. A low table. Chalk dust floating. She waved one small finger at the room.
No one turned. No heads bobbed above the yellow chairs. No small voices called her name. Popple pulled the raincoat close, hugging the damp-smelling fabric tight.
The yellow chairs sat in neat rows. Chalk dust drifted in the afternoon sun. The low table held nothing. The room waited, quiet and warm.
SNAP. A green crayon broke clean in half. A boy in a red hat stood right in front of her, chipped green tip pointing up. "For you?"
Popple's eyes went wide. Green powder scattered in the sunlight like tiny stars. She reached out. The boy extended the broken crayon tip toward her palm.
Popple took the green piece. Then his hand. Together they walked across the threshold. The raincoat flopped onto the grass behind them. At the yellow table, two green stubs pushed across the paper. Scritch, scritch.
