Kiko stepped through the school door. He marched straight to a blue chair by the window.
He dropped his bag and sat down hard. Kiko pulled his knees up. The room was still empty — just a clock ticking and sunlight on the floor.
Other children streamed in, dragging backpacks and laughing. Kiko watched them all, gripping the edge of his chair.
A girl dropped a crayon near his foot. It rolled and rolled until it bumped his shoe. He didn't move.
The teacher handed Kiko a folded paper schedule and pointed to his desk. He walked back slowly.
He unfolded the paper and stared at it. A boy at the next desk slid over a bright yellow paintbrush. Kiko took it.
Kiko dipped the brush into a cup of paint and made one big blue stroke on his paper. Then another. And another.
The paint squished and squawked as he dragged it across. A splat landed right on his nose. He froze.
He giggled. Then he dipped the brush again and painted until his whole page was blue.
Kiko set the brush down and leaned back. The classroom hummed around him. He rested his chin on his hands and watched the sunlight move across the floor. Salud.