Matheo and his friends chased butterflies across the playground. Green grass, red跑道 lines, laughter floating into the warm Brazilian air.
A shadow fell over them. A big kid stomped forward, snatched Mia's red kickball, and the grass crinkled under his heavy shoes.
Matheo stepped forward. His fingers tightened around his backpack strap. 'Give it back,' he whispered.
The bully looked surprised, then tossed the ball back. It bounced once, twice, and landed right at Matheo's feet.
Tweet! The teacher's whistle blew from the doorway. 'Dodgeball!' she called, and even the bully raised his hand.
Matheo, Marco, Mia, Sara, and the bully lined up on the painted court. Rubber balls bounced between their sneakers.
Weeks later, Matheo unrolled his folded paper. A bright red circle surrounded the number 10. The numbers seemed to dance.
The classroom smelled like pencil shavings and warm wax. Matheo traced the red circle with his fingertip. He thought: I did it.
Matheo walked down the hallway and held up his test paper. The bully paused, looked, and smiled — small but real.
Matheo grinned back. No words were needed. The hallway felt different — lighter, somehow.
They walked past each other in the hallway. Afternoon sun painted long golden stripes across the classroom floor.
Matheo looked back once. The bully was already gone around the corner. But the smile stayed.