The room smelled of fresh paint. The little blocks gleamed on the low shelf. The yellow-and-blue rug covered the floor, all hushed, all waiting.
Teco slammed her fist on the table. BANG. The tower shook, shook… and toppled. The little blocks rolled across the colorful rug.
"NO!" — her voice cut through the room. Her small finger pointed to the red mark on her arm. The teacher was already there, staring.
Teco opened her mouth. Teeth bared. Her arm stretched out to bite. Her friend flinched — "It hurts!" — bare feet thumping on the rug.
The teacher's hand tugged the sleeve. Her fingers closed on the fabric, firm. Teco froze. From the rug, her friend watched with arms crossed.
The teacher held up the card: a frowning face, a red X over a fist. She pointed at Teco's mouth. "Say it."
Teco ground her teeth. She trembled, this way and that. Nothing. Her friend, arms crossed on the rug, kept watching.
Her mouth opened again. Instead of teeth came: "I DIDN'T… like it." Shrill, all twisted. Her friend's big round eyes went wide.
"Why?" — she asked. Teco pointed at the fallen blocks. "You knocked it down." Her friend got up and walked over to the tower.
She clicked the last block on top. The tower wobbled, but held. "Together," she said. Two bare feet thumped on the rug. THUMP.
