Four

An unusual event occurs in Mrs. Blake's fourth grade classroom.

Mrs. Blake's voice was a joyous counter to what was going on outside the window. "Who's ready to get ready for the winter holidays, everyone?" she giggled. El Niño storms were merging above, gray raindrops spiraling down, glazing the playground. "Our whole class is going to adopt a family! They have two twin boys your age!" Sticks and trash orbited the campus from above, sometimes bouncing off the window with an unnoticed scrape. "Each and every one of us is going to work together to give them holiday presents!" The sky above Mrs. Blake's third grade classroom was the color of newspaper, ink running off the sheets and down to earth. "We're all going to learn how to succeed at something in the real world!" A crescendo of lighting erupted somewhere, punctuating Mrs. Blake's idea with light and sound. Her smile warily held.

 

 A tired hand rose somewhere in the front row, which Mrs. Blake promptly recognized. "Can't we just buy them?" it said.

 

Mrs. Blake put her hands in her pockets and tilted her head, then slowly affirmed, "I suppose so, yes, Elizabeth."

 

 Another hand shot up, immediately declared its desire to know if the boys were cute. To Mrs. Blake, this went ignored. Thunder covered up the chuckles.

 

I put up my own hand from the center of the room, and spoke as soon as she saw it. "Do we have to give anything? Like, do we have to do this at all?"

 

Mrs. Blake backed up and put a hand on the lip of the chalkboard. She tilted her head again. "No, I suppose not, Andrew. But it'd be nice." She looked up, smiled anxiously, already regretting what she'd started. When one last hand ascended somewhere behind me, Mrs. Blake groaned. "Yes?" she said.

 

"Giving is its own reward."

 

I spun around in my seat and gaped at our new student.