Karim stood uncertainly at the edge of the playground, the din of children swirling around him like a strange, chattering river. He clutched the sleeves of his jumper, twisting the fabric between his fingers as Lily rose from the grass, brushing damp soil from her skirt. Barnaby the wooden bird and the two stones sat in a neat cluster where they had played.
Lily offered a shy smile, looping the strap of her satchel over her shoulder. "Come on," she whispered, her voice barely loud enough to cut through the noise. She motioned for Karim to walk beside her. Together, they shuffled toward the doors, the sea of children parting around them without noticing their quiet procession.
Inside, the classroom bustled with the scraping of chairs and the shuffle of muddy shoes. Karim slipped into his seat by the window, Lily taking the place beside him. The teacher, Mrs. Dunne, clapped her hands for attention. "Settle down, everyone!"
Karim set his gaze on the window, where pale clouds drifted across a grey sky. He listened, half-dreaming, as Mrs. Dunne spoke about birds for their afternoon project: how they migrate, how they build their homes far from here. Karim’s mind drifted to his own flight, the long journey across land and sea. He blinked when he realized Mrs. Dunne had stopped talking. She was looking directly at him.
"Karim, would you like to tell us about birds from your country?" Her tone was gentle, but every eye in the classroom seemed to swivel his way. Karim’s heart hammered in his chest. Words built at the back of his throat. His palms felt clammy against the wooden desk.
Lily nudged him under the table, her foot a small reassurance. He glanced at her, seeing encouragement in her eyes. The class waited. Karim swallowed, the classroom suddenly silent except for the tick of the clock.
He remembered the painted hoopoe birds from his village, their crests bright as fire, and the larks that sang as the sun rose over the poppy fields. If he could find his voice, he could draw those faraway places into this chilly room, just for a moment. But what if his words stumbled? What if the others laughed?
The silence stretched. Mrs. Dunne waited, patient. Karim closed his eyes for a heartbeat, drawing strength from the memory of his father’s gentle hand and the soft coo he had made with Barnaby. He opened his mouth—then the door banged open and Daniel, one of the rowdier boys, burst in with a flurry of apologies.
The spell broke. Laughter scattered around the room. Mrs. Dunne turned to hush Daniel, but the moment hung in the air, trembling. Karim realized all eyes would soon swing back to him, waiting for his answer, the question still lingering like a bird circling the eaves.