Late Bloomer

Waving goodbye to fellow volunteers, I followed Ronel to bungalow 202, filled with what I assume were pre-schoolers. Taped on each table was a piece of paper with chicken-scratch, but it was easy to see that these were the proud first attempts of the toddlers' name-writing. Once I arrived at the doorway, I was talking to the teacher when the bell rings and I feel a rush of footsteps creating a vibration on the wooden steps leading to their room of education.

I turned around and I saw a red-headed boy with freckles along his cheeks, bigger than the others by a few inches or so, and another little boy, Asian, yet growing such bright blonde hair. He was nearly bald and his head was like that of a baby still waiting to grow a full head of hair. He was crying, and the freckled boy turned around and said "How long is it gonna take until the sun comes up, huh?" He pushed his shoulders and the little boy lightly slammed on the door frame. He bawled and sniffled and was lowering his head into his shirt, wiping his face with his already tear-drenched collars.

The teacher called the freckled boy inside as I put my hands on the little boy's shoulders and took him aside. I bent down to talk to him. His name was written between his nose and upper lip, like a mustache. JAYDEN, it said in crooked letters. "Jayden?" He continued to take deep breaths as he kept sobbing. "Don't you listen to a word he says," I spoke softly. I wiped his chin as tears stroke down and hit the tiled floor beneath him. "Listen to me, okay? Whatever he says doesn't matter."

"Y-y-yes, M-m-miss A-a-ariannnnne," he wailed. "M-m-my h-hair's not g-growi-i-i-i-ing," he sputtered on.

"Jayden, don't listen to him, okay? Promise me." I held out my pinky finger. Jayden looked queerly at my hand whilst wiping his eye with his wrist. His small pinky finger encircled mine and he let go to hug me.