"So, children, has everyone finished their drawing?"
The class answered almost in unison.
"Yes!"
Neïle gripped his pencil tightly.
He loved drawing.
He loved when the lines appeared on the paper, when what lived inside his head finally took shape.
"Good. Who shall we start with?"
The teacher looked around, then smiled.
"How about you, Neïle? Would you like to come and show us your work?"
His heart beat a little faster.
"Yes, teacher!"
He stood up quickly and walked to the board, holding his paper carefully so everyone could see.
"Here's my drawing."
There were many lines.
Dark ones. Some pressed too hard.
Shapes blending into each other.
To others, it might have looked like a monster.
But to Neïle, it wasn't.
It was something he had seen in his mind.
Something alive.
Something real.
He smiled and waited.
A few students leaned forward.
"That's weird."
"Why did he draw that?"
"It looks like a monster."
Neïle blinked.
Laughter followed. Not loud. But loud enough.
Enough to hurt.
He tightened his grip on the paper.
Why are they saying mean things?
Why are they laughing?
There's nothing funny.
I think it's beautiful.
The teacher cleared her throat.
"Neïle, that's enough."
Her voice wasn't cruel. Just firm.
"You're distracting everyone. You're scaring them. We asked for something cute and nice. Why can't you follow the instructions?"
He wanted to answer.
To say he tried.
To say he didn't understand.
But no words came.
She gestured toward his seat.
He obeyed.
He placed the drawing on his desk.
This time, he didn't look at it again.
The bell rang.
Recess.
Children rushed outside, laughing and shouting.
Neïle walked down the steps more slowly. He watched the others, hesitated, then approached a small group playing together.
"Can I play with you?"
They stopped.
"We're already playing."
"Yeah."
"Go play somewhere else."
Their voices weren't angry. Just closed.
Neïle nodded.
"Okay."
He stepped back.
They had already forgotten him.
He crossed the playground without knowing where to go and ended up near a wall, far from everyone. He sat down and placed his drawing beside him.
The playground noise continued.
Laughter.
Running.
Voices.
His eyes began to sting.
He tried to hold the tears back.
But they came anyway.
Quiet.
Unnoticed.
No one saw.
The bell rang again. Recess was over.
The playground slowly emptied, as if the noise had never existed.
Neïle stayed where he was, sitting in the shadow.
He knew he should go back.
But he didn't have the strength.
At least here, no one would laugh at him.
No one would say unkind things.
His cheeks were still warm, though the tears had stopped.
He felt strange. Light. Empty.
Fatigue slowly took over.
His eyelids closed on their own.
He didn't even realise.
When he opened them again, the courtyard was empty.
Completely empty.
Silence.
For a moment, he didn't understand.
Then panic rose.
He jumped up, grabbed his crumpled drawing, and ran back inside.
The corridors were quiet. Too quiet.
He pushed open the classroom door.
Every head turned.
"Neïle!"
The teacher's voice snapped.
"Where have you been?"
He froze in the doorway.
He didn't know what to say.
Because he didn't know either.
"You worried everyone by disappearing like that."
I didn't disappear.
I was right there.
"You always have to cause trouble."
Trouble?
I just wanted to be left alone.
"It's true! You're so weird! That's why nobody wants to play with you!"
Weird.
The word echoed in his head.
Weird…
What does weird mean?
"But I—"
"No excuses. Go stand in the corner and think about what you've done."
He lowered his head and walked to the corner.
I didn't do anything.
So why does my stomach hurt?
Am I the problem?
Why can't I be like them?
He didn't know it yet, but that word would stay with him for a long time.
Neïle stood facing the wall. The paint was cold against his forehead.
He traced the tiny cracks with his eyes so he wouldn't think about anything else.
Behind him, the class went on.
Chairs scraped.
Pencils dropped.
Children whispered.
No one said his name.
It was as if he wasn't really there.
And somehow, that felt safer.
Then the teacher spoke again.
"Children, we have a new classmate today."
A murmur spread across the room.
"Ohhh!"
"What's his name?"
"Where will he sit?"
Neïle didn't move.
New or not…
It wouldn't change anything.
"You can come in," the teacher said.
The door opened quietly.
A boy stepped inside, holding the straps of his bag. He looked around, curious more than afraid.
"This is Nicolas. He'll be joining us from now on."
"Hello…" he said.
"Hello, Nicolas!" the class answered.
The teacher pointed to a desk. "You may sit down."
Nicolas didn't move right away.
His eyes scanned the room.
The desks.
The walls.
The groups of children.
Then they stopped.
On Neïle.
Neïle felt the gaze but didn't turn around.
After a moment the teacher added, almost absentmindedly, "Neïle, you can return to your seat now."
He stayed still.
One second.
Two.
Then he turned.
Nicolas was standing there.
Not laughing.
Not whispering.
Just looking at him, as if trying to understand something.
Neïle lowered his eyes, waiting.
Nothing happened.
Then Nicolas spoke.
"Why were you in the corner?"
He asked it simply. Like a real question.
Neïle hesitated.
"I don't know…"
Silence.
"I don't know anyone here," Nicolas continued. "Could you show me where we keep the drawings?"
Neïle looked up.
No one had ever asked him that before.
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
They walked to the cabinet side by side.
Quietly.
Nothing was fixed.
Nothing was suddenly easy.
But for the first time,
Neïle wasn't completely alone.