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town. And now he was about to face the greatest test of all — the local school, Willow Creek Elementary. Sarah had spent the previous evening preparing him for what to expect. She had helped him lay out his clothes, making sure everything was clean and pressed. She had packed his lunch, putting in extra food because she knew how hungry he always was. And she had tried, in her gentle way, to prepare him for the reality of what he was about to face. "There are going to be some children who are curious about you," she said. "And there are going to be some who are... unkind. You need to remember that their behavior isn't about you. It's about them. It's about the fears and prejudices they've learned from their parents. You just be yourself, and you'll be fine." Will nodded, but he wasn't sure he believed her. He had been to school before, in various towns across the South, and he knew how cruel children could be. They could sense weakness, and they were quick to exploit it. The walk to school was a short one, just a few blocks down Sycamore Street. Will walked with Elijah, who was in the same grade. Ruth was a few years ahead, and she had already left earlier that morning to catch up with her friends. "Just stick with me," Elijah said, his voice matter-of-fact. "People know I'm not the one to mess with. If they see you with me, they'll leave you alone." Will was grateful for the protection, but he also felt a pang of resentment. He didn't want to be protected. He wanted to be accepted. He wanted to walk into school like a normal student, without anyone staring or whispering. But of course, that wasn't going to happen. The moment they walked through the doors of Willow Creek Elementary, the whispers began. Will could feel the eyes on him, the curious stares, the hushed conversations. He was the white boy in the black school, the oddity, the anomaly. The school itself was a modest building, a single story with faded brick walls and a wooden sign that creaked in the wind. The classrooms were small and crowded, the desks worn and scarred from decades of use. The blackboards were chalky, the erasers dusty, and the windows were streaked with the grime of countless rainy days. But it was a school, a place of learning, and Will was determined to make the most of it. Elijah guided him to their classroom, a small room with worn wooden desks and a blackboard covered in chalk dust. The teacher was a young black woman named Miss Johnson, who had a kind face and a firm voice. She took one look at Will and smiled. "Ah, you must be William," she said warmly. "I've heard so much about you. Welcome to my class." Will mumbled a thank-you and took his seat, trying to ignore the stares of the other students. There were about twenty children in the room, ranging from six to ten years old. Most of them were black, though there were a few who appeared to be mixed race. And all of them were looking at Will with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. The morning passed in a blur of lessons and whispers. Will was a good student, quick to pick up new concepts, and he answered questions correctly when called upon. But he could feel the hostility simmering beneath the surface, the resentment of children who didn't understand why he was there. At recess, the storm