Macy shrugs and twirls the bunny around once, then says, “Not really; it just takes practice.” She points at my sketchbook and asks, “Can I borrow a piece?”

I tear out a fresh sheet of paper and hand it to her. I watch her fold one corner over like the top of a triangle, and then she folds the bottom part up and down over the edge of the table and rips the end of the paper in a perfectly straight line. “You have to start with a square,” she explains, and I have to lean in so that I can hear her because she’s talking so quietly.

She makes fold after fold. “Those will be the ears,” she tells me, “and this part will pop out and become the tail.” I watch as the bunny comes to life right in front of me. Last, she shapes the ears to be floppy just like real bunny ears.

“Wow,” I say as she hands it to me.

“You can have it,” she mumbles, adding, “I mean, if you want.”

“Really? Are you sure?” I ask.

She nods and takes one final sip of juice from her tray. “It’s your paper, so . . .” but she doesn’t finish. Instead, she stands to take her lunch tray up to the front of the cafeteria.

I admire my new little origami bunny, and while I wait for her to return to the table, I have a thought. I open my sketchbook to the drawing I had just done, and I carefully tear the page out (though not with as straight of a line as Macy’s).

When Macy gets back to her seat, I slide the drawing toward her and say, “Here, then you should have this.”

She takes the paper from me and gazes admiringly at the drawing. “Thanks.”

Chapter 9

MATH AND MUSIC

The bell rings. Macy and I walk close together in the sea of students rushing for the cafeteria doors, getting bumped and poked like we’re inside a giant pinball machine as we try to get out.

The halls outside are flooded too, with the fourth graders now making their way to the lunchroom. Usually, it’s easy to peel away and head down the hallway toward the Resource Room, which is in the opposite direction of our class. Because usually, nobody pays attention to me.

But not today.

I slow my pace, letting Macy get several steps ahead of me. At the intersection of the two hallways, I stop. It feels wrong to just walk away without saying anything. But on the other hand, what am I supposed to say?

Macy glances back when she realizes I’m no longer by her side. “Coming?” she asks.