María stared up at her mother, begging her with her eyes not to leave her.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she said, bending over and stroking the top of her head. “Go on and meet everyone. I’ll be back at two-thirty to pick you up at the front doors.” She turned and walked away.

“María?” Mrs. González said. “Come inside now, please.”

María shuffled hesitantly into the classroom, taking in the new sights: the paintings of animals on the walls, the large blackboard, the bookcase filled with books, the globe mounted on a metal meridian.

Her classmates were all looking at her. They weren’t seated at desks like the bigger kids but at small tables in groups of four.

“You can sit right here, María.” The teacher indicated an empty seat at a table near the front of the room.

María went to it, wishing everyone would stop staring at her.

Before she could sit down and become invisible, Mrs. González said, “Please remain standing, María. We’re introducing ourselves. Can you introduce yourself to the class, María?”

She shook her head.

“You can tell us your name, can’t you?”

“María,” she said quietly.

“I can’t hear her!” a student said.

“Please speak more loudly,” the teacher said.

“María,” she said.

“I still can’t hear her.”

“That okay, Raúl.” Then, to María: “What else can you tell us?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Surely you can tell us something?”

She shook her head.

“How about we ask you some questions then. All you have to do is answer them. Does anyone have a question for María?”

A boy stuck up his hand. “Why are you so small?”

Everyone laughed.

Mrs. González cracked her meterstick against a desk. “Quiet, children. Everybody grows at their own pace. María may end up being taller than all of you in a few years.”

A girl raised her hand. “Why do you have a doll?”

“She’s my friend,” María said.

“I still can’t hear her!”

Another hand. “What does your dad do?”

“He’s a construction worker.”

“What does he build?”

“He puts up street lights.”

Another hand. It belonged to a funny looking boy with large teeth and eyeglasses. “Do you want to be my friend?”

“Okay.”

Someone shouted: “He loves you!”

“Do not!”

“He wants to marry you.”

“Do not!”

The class began making eewwing noises.

Mrs. González cracked her meterstick again. “That’s quite enough, children. Quite enough. María, you can sit down now.”

Thankfully, she sat.

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