Dylan stood by the school gate, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack as he waited for his moms. When he saw Eva and Leah approaching, he could tell by their faces that something was wrong. His stomach tightened with a mix of disappointment and shame.
As they walked to the car, Dylan felt the weight of their silence pressing down on him. He knew he'd messed up today. When they finally got into the car, the tension was almost unbearable. Eva started the engine but didn't pull away immediately.
"Dylan," Eva began, her voice unusually stern, "your teacher told us what happened today."
Dylan stared at his shoes, his cheeks burning. He knew exactly what they were talking about.
Leah turned to face him from the passenger seat. "You can't keep shouting out in class and getting out of your seat. It disrupts everyone else."
"I just wanted to know why he had odd socks," Dylan mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
"But you need to follow the rules, Dylan," Eva said, her frustration clear. "You can't just do whatever you want whenever you feel like it."
Dylan's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I just... I couldn't stay still."
Leah's expression softened a bit, but she didn't let it show in her voice. "We understand it's hard for you, but you have to try, okay? We know you can do it."
Dylan nodded, sniffling. He felt a mixture of guilt and sadness, wishing he could just be like everyone else. The rest of the drive home was quiet, the air heavy with the weight of the day's events. He promised himself he'd try harder, even though he knew it wouldn't be easy.
Dylan's pov:
I walked into school with my fidget toy in my pocket, feeling pretty good. My mums had given it to me yesterday, saying it might help me concentrate better in class. I felt a bit nervous about bringing it, but I really wanted to do well and not get into trouble for being too fidgety.
In the morning, it worked great. I squeezed and twisted the toy under my desk, and for a while, I could really focus on what my teacher was saying. I didn't feel the usual need to tap my feet or drum my fingers. I thought maybe this toy was really going to help me.
But then, lunchtime came. I was out on the playground, enjoying the fresh air, when that boy, Sam, came up to me. He's been giving me trouble for a while now, always looking for ways to tease me.
"What's that thing you got?" Sam asked, pointing at the fidget toy in my hand.
"It's a fidget toy," I said. "My mums gave it to me to help me concentrate in class."
"Your mums?" he snickered. "You're such a weirdo. Who has two mums?"
I felt my face get hot. "Lots of people do," I said, trying to sound confident, but inside I was feeling hurt and angry.
Before I knew it, Sam snatched the toy from my hand and held it high above his head. "Bet you can't get it now, can you, weirdo?"
I jumped up, trying to grab it back, but he was taller than me. "Give it back, Sam!" I shouted.
He just laughed and then, out of nowhere, he pushed me hard. I fell backwards, hitting my head on the ground. The pain made me cry, tears streaming down my face as I clutched the back of my head.
A teacher must have seen, because she came rushing over and Sam threw the toy somewhere across the playground. "What's going on here?" she asked, looking between us.
"He took my toy and pushed me!" I cried.
Sam, with a look of fake innocence, said, "I didn't do anything, Miss. He's just making it up."
