TELESFORO sighed. He really, absolutely could not go to the new school one more day.
Maybe the kids didn't tease him about his name, but they all played baseball and soccer and ate lunch together -- without him. That was the whole problem. No one saw him. Or talked to him. Or even knew he was there.
So when Telesforo shuffled off to school this morning, his head was bowed and his feet kicked at anything on the sidewalk.
As usual, Mrs. Benson asked if anyone had an interesting experience to share, or something special to show the class.
The other kids described their wonderful vacations at the beach or camping in the mountains. Family birthday parties. Riding on airplanes and boats with their grandparents.
Sometimes Mrs. Benson read to the class from the newspaper, and today Telesforo was surprised when she read about the U.S. Mint making five special quarters every year to honor each of the 50 states.
Excitement bubbled through him. He knew all about those shiny new state quarters. He and his dad collected them. Dad gave him a small album to hold them. By the end of 2008, Telesforo would have all 50.
He was so excited to have something to share, his hand shot up in the middle of Mrs. Benson's reading. She didn't stop, and Telesforo pulled his hand down quickly and felt his face grow hot.
"I think you have something to share with us, Telesforo," Mrs. Benson said when she'd finished.
But Telesforo couldn't forget he'd interrupted her by raising his hand. He blinked and his throat tightened and no words could choke out of his mouth. He shook his head. No, he had nothing to share.
But by the time he was ready for bed that night, he decided to take one of his quarters tomorrow.
Which quarter should it be? Delaware, because it was the first to be minted? Or New Jersey, because it was the rarest? Or New York with the Statue of Liberty? Yes. He'd take New York.
The next morning, Mrs. Benson asked, "Telesforo, do you have something to share today?"
Telesforo couldn't speak. His face burned. His icy fingers clamped over the New York quarter in his pocket. He was like a statue.
Slowly, he moved his head from side to side, because holding up one little coin for the class to see was really dumb. He would have to say something.
He thought about that. And planned.
The next day, when the kids settled, Telesforo took two deep breaths and, with his dark green album, marched up to the front.
