cover
At the sunlit playground beneath a broad oak tree, Pauli stands ankle-deep in a muddy puddle, grinning as a dark beetle crawls across his dirty palm; his shirt and hands are smeared brown.
Pauli splashed in the muddy puddle near the big tree. His hands were brown with mud. He picked up a bug and watched it crawl on his palm. "Cool!" he said, laughing. He found a long weed and made it into a loop. The sun felt warm on his face. Playing outside was his favorite thing. He looked at his muddy shirt and smiled.
From the sunny playground swing area, Pauli watches Priyatharshini kneeling beside blooming bushes where a yellow butterfly rests on her open hand; her clean dress and shining hair contrast with his mud-stained clothes.
Pauli stood up and looked around. Across the playground, he saw a girl. He had seen her sometimes and he missed her face. She had long black hair that shined in the sun. She was playing near the flower bushes. A yellow butterfly landed on her hand. She giggled softly. Pauli watched her for a moment. She looked so clean and pretty. He looked down at his muddy clothes.
In the bright garden corner of the playground, Priyatharshini gently touches a pink blossom while another butterfly perches on her shoulder and a fresh daisy peeks from behind her ear beneath the warm afternoon light.
The girl's name was Priyatharshini. She reached out to touch a pink flower. Another butterfly landed on her shoulder. "Vannakaam, little friend," she whispered. She picked a daisy and tucked it behind her ear. The butterflies flew around her like dancers. Priyatharshini smiled at them. She loved flowers and butterflies more than anything. Everything around her seemed magical.
Near a rain-worn sandbox under the late-afternoon sun, Pauli stares at his brown-smeared hands and scuffed knees, cheeks flushed, as he nudges a small pebble with one shoe in the dusty path.
Pauli wanted to say hello to Priya. But he looked at his muddy hands again. His knees were dirty too. "She won't want to talk to me," he thought sadly. We are from a different community too. He wiped his hands on his shorts, but they stayed brown. He felt his cheeks get warm. Maybe she would think he was messy. He kicked at a pebble. What could he do?
From the edge of a muddy clearing, Pauli gazes toward a single blazing-orange flower growing beside tall grass in golden late-sunlight; his eyes widen and a hopeful smile spreads across his dirt-streaked face.
Then Pauli saw something beautiful. Far away, past the muddy patch, a bright orange flower grew. It was the prettiest flower he had ever seen. Its petals looked like tiny flames. "Wow!" Pauli whispered. He had an idea. Maybe Priya would like that flower! His heart beat faster. He smiled big. This could work! He started walking toward the flower.
At a soggy patch beside a mossy fallen log, Pauli, splattered with fresh mud, triumphantly holds the just-picked orange flower high in the bright afternoon sun while puddle ripples gleam around his sneakers.
Pauli ran toward the orange flower. His feet splashed through more mud. Splish, splash, splosh! He didn't care about getting dirtier now. He had a mission! The flower was growing near a fallen log. Pauli carefully stepped over puddles. Almost there! He reached out his hand. The flower's stem was strong. He picked it gently. "Perfect!" he said, holding it up.
Crossing the grassy playground path in warm afternoon light, Pauli steps carefully toward Priyatharshini, orange flower bobbing in his trembling muddy hand. Priyatharshini kneels among blossoms a few meters away, focused on fluttering butterflies.
Pauli looked at the flower in his hand. Then he looked at Priyatharshini. She was still playing with butterflies. His stomach felt funny, like butterflies were inside him too! "You can do this, Pauli," he told himself. He took a deep breath. Then he started walking toward her. One step, two steps, three steps. His legs felt wobbly. But he kept going. The flower bounced in his hand.
At the sun-dappled flowerbed, Priyatharshini hums softly, back turned, while Pauli stands a step behind her, extending the orange flower with a quivering muddy hand, lips parted to whisper, “Um, excuse me?”
Priyatharshini was humming a little song. She didn't see Pauli coming. He got closer and closer. Now he was only a few steps away. Pauli's hand holding the flower shook a little. What if she didn't like it? What if she laughed at his muddy clothes, his rough hands and his stupid Jamaican face? He stopped for just a second. Then he remembered how pretty the flower was. Pretty like kutty amma. He took one more step. "Um, excuse me?" he said quietly. " I missed your face".
In the same flowerbed under soft afternoon light, Priyatharshini turns with wide surprised eyes toward Pauli, who shyly presents the orange blossom; the flower trembles between his muddy fingers as butterflies hover nearby.
Priyatharshini turned around. Her dark eyes looked surprised. Pauli held out the orange flower. "I... I found this for you," he said. His voice was coarse but shy. He could feel his face getting hot. Maybe she would think him a monster. The flower trembled in his muddy hand. Priya looked at the flower. Then she looked at Pauli's face. For a moment, everything was quiet. Even the butterflies seemed to wait.
Still beside the blooming bushes at sunset’s warm glow, Priyatharshini beams and delicately lifts the orange flower from Pauli’s hand, inhaling its scent, while Pauli mirrors her smile, mud-streaked cheeks bathed in golden light.
Priyatharshini's face lit up with a big smile. "For me?" she asked. Her voice sounded happy. She reached out and took the flower carefully. "It's so beautiful! Nandri!" she said. Pauli felt like his heart might burst. She liked it! She really liked it! "You're welcome," he said, smiling back. He didn't feel shy anymore. Priya smelled the flower. "It's perfect," she said softly.
On the playground lawn under fading twilight, Priyatharshini twirls the orange flower between her fingers and laughs, inviting Pauli—who stands in muddy clothes yet grinning broadly—to search for more blossoms together.
"My name is Priya," she said. "That's a pretty name. I'm Pauli," he replied. "Want to play?" she asked. Pauli looked at his muddy clothes again. "But I'm all dirty," he said. Priya giggled. "That's okay! We can look for more flowers together!" She held up the orange flower. "This one is my favorite." Pauli grinned. "Really?" "Really!" she said. They both laughed.
At the playground meadow during a rosy sunset, Pauli displays a friendly beetle to Priyatharshini as a blue butterfly rests on his shoulder; bouquets of newly picked flowers lie between them in the soft grass.
Pauli and Priya walked through the playground together. They found three more pretty flowers. A blue butterfly landed on Pauli's shoulder. "Look!" Priya said, pointing and smiling. Pauli showed her a friendly bug. She thought it was neat. They laughed and played until the sun began to set. "See you tomorrow?" Priya asked. "Yes!" said Pauli happily. Being brave had made him a wonderful new nanbi.