Then she looked at Felix.
Still at his desk. Still watching.
He hadn't moved an inch since circle time started. His arms were crossed over his chest, lips pressed into a silent frown, eyes burning softly with that familiar, unreadable fire. He wasn't hiding. He wasn't throwing a tantrum. He was simply… not participating.
And yet, Alina knew he was listening.
She could feel it in the way his gaze followed the others, the way his foot tapped just slightly, like some part of him wanted to be included, but another part refused to ask for it.
She didn't call his name like she did with the others. She didn't clap or coax loudly or pretend she hadn't noticed.
No.
Alina walked over to his desk.
Quietly. Calmly. Like she was walking into a sacred space.
She crouched beside him, folding her skirt under her knees, placing her hand gently on the edge of his desk without touching him.
He didn't look at her, but his jaw clenched slightly.
"Sweetheart," she said softly, her voice like warm tea on a rainy day, "You don't have to join the circle if you don't want to. But I wanted to ask you myself. Because I noticed you."
That made him flinch.
Just a little.
She tilted her head and added, "You don't need to sit with the others. You can sit anywhere that makes you feel safe. But I'd like you there. You're part of the class too, Felix."
For a long moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched so long she thought maybe she'd misstepped.
But then—
He slowly slid off his chair.
His movements were small, careful. And yet, he carried himself like a king who had just decided to grace a gathering with his presence.
He didn't join the circle, not really.
Instead, he walked straight to where he thought she would sit in the center.
Alina walked toward the sunny spot where the children had formed their uneven little circle.
But instead of sitting right in the center like a "proper teacher," she placed herself off to the side, just enough to keep an eye on everyone, but not the exact middle of the circle.
From behind, a pair of crimson eyes narrowed.
Felix.
He sat exactly where he thought she'd be. Behind her but now she was sitting somewhere else, just slightly off-center and though his face stayed calm, the faint twitch in his eyebrow said everything.
His plan was ruined. He looked mildly betrayed.
But he didn't say anything. Just adjusted his position slightly… now sitting behind no one. His small arms crossed tighter.
Meanwhile, Alina clapped her hands gently and smiled at the group.
"Alright, sweethearts! It's art time."
There was a collective cheer.
She continued softly, "I want to see all your creativity today—draw anything your heart wants. No rules. No ducks unless you really want to draw ducks."
"Oh, Teacher!" Drake shouted, "I love you!!"
Alina blinked, startled by the bold declaration.
But Drake had no shame—he was practically vibrating with joy.
"You're so much better than Miss Clara!" he beamed, holding a blue crayon like a microphone. "She always makes us draw treehouses and ducks. Tree house! Duck! Tree house! Duck! Yuck!!"
He made a dramatic gagging face, sticking out his tongue as if the idea alone was poison.
Alina laughed gently, covering her mouth.
"Well, no tree and houses today, promise."
Boo leaned back and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "That's how it begins. First they let you draw anything, then BOOM—duck assignments."
Luna grunted. "I don't draw ducks. I eat ducks."
Kelpie blinked in horror.
Rocky quietly drew a tiny treehouse in the corner of his paper and whispered, "…I like tree and houses."
Felix, still seated at the edge of the circle, stared at his blank paper with an expression like it had personally offended him. He didn't draw.
Alina walked around the room, smiling, encouraging, occasionally kneeling to help pick up a fallen crayon or admire someone's masterpiece, carefully praising each one for their style, their imagination, their creativity.
And even though he didn't join in, Felix's eyes followed her everywhere.
As Alina slowly made her way around the circle, her heart filled with a strange sort of warmth. It wasn't just the golden sunlight or the scattered colors on paper—it was the way these little babies, each so different and wild, were slowly showing her tiny pieces of their world. Drake was drawing a massive red dragon with glitter explosions coming out of its nose. Boo had drawn something that looked like a crown riding a unicycle. Kelpie's paper was wet and softly glowing, like a pond captured in pastels. Rocky's drawing was mostly shapes and stones glued to the corners, and Sable's was all dark swirls and shadows that moved when you didn't look directly at them.
Then she knelt beside Luna.
And paused.
Luna was hunched over her drawing with intense focus. her long gray hair had fallen over one eye. She held her crayon like a weapon. There were three broken ones already on the floor beside her—may they rest in peace.
Alina leaned a bit closer and looked down at Luna's paper.
Her lips twitched.
Her eyebrows jumped slightly.
She blinked.
"...Is that..."
There, in the middle of the paper, was a giant angry wolf—mouth wide open, teeth bared, claws out, chasing what appeared to be… a duck wearing sunglasses.
The duck was mid-scream.
And next to it, in scratchy baby handwriting, Luna had written in purple crayon:
"HUNT TIME."
Alina stared at it, unsure whether to laugh or start counseling sessions.
She covered her mouth to stop the giggle, but a tiny snort escaped.
Luna looked up, squinting. "Why are you laughing?"
Alina quickly cleared her throat. "No, no—I'm not laughing, sweetheart. That's just… a very strong drawing. You've got amazing action going on."
Luna narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I was serious."
"I know." Alina nodded, patting her gently. "You're very talented. Very… intense."
From behind her, Boo leaned in and whispered, "That duck is doomed."