“She doesn’t like me,” he said as he slumped into the seat beside her. “She says all these mean things, like I’m not here.” He scratched his nose with a knuckle. “You don’t believe her, do you?” He patted his chest, covered with a plaid shirt with the second button missing. He still hadn’t noticed that it was missing. “It’s not fair that she uses big words I can’t even spell so I can’t even look them up in the dictionary.”

“Shut up,” I mumbled.

The teacher looked up from her desk, her pen stopping only a moment later. She glared at me, her eyes narrowing. I ducked my head down, as if struck. She sighed, her red lipstick cracking as she tightened her lips, before returning to writing her report.

“You’re so mean,” he whispered behind a cupped hand. “I stayed with you when no one would play with you and talked to you when everyone else left you alone at home. I could have hung out with anyone else. Shelly is prettier, and Ella is smarter.” He stuck out his bottom lip, showing a small scar on the left where he had bitten himself after jumping down from a high branch.

“Well,” the teacher stood from the desk as she brought over the folder with my name written in intimidating script over the tab. “Are we at an understanding now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said with habitual sweetness that didn’t sound practiced.

“No, no, unfair,” He fussed in his seat and placed his hand on mine as he sniffled.

“Then there will be no more of this acting out in class.” She placed the folder down in front of me, threatening me with the record.

“Yes. I am too old for imaginary friends.” The pressure from his hand was already fading. Under my breath, I said, “Go to Shelly or Ella then.”