Maya and the Brave Stone
Maya stood at the school gate holding her backpack with both hands. The backpack was new. The shoes were new. Even the sky felt new, somehow brighter than yesterday's sky. Inside her tummy, a small flock of butterflies practised loop-the-loops.
Mum knelt down and tucked a piece of hair behind Maya's ear. "You know what butterflies mean, don't you?" she whispered.
Maya shook her head.
"It means something exciting is about to happen. Brave hearts and butterflies always travel together."
Maya took a long breath, the way they had practised. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The butterflies didn't disappear, but they flew in a friendlier shape.
Inside the classroom, everything sparkled with paint pots and little chairs in cheerful colours. A girl with two bouncy plaits waved from the carpet. "I'm Amara," she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Do you like dinosaurs? I'm saving you a spot."
Maya nodded so hard her own plaits bounced. She sat down beside Amara and the spot was, indeed, the perfect spot.
The teacher, Miss Olu, had a smile like a sunrise. She gave each child a small smooth stone. "This is your brave stone," she said. "Whenever your tummy flutters, hold it tight and remember: you can do hard things."
Maya squeezed her stone. The butterflies did one last loop, then settled into a soft, happy hum.
At the end of the day, Mum was waiting at the gate. Maya ran to her, brave stone warm in her pocket. "I made a friend," she announced. "And the butterflies stayed. But I think they liked it."
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