The red balloon 

Jacky was fat. No matter how they said it: over weight stuffed whatever they called it, he was fat. He knew all the other kids were talking about him. One day, a boy his age came up to him. He stood looking at him up and down. Finally, he grew tired of it. “What are you looking at?” Jacky demanded. His mother had taught him to be polite to all people.

“Boy, are you fat.” The kid smiled. “You look just like my red balloon.” He giggled and waved the red thing at him. He held it up to his eye. “Yup, just like my red balloon.”

Jacky snatched it out of Mikey’s hands, popped it, and threw the red balloon to the floor. It made Jacky so mad he stomped it with his heel. Horrified, the little boy watched his treasure suffer a terrible death. Mikey’s face screwed up he screamed. His cry echoed through the hallway of the school. Doors opened and teachers peered out to see what was going on. Mikey fell to his knees. He picked up the pieces of the red balloon like he was mourning his best friend.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry. You made me so mad,” Jacky said, knowing he was in trouble.

“You killed it. You killed my balloon. You killed my red balloon.” Mikey on his knees cradled the broken balloon in his trembling fingers. Jacky heard her coming. Her heels boomed down to him. Mrs. Daron was like a grandmother to her students at Criton elementary. She tried to be fair to everyone. She began her teaching career 30 years ago when she was in her twenties.

She came up and looked down at the little boy on his knees. “What happened Mikey?” Mikey looked at the principal with tear-filled eyes. “He killed it. Jacky killed my red balloon just cause I said he was fat. “He pointed a shaky finger at Jacky. She turned her gaze on the boy standing by the lockers. Jacky trembled, expecting a tirade. The look she gave him was one of understanding and compassion.

Getting on her knees, she helped the weeping boy to pick up the pieces of his red balloon. “Wait for me Jacky, I’ll be right back.” She said.

Then, helping Mikey to his feet, she put her hand on his shoulder and walked the little boy to her office.

Jacky shifted from one foot to the other. His shame spreading from his face to his body. Tears came to his own eyes and ran down his cheeks. He thought of running away. Of going home, but his mother would bring him right back to the school. Before he could get away, Mrs. Daron stood before him.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Jacky said, openly crying now.

“I know. Jacky, you are one of my best-behaved students.” She escorted him to her office. Closing the door, she said. “Have a seat.” She indicated one of her guest chairs. She sat in the other. “Now tell me what happened?”

Tears wetting the collar of his shirt, Jacky said. “Mikey called me fat. He said I looked like his balloon. He held it up to his eye.”

“Jacky, do you know what downs syndrome is?” The little boy shook his head. “Mikey has down’s syndrome. This makes him say things that hurt other people. He doesn’t mean to. When someone points it out to him, he apologizes profusely and asks for forgiveness.”
"I…I’m sorry I didn’t know.” Jacky said in a quiet voice, hanging his head.

Mrs. Daron smiled at the little boy. “And that is the reason I keep a package of red balloons in my desk.” Opening a drawer, she blew up a red balloon, tied it off and handed it to Jacky.

“Now.” She said smiling. “Lets go see Mikey.”
Together, they went to another part of her office. Mikey set alone mumbling to himself. When he saw the balloon in Jacky’s hands, his face brightened. “You fixed it. You fixed it.” Jacky handed him the red balloon. Carefully he hugged Jacky.

From that day, Jacky and Mikey became best friends.