“Okay, I think we’ve had enough,” Miss Wang declared. Quickly dismissing recent events from our minds, we groaned collectively as the teacher strolled across the room and plucked the ball from the bucket of chalk in which it had landed. A chorus of pleas rose from the class. Miss Wang sighed. “One more chance,” she compromised as she chucked the ball into the throng. My classmates exploded with cheers, and the game recommenced.

“No one’s passed the ball to me,” Christina sighed to herself, loud enough for half the class to hear.

Fed up with her histrionic remarks, I responded casually, “Of course they have. Someone must have.”

“Nope. Any throws towards me were aimed at you.”

“Really?” I exclaimed, eyes wide. In truth, I wasn’t surprised. Christina wasn’t exactly the most popular person in school. In fact, one tended to avoid her. “I don’t believe that!”

“Yeah, well,” Christina trailed off dramatically. I subtly rolled my eyes at her attempt to make me feel sorry for her. I mean, sure, I felt bad for her lack of social status, but she was a bit over-the-top about it. Her exaggerated sensitivity was a tad too high for anyone to withstand.

“Yo, Kate!” I turned to see Amita, the current bearer of the fluffy ball, waving her arms frantically to get my attention. With my right hand, I pretended to be prepared to receive the ball. With my left, however, I secretly pointed at Christina, signalling to Amita to pass to her. Amita nodded reluctantly and hurled it towards my “ostracized companion”.

I looked to my right, expecting to see Christina beaming with the ball in her hands. The view I received, however, was one much more hostile: she had turned to stare daggers at me.

“I’m not an idiot,” she stated menacingly as she flung the ball across the room.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning innocence.

She exhaled angrily. “Never mind.”

The ball came to me again. I surveyed the scene, searching for a good receiver. That’s when I saw her. One of my classmates, Lindsay Sollomovici, was sitting on her desk, just like the rest of us. However, it was the look on her face that made her stand out: she appeared jaded, dejected. Left out. Her eyes were cast downwards, and her loneliness struck my heart with a pang. I knew what I had to do.

“Lindsay!” I called out as loud as I could. She looked up and her eyes met mine. Once she recognized what was happening, a wide grin spread across her face. She raised her hands to receive in what felt like slow motion. I performed a one-handed toss, arcing high and heading straight for its target. Lindsay snatched it out of midair. The bell rang just as she completed that perfect catch.

The class jumped down off their desks at the same time, threw their bags over their shoulders, and made a mass exodus out of the math room. I hung back for a few seconds, wanting to avoid the crush of twenty-eight students trying to fit through a single doorway. Lindsay was waiting as well, and she caught sight of me. She bit her lip and walked over to where I was standing.

“Um, hey, Kate,” she began, stuttering. “I just wanted to say that it was really, um, nice of you to throw the ball to me.”

“Oh,” I replied rather ungracefully, somewhat taken aback. I smiled friendlily and shook my head. “It was nothing, Lindsay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” she said, beaming back at me with a smile that spread to her eyes. “Well, thank you, Kate.”

They were such simple words of gratitude. They were straightforward, honest. But it wasn’t the words themselves that hit home for me; it was the delivery, the purity in her voice, and the sincerest of smiles on her face. I had done so little to deserve this openness and trust. My seemingly insignificant good deed had brightened her day, and that feeling encompassed me as well. Her loneliness had evaporated, and as our eyes locked one last time before she left the classroom, I knew that this moment was priceless.