Inconsistent Paper Stars

It's September, and as any kid can tell you, that means school.

For Zachary Baker-or Zacky, as he preferred-, it meant his first day of Kindergarten.

He wasn't very happy about it.

Older kids in the neighborhood had told him how terrible school is, how you have to sit still for hours at a time and actually listen. Zacky shuddered at the mere thought. He was not looking forward to school, at all, whatsoever.

When his mom first pulled up to the school, Zacky had his face in full-pout mode, preparing to pout his way out of school. But then he saw the most wonderful thing he had ever seen in all of his five years.

He grabbed his mother's sleeve. "Mommy, look, look at that person!!!! He's bootiful!!!"

Ms. Baker "look looked" and smiled. "He looks about your age, honey. I'm sure you two will be very good friends. Now, go on, you've got your backpack, go say hi to the beautiful boy."

"Okay, Mommy, come get me as soon as school is over. Okay?" He looked at his mother for reassurance.

She nodded. "Of course, Zacky. Now go. Look, the beautiful boy is walking away!"

Zacky bolted out of the car, leaving his mother smiling and hoping that maybe her son might not find school so unbearable after all.

Zacky ran all the way until he ran into "The Beautiful Boy”, as his name was now in his head. The Beautiful Boy took one look at Zacky, and his eyes went wide and he started backing up. "No, nonono, don't hit me!!!!"

Zacky halted, confused. "Why would I hitchoo? You're too bootiful." Zacky's smile was contagious, as The Beautiful Boy soon found out.

"You think I'm bootiful? Really?" Zacky nodded vigorously, and stuck out his hand.

"My name is Zachary James Baker, but most people call me Zacky. The only time someone calls me Zachary James is when I do someting wrong, or my old people famiy call me Zachary all the time, but we don't see them much. I'm glad. They're all old and wrinky. I'm five years old. I told one of my neighbors that, and he said that's a whole hand, and he said when he was five he met his first boyfwend. He says that he's gay, and that means he can have a boyfwend, but he doesn't want a girlwiend. He says girls are icky. I agree with him. Except for my mommy. She's nice. I watched my neighbor and his boyfwend make out once, but then my neighbor took off his boyfwend's shirt, and my mommy says I have to go away from the window when he does that. I don’t know why. My mommy always tells me that I talk too much, and that I need to take a breath sometimes and let other people talk. What's your name?" Zacky looked at The Beautiful Boy with a smile on his face, his hand still out.

The Beautiful Boy put his hand in Zacky's. "My name is Bwian Ewin Haner, JR, but I reawy don't like my name, because my father has dat name, and my father is a bad man. A Very Bad Man. Nobody reawy calls me anyting other than Brian. I don't talk much to people I don't know, so I'm going to be quiet until I know you better, but I'll talk more once I know you better. My mommy says that I'm smart, but I reawy don't like learning. I had to go to this hewl cawed Pweschool. I hated it, except for the snacks. They were pretty good." Brian's smile was wider now, as he watched Zacky's eyes do the same.

"You just said a bad word!!! My mommy says that bad words aren't awowed at school, so she said I had to watch my mouth, or she was gonna wash it out with soap." Zacky stared accusingly at Brian. "Did your mommy tell you that?"

Brian laughed. "No, she said I just can't say bad words awound teachews. And she also says hewl isn't a bad word." He giggled when Zacky gasped at the "bad word" again. "She says it's a place, and that anyone should be able to say it."

Zacky thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess it is. Hey, wanna be best fwends?"

"Yeah! You know, I've never had a best fwend before," Brian confessed. "All the kids at pweschool were mean to me, because I was a bad boy."

"Really?" Zacky's eyes were wide again. "I think you're the coowest person I've ever meet in this town. Not that I've met many, but you're still the coolest, and you'wll always be the bestetst, 'cause you're my bestest friend ever."

"Coowl. Oh, look, there's a grown up coming towards us. I think we were supposed to be learning."

Zacky groaned. "Do we really have to sit still?"

Brian nodded seriously. "Yeah, we have to sit still. For free whole hours. It's not fun at all."

Upon being lead into the classroom by the grown up, who turned out to be their teacher, Mrs. Burming, they saw another adult leading another boy-about their age-into the same room they were going to. The second grown up-a man-said to their teacher, "Watch out for this one. His name's Jimmy Sullivan, and I found him trying to climb over the fence around the playground...he was halfway up, too."

Mrs. Burming's eyes grew wide. "Thank you for telling, Principal Michals. I'll be sure to keep a close eye on little Jimmy, here."

Zacky took one glance at Jimmy and knew that they were going to be good friends. He had jet-black hair, kinda scruffy, and wore a Power Rangers t-shirt. He immediately burst out talking. "Hi, Jimmy. My name's Zacky, and this here is Bwian. He's my bestest friend, but if you want to be bestest friends with us, you can. My mommy said I should have more bestest friends than just one
or otherwise people wiwl feel wonely. I wike your shirt. Which Powe-"

He meant to continue, but Mrs. Burming put a hand over his mouth. “There’s a time to talk, Zacky, and it’s not now. You can talk during recess.”

Zacky’s eyes widened. “Wecess? The older boys on my street told me about wecess. They said it was the bestest thing ever, almost as good as chocolate cake or a bag of sour skittles. What’s wecess like? Mommy said I shouldn’t listen to the boys on the street, only ‘cause they gave me a black eye once ‘cause they said I was annoying.”

Mrs. Burming took a second to take this all in. She could already tell that this year was going to be a long one. This boy could talk faster than anyone she’d ever met, and he was only five! “Recess is going to be an hour from now. You have twenty minutes to go play on the playground, then it’s back to learning. But you three are late. Ten minutes late!” She gasped as she looked at her watch. “I told the aid I’d only be gone for a few minutes. Oh, I must hurry! Boys, come!” Her manner was so strict, that even though all three boys didn’t like to do what they were told, they followed her anyway. Such is the way of Mrs. Burming, as the boys would soon learn.