The sound of a blade scraping against a rock could hardly be heard in the bustling boy's restroom. A boy sat on the closed toilet, silent and focused on the craft.

Tzk. Tzk.

Samuel glanced at the sketch he had made. He had doubts that he could finish this before it was due. "Only a week," he grumbled. "Only a week to carve a bear out of soapstone. Stupid." He couldn't just abandon it, though. He and Kevin were working on this together. Kevin, of course, had taken the written part. "Leaving all the work for me, great," he had said.

The stalls around him were beginning to filter out. He could hear who was leaving, able to identify someone based only on their footsteps. Blake, Stan, Ed, Gabe, all of them seemed to leave at once. They always smoked here. The smell never failed to disgust Samuel.

Tzk, tzk. He had to hurry up. Maybe he could make up an excuse about the stone breaking. Or he could just carve the last three legs in five minutes. At least he could say he tried.

Tzk, tzk, tk.

A bead of blood formed on his fingertip. The tool had slipped, accidentally slicing him. "Ow, shit," he muttered. He knew this would happen if he rushed it. He put his finger in his mouth on impulse, trying to stop the blood.

But it didn't hurt. Why didn't it hurt? He took his finger out of his mouth and wiped it on a square of toilet paper. He hadn't imagined it; there was totally blood there. He pinched his fingers together. It still didn't hurt. Tentatively, he looked back at the artist's tool. "Maybe," he thought, "maybe there aren't as many nerves in my finger. That has to be why."

He wished he had a mother to come home to. He wished he could run back to the orphanage and find his mother, his real mother, sitting in the gross pale waiting room, her arms open wide. He wished he was never told how she'd died in that flood. He wished he had someone to lean on, to ask these questions to.

All of these thoughts, all at once, came crashing down on Sammy as he began to cry in the now completely empty bathroom. But why didn't it hurt? Why didn't it matter what the answer was? He wanted to scream. He wanted the principle to storm into the bathroom, asking him why he's making such a ruckus. He wanted to be expelled and be sent back to the orphanage. He wanted for anyone to know he was there. He waited to be noticed. 

But it wasn't going to happen. None of that would ever happen. He knew that. He would just be hustled over to that damn counselor again, to have her tell him, "it'll get better, you're gonna find a family who loves you," completely unaware that he knew his real mom did love him. He remembered her telling him that every day before...before...

"Mommy, help me..." He whispered. He knew there wasn't going to be a response. "Please..."

I want to feel something, he thought. Anything. I just want to have feelings again.

He squeezed his hand shut around the sharp end of the art tool. A fiery jab into his palm. No feelings yet, just shock. He had to keep going. He had to feel something. He put down the unfinished bear with one hand and slid up his sleeve with the other. Snot and tears were streaming down his cheeks and face. I have to feel something, he kept telling himself. I have to. I have to. I have to...

Samuel stumbled into the classroom, holding his arm close to his body. It was wrapped up in paper towels and tissues. His face was blank, lacking expression. Kevin was waiting impatiently at their desk. 

"God, what took you so long?" He huffed. "And you forgot the bear, too. You're a useless partner. God. Now I'll have to hold us together. God..." Kevin had the sheets of research laid out in front of him. He glanced up at Samuel. "Chill, man, holy crap. It was just a joke. Don't have to give me the death stare or anything."

"I'm. Fine." Samuel said, almost robotic. Let's just get. This. Over. With. Okay? I. Just. Need. A. Minute."

Kevin smirked. "Hey, Ed, Blake! We got the uhhh, the Terminator over here." The boys turned their heads and laughed. The sound should have been thunderous as usual to Sammy. This time must have been different. 

"Kevin." He whispered, forcing a grin. "Let's just focus on the presentation."

I did it, he thought. I felt something.