Chapter 42: That’s It?

In the afternoon, once the weather had cooled down a bit, the teacher took them out to play.

Felix Ford grabbed a ball, found a spot for himself, and started dribbling.

Annie came running over, clutching a ball, and waved enthusiastically at him. "Felix, come play with us!"

Felix Ford glanced at them, his chin held high in disdain. "No. I like playing by myself."

"What’s the fun in playing alone? It’s only fun when we all play together." Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed him and pulled him along.

Felix’s face fell. He looked reluctant, but his eyes couldn’t help darting over to look at them a few times. He muttered, "We each have our own ball. We’re still just playing by ourselves."

Annie was very good-natured and didn’t get upset. "We can have a competition!" she explained. "See who can dribble the longest."

"Oh." Felix’s face was blank. ’It’s still just dribbling, no matter how you dress it up. So boring.’ "Fine, let’s compete. You definitely can’t beat me."

As soon as he said that, someone laughed. "You’re just bragging!"

Seeing their disbelief, Felix Ford snorted. "Then let’s see about that."

"You’re on."

They even found a little kid to be the judge, but he couldn’t really count, so the rule was simple: everyone starts dribbling, and the last one still going wins.

"Start!"

The word was barely out before the little tykes started dribbling away.

It turned out Felix Ford wasn’t just bragging. He dribbled with incredible stability. While the other kids were soon chasing their balls all over the place, he stood firmly in one spot, his feet barely moving. If the ball veered off, a simple flick of his hand brought it right back.

The other kids were stunned. After retrieving their runaway balls, they gathered around to watch him.

Finally, the ball of the last remaining kid also got away from him.

Seeing that no one was left, Felix Ford stopped the ball and held it, his chin raised proudly. "See? I told you I was good."

Annie looked at him with adoration. "How did you get so good? How do you practice?"

"You just have to practice a lot by yourself. It’s not that hard."

Annie blinked, seizing on his keywords. "’By yourself? Did you always play alone at preschool before?’"

At the mention of this, the look on Felix’s face immediately soured. He shouted, "What’s wrong with playing by myself? It’s the most fun! I like playing by myself!"

He grabbed his ball and started to walk away. ’I don’t need them, anyway. All they do is talk badly about me behind my back.’

He snorted, but he’d only taken a single step before being pulled back. Annie was looking at him with a grin. "Let’s play together from now on, okay?"

Felix froze for a second, blinking, momentarily forgetting how to react.

The other children immediately crowded around. "Yeah, yeah! Can you teach us how to dribble?"

Felix looked at them. Their faces were filled with a kindness he had never seen before—no disgust, no revulsion. He blinked in disbelief. The corners of his mouth fought to curve upward, but he forced the smile down and said coolly, "Alright, then."

’They can’t even dribble a ball right. I guess I can teach these little dummies.’

Jean Vance’s class had also been brought outside. He found a spot to sit, holding a small tablet. Not far away, Paddy and a few other boys had their heads huddled together, whispering. They kept glancing over at Jean, then would go back to their furtive discussion.

Jean Vance continued playing his game, not even bothering to look up.

"Let’s do it," Paddy said. The boys crouched down and crept up behind Jean Vance. Then, one of them quickly slapped something on Jean’s back before they all walked away as if nothing had happened.

After a few steps, they looked back at Jean and started to snicker.

"He’s going to be so embarrassed."

"That’ll teach him to act so cool all the time!" Paddy said sourly.

’Hmph, I’m the handsomest boy in school. Soon, he’ll be totally humiliated!’

After finishing a round of his game, Jean reached behind his back and peeled off the note. He stared at the crooked scrawl, taking a long moment to recognize it as a drawing of a turtle. The corner of his mouth twitched.

’That’s it?’

’After all that whispering, all they could come up with was sticking a picture of a turtle on my back?’

He was momentarily speechless. He suddenly felt that the countermeasures he had been planning were now too severe to use. Those would have *really* scared them.

He stared at the turtle drawing with a grave expression, starting to doubt himself. ’Why did I overestimate them so much?’

Seeing Jean just sitting there, Paddy grew restless. Just as he was about to send someone over, he saw Jean head back to the classroom. Not knowing what he was up to, the boys secretly followed him.

Just as they reached the door, he came back out. The boys yelped like thieves caught in the act. Paddy stumbled backward, accidentally stepping on the foot of the kid behind him. The child cried out, his eyes instantly welling up with tears from the pain.

"Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t looking!" After apologizing, Paddy glared huffily at Jean. "Why’d you come out so suddenly? You scared me!"

Jean kept his hands behind his back and stepped aside. "Go on in."

The boys froze. They hadn’t actually wanted to go in; they just wanted to see what he was doing. But if they refused now, he would definitely get suspicious. After exchanging a look, Paddy led the way inside. "You don’t have to tell us what to do. You should be making way for us anyway."

For once, Jean didn’t argue back. He actually took another step aside, which made Paddy and his friends eye him with even more suspicion.

’Is Felix Ford this easy to get along with?’

But there was no time to dwell on it. They headed inside.

Jean Vance watched them go, and his hand twitched.

Paddy and his friends circled Jean’s desk for a long time but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. They were confused. What had he come in here for, only to leave so quickly?

"Come on, let’s go watch the show." Forgetting all about their confusion, Paddy ushered his friends outside, eager to see Jean get laughed at.

When they got outside, they saw Jean walking among their classmates. They were too far away to see the note on his back, but they could see a lot of girls looking at him, whispering to each other, and pointing.

’They must be laughing at him.’

A triumphant grin spread across Paddy’s face. The boys strutted forward gleefully.

They even made a point of following Jean’s path. As the saying goes, comparison is the thief of joy—or in this case, the source of it. With Jean playing the role of the "turtle," this was the perfect time to show off how cool *they* were.

Paddy puffed out his chest, his double chin raised in confidence. He was pleased to see the girls start talking about him, too, whispering and covering their mouths to giggle.

He was so delighted that he straightened his back even more, making his chubby little belly stick out prominently.

Soon, he swaggered up to Jean and taunted, "Felix Ford, why is there a turtle on your back? Are you admitting you’re a scumbag?"

After his big reveal, he glanced around smugly, failing to notice the strange looks everyone was giving him.

He laughed boisterously, waiting for Jean to become a laughingstock. But Jean just lazily lifted his eyelids, his gaze filled with undisguised disdain. "Is that so?" he said lightly. "Let’s see who the real turtle is."

The boys were taken aback, not understanding what he meant.

Finally, someone nearby couldn’t take it anymore and asked, "Charlie King, why do you guys have pictures of turtles on your backs?"

Charlie King was Paddy’s full name.

The boy next to him was the first to react. He instinctively glanced at Paddy’s back and, sure enough, there was a sticker. They all looked at each other and discovered that every single one of them had one.

Paddy stared at the turtle drawing, thought about how he’d been strutting around just moments before, then looked at the people pointing and talking about him. He froze completely.

Three seconds later, he let out a "WAAAAH!" and burst into tears, crying at the top of his lungs.

Jean Vance casually cleaned out his ear. ’Tsk, what a pair of lungs.’