Room for the Mango Wool

Jun was six, and the youngest fox in his family. At home, his bedroom had a low bed, a crooked bookshelf, and a little wooden tray for things he wanted to keep. He had already chosen a place on it for the weaving he would make at school. He imagined a small blanket for his toy fox.

At the school craft table, his friend Mia slid wool over and under the strings of a cardboard loom. Her paws seemed to know where to go. Jun chose a strand of wool the colour of mango. It lay across his paw, soft and bright. He threaded it through, then pulled hard to make his row neat. The strings drew together. His weaving bunched into a tight, crooked pinch.

"I can't do it," Jun said. He pushed the loom away, and his elbow knocked the wool onto the floor. His cheeks felt hot. He was frustrated with the weaving and embarrassed beside Mia's smooth rows. Everyone can see I don't know how, he thought. When his teacher, Mrs Lee, came over, he kept looking at his paws. "Do some paws just never learn?"