He walks into the school as if it were a normal day, but stops once inside the door to realize his surroundings.
Every inch of the school is covered in handprints - some big, some small, most overlapping but never overshadowing. He comes to me and sees my palms are painted: one yellow and the other green. He asks me what's going on and I tell him everyone else has put their handprints on the school.
"Why haven't you?"
Frantically he searches the building for paint, but everyone is out. He is exhausted and angry for not having been told of the event.
He sees her in Hoffman's room, with a bucket of black paint. She offers him the paint, which he greedily takes. Proud of himself for solving the problem, he searches the school walls, ceilings, and floors for a blank spot....and none of the other handprints are black. Finally, he finds a spot and puts two black handprints on the wall - a bold statement, he decides.
But when he goes to the sink to wash his hands of the black paint, it doesn't smudge. Worried, he runs to her and myself. She nods and says that's how it's supposed to be.
Everyone else, though, joins me in mocking him for his permanently black hands. He runs down to the football field in shame and collapses on the green grass.
Suddenly, a group of white doves peck away at his hands until they disappear. The doves fly away with no remorse fo the pain they caused him.
Lying there, his hands begin to grow back, his palms cleansed from the haunting black. He runs back to the school in excitement and shows his clean hands to us all. We are taken aback but she holds out to him a bucket of red paint. He grabs it and hurries back to his vulgar black prints.
As he approaches, though, he finds they've disappeared entirely. Full of excitement, he dips his hands into the red and puts his hands on the wall, finally understanding what she had wanted for him.
