Tully's my classroom buddy. He's not loud. He doesn't buzz or flash or beep. He just sits with us on the softest rug ever — our Tranquil Tundra Dot Grid. It's full of peaceful colors: icy blue, mint green, and soft gray. It kinda feels like a snow day in a cozy sweater.

Tully wears this soft green sweater too. And boots — always boots. He always has a little notebook with a leaf on it. I think it's where he keeps his best thoughts.

And I am.

Sometimes our teacher says, "Let's find our focus dots," and everyone picks a spot. Some kids zoom around looking. Some fidget. Some can't decide between the blue and the green.

But I watch Tully. He always knows exactly where to go. He picks the gray dot in the corner, closes his eyes, and breathes.

I do it too.

Then I open my eyes and feel like I'm ready for anything.

One day I had a rough morning. My backpack zipper got stuck, and I cried in the hallway. Not a big cry — just the kind where your face goes hot and you feel smaller than usual.

But when I got to class, I sat next to Tully on a blue dot. I didn't say anything. He didn't either.

He just looked at me with his little smile — the kind that doesn't ask any questions — and opened his notebook to a fresh page.

Later, I peeked.

I read it three times. Then I put it back, exactly the way I found it, with the leaf facing up.

By the time the lesson started, I felt better. Not fixed — just held. Like the rug was holding me too, all those soft colors underneath.