Marisol and the Golden Heart Award

Chapter 1: A girl in old clothes wins the school’s kindness award, and the “fashionable” kids learn what really matters

Marisol Vega wore the same blue sweater to school three days a week.

It was soft from washing, with a small darned patch on one elbow and cuffs that had once belonged to her older cousin. Her sneakers were scuffed white at the toes, and her backpack had a zipper that stuck unless you jiggled it just so.

She didn't mind much. Her mother worked long shifts at the hospital laundry, and the family counted every coin carefully. Marisol knew that clothes were for keeping warm, and she was thankful to have them.

But at Larkspur Elementary, clothes seemed to mean something more.

In Marisol's fifth-grade class, a group of kids led by a girl named Sloane Whitaker had made themselves the judges of what was cool. Sloane arrived each morning in brand-new jackets with famous logos, glittering hair clips, and shoes so white they looked like they'd never touched a sidewalk. Her friends, Preston, Delaney, and Quinn, dressed almost the same way and walked in a little cluster, whispering.

"Is that the same sweater again?" Delaney would murmur when Marisol passed.

"Maybe she only owns one," giggled Quinn.

Marisol heard. She always heard. She kept her chin up and her eyes on the floor, and she pretended it didn't sting.

At lunch, she sat at the end of a long table, unwrapping a simple sandwich. But she noticed things the fashionable kids never seemed to.

She noticed when a first-grader dropped his tray, and she hurried over to help. She noticed when Mr. Abbott, the custodian, was hauling a heavy bin, and she held the door. She noticed a boy named Theo, who was new and shy, sitting alone with his hands in his lap, and she scooted over and said, "Want to sit here?"