Every afternoon, when it was time to pack up, Ms. Alvarez said the same thing. “Backpacks, folders, jackets.” Nora packed that way too. Backpack first. Folder second. Jacket last.

Today, at the end of the day, Ms. Alvarez clapped her hands once. “Jackets, backpacks, folders.”

Nora looked up. Nora stayed seated for one extra second.

Jackets first.

Her jacket was hanging on the back of her chair. She put it on. The sleeves still felt warm. Backpacks next. Her backpack was under her desk. The zipper was open from lunch. She pulled it shut. Folders last. Her homework folder was in the second slot. She took it out and slid it into the backpack.

“Line up,” Ms. Alvarez said.

Nora stood and walked to the line. Usually she ended up behind Priya. Today she ended up in front of her.

Priya looked up. “You’re early,” she said.

“Ms. Alvarez said it different,” Nora said.

Priya nodded once. They walked to the door.

At dismissal, Nora opened her backpack for the bus line. The folder was on top of the jacket sleeve.

She moved it back.

.