The Kiln Shelf Mix-Up
On the last day of pottery class, Mr. Okafor opened the enormous kiln, and the whole room leaned in to see what the fire had done. Inside sat twenty glazed bowls. Wen found hers immediately, but it was supposed to be sea green, and it had come out a muddy brown, with a drip of blue running down one side.
"That's not mine," said Wen. "Mine was green."
Across the table, Dalia was holding a bowl that was bright, glossy green, and she was frowning at it. "This one has my initial scratched on the bottom," she said, "but I remember painting mine brown."
They looked at each other. Wen had painted green, and Dalia had painted brown. Somehow, the labels on the glaze jars had been switched, and each girl had carefully used the wrong color.
"We both wanted what the other one got," Wen said slowly.
Dalia turned her brown bowl in her hands. Under the classroom lights, the blue drip glowed like a river winding down a hillside. "Honestly, mine is kind of beautiful," she said.
"Mine too," said Wen. She hugged the green one. "But this one is exactly what I wanted."
They solved the problem in the simplest possible way. Wen traded for the green bowl, and Dalia kept her brown one. At home, Wen put it on a windowsill, and every time the sun touched it, she thought about how a mistake had helped the right bowl find the right person.