The broom falls from the first boy's hands with an explosive sound. Yishai remains in his chair, crying softly, his ears still red from the tugging. One of his classmates looks at him sadly. The teacher comes closer, standing tall above him, with her hand resting on his shoulder.
TEACHER (sensitively)
Hey, student, is everything okay?
YISHAI (through tears)
Yes, yes.
EXT. DAY. ON THE WAY HOME FROM SCHOOL.
Yishai, the son of the prophet, walks home after school. The street is quite empty due to the heavy heat. A section of the sidewalk is under renovation, with pies of sand and stones are scattered on the side of an open and shallow sandbank. Suddenly, two older children from sixth grade appear a few meters behind Yishai.
A CHILD FROM SIXTH GRADE (defiantly)
Hey! Prophet!
Yishai freezes for a second, then turns his head to see who is calling him.
CHILD (threateningly)
Hey! Can't you hear when people talk to you?