Darius

Quiet. Shy. He has the cautious hope of a boy who is often picked on. His eyes fit perfectly into his face behind his glasses. They give him the appearance of being much older than he is.

"There's a boy behind the tree...crying." Her nonchalant expression tells me she had seen many tears in her seven or eight years. She cares enough to tell me, but not enough to care. Turning the corner of the building, I can hear him. Now circling the tree, I follow the edges of the roots with my heals and watch the tree revolve, waiting to see who it is. I'm not expecting anyone in particular, but I'm certainly not expecting to see the sun glint off of glasses. I see his helmet as I stand above him, round and scratched up along with the knee, elbow, and wrist pads that accompany the huge roller blades on his feet. It isn't until I get down on my knees and sit next to him that I can see how upset he is. "You okay?" Pointless question, but they're words to say and he responds to them. "They got me wet. I hate getting wet." Words spoken through a wet nose and shaky breath. "I'm sorry..." "I told them I don't like getting wet." Inconsolable. We sit silent.

The parade goes by to blaring country music. The fire truck, misting most and soaking a select few, blissfully cool in the ever present sun. Next a van with a poster taped to it about a suport system ofr domestic violence. Next, the same for diabeties prevention. Following them comes someone who decided they wanted to join the parade because they had nothing better to do. I see the sun glint off of glassess and see the roller blades. He's following one of the vans and chatting with a friend until he sees us, fourteen white people in a line of native faces. It's the first time I see his smile, radiant under his waving arm. "Hey you church people!" "Hey!" "You back?" "We sure are! Will you be there today?" "Oh yeah! MY GOD IS SO BIG, SO STRONG AND SO MIGHTY THERE'S NOTHING MY GOD CANNOT DO...FOR YOU!" As he gets further away, his voice doesn't fade, but grows louder. Faces turn and look, immediately puzzled by the white sunburned faces the words are directed towards. I don't look to see who sees.

Gone a whole week. Finally back. Children running everywhere, jumping out of their skins. My arms are filled with bodies, one after another. My chin on so many heads. Names trip out of my mouth. I know I only get to use them for four more days. Glasses. A smile, but such a different energy coming from it, unidentifiable until a ball is in his hands and then in another boy's face. Destruction. A desire to be anti-matter. Creating hadn't helped. relationships had gotten him nowhere. He gave up. The violence built up, getting stronger and stronger until the four-square ball was rocks and faces were targets.

All I can hear as I watch them holding his hands, trying to protect the other children is "MY GOD IS SO BIG, SO STRONG AND SO MIGHTY, THERE'S NOTHING MY GOD CANNOT DO!"