The house was small and cheap, and, like an idiot, he didn’t pay attention to much else about it. He found it, bought it, and moved in early that summer. There were thick willows lining his back fence, so he didn’t notice what was hidden behind them. The rest of the neighborhood seemed quiet, being a dead-end street without much traffic. He didn’t own all that much furniture, or anything else for that matter, so he was settled in quickly. He didn’t discover the problem until the Monday after Labor Day.
At 7 a.m., he awakened to a loud, ringing bell, like an old-fashioned alarm clock but deeper and coming from behind his house. His head cleared enough then to hear the chorus of high-pitched voices shouting and screaming. Kids. Kids? And a lot of them. He expected maybe seeing one or two on his street (and was quite happy that he hadn’t so far). But this sounded like hundreds, thousands, millions! All in his backyard. There were few things that annoyed him more than kids. They annoyed him enough for him to be a 47-year-old bachelor. And, what he hated most was all their yelling and screaming and crying. And, like an idiot, he just bought a house with a school in the backyard.
He threw off his covers, got out of bed and slammed down both of his bedroom windows. Getting dressed was just a matter of tossing on a pair of sweatpants. Coffee started, he went out to hunt for the morning paper, likely in a bush in his front yard. If there were no puddles around, that’s where it usually wound up. Today, remarkably, it was on his driveway.
Out of nowhere, a tiny, red-haired girl came up to him, maybe a second or third grader. “Mister, I’m lost!” it sniveled, breath catching in a sob. “I can’t find my new school and I’m late!” A frown formed on his face and was reflected in the expression in her eyes, which were of a deep brown and red from crying. Tears streaked her face, running down her cheeks which were already overrun with freckles. Her eyes were too big and too close together and her nose was too small. Even if he liked kids, he probably wouldn’t be able to say she was cute. Her dress hung on her like it was a hand-me-down and on her feet were department store tennis shoes, once white but sullied by a summer of running around. “It’s Sidney Stone Elementary,” she added hopefully. “Do you know where it is?”
He figured that was the source of all the noise behind his house, which had quieted down shortly after the annoying bell. “Yeah, it’s back there somewhere,” he said, signaling with his thumb toward the back of his house and then turning back towards his door.
“Wait!” came her pleading voice from behind him. “How can I get there?”
“Hmph! Just keep going that way and turn left somewhere.”
“I’m scared and I’m late, mister. Can you go with me and show me?”
He seethed, but she kept looking at him, shuddering now and then with a quiet sob. “Please?” she pleaded.
He didn’t say anything, but he started walking in the direction he pointed. He had no idea why, but it felt easier than walking away and having a crying kid outside his house. Then again, she didn’t just follow him, she ran up beside him.
“I’m Marjorie. We just moved here from Hapsfield. What’s your name?”
He felt the best response would be “Shut up and just walk,” he surprised himself when he said, “Sam.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sam. I really mean it!”
“Sam. Just Sam. Nobody calls me mister.”
“Okay, …Sam”
He heard what almost sounded like a quick giggle. He couldn’t believe the kid recovered that fast. He remembered that the handkerchief in is back pocket was clean, so he fished it out and handed it to her, with just a quick glance down so she wouldn’t think he was being nice.
“Thank you.” At least the kid was polite. She wiped her eyes and face and blew her nose. She fumbled with it unsuccessfully, trying to fold it back up for him.
“Don’t worry about it.” He took it from her and stuffed it back in his pocket.
“Lived here a long time?” she asked.
He wanted a conversation less than he did a morning walk before he had his coffee. “Nah. Just moved here last summer.” And to avoid the next likely question, “From North Wilkes.”
“I know where that is! Do you have any kids my age? I don’t have any friends here yet.”
“Nope. No kids of any age.”
“Oh, too bad. I bet they’d be as nice as you if you did.”
He couldn’t help smiling and letting a chuckle escape. This kid was no judge of character.
Out of nowhere, he assured her, “You’ll find lots of friends at school.”
“I hope so. At my last school, not a lot of kids were nice.”
She looked to him to be the type who got bullied a lot. (He knew the kind he was a target, too, when he was her age.)
“Yeah. That happens.”
“I know! You can be my friend. You’re nice!” and suddenly he felt some small, warm fingers grab his hand.
He cursed to himself, but let her hold it, anyway. What annoyed him even more was when he realized he was smiling a little.