My friends

"You were right" my older faced child said randomly as he skipped down the stairs.  My friend who's eyes get wet sometimes.  My friend that was embarrassed when he farted in class.  My friend who often wears the same clothes to school day after day.  My sweet boy from the projects that I just want to protect and help and guide. 
"About what?"
"About that thing you said before, about Kimmie" Tyrone responded with a head nod and sideways tilt. He had a swagger to him.
"Oh my God!  You like her!  I knew it!"
Tyrone winked and nodded and ran down the stairs.
Fourth grade romance.  I am normally disgusted by such things, by Tyrone has exquisite taste.  Beautiful, smart Vietnamese girl with purple streaks in her hair that is nice to everyone.  A girl that is not from his neighborhood, culture, race or style-aesthetic, that he is charmed by and sees no reason why he shouldn't be.  

I like it.

I drove to school in the daylight. Since the time change, I can see the neighbors.  I watch for the woman in the hot pink bathrobe that stands outside of our district next to the busy road, making sure her kids get on the bus that goes to a place that is not as nice as mine.

The doorway and stairwell smelled like a big fart.  That was the last thing I was going to mention to my principal on a Monday morning.
"It smells like someone pooped in an air vent" Bailey said in passing.  
Oliver turned his head sideways and looked up at me, giggly smile on his face, which was about two inches from mine.
"Me gusta pollo" the first line of his Haiku read.
"Me gusta bistec" the third line of his Haiku read.
Oh but the middle line, the tricky one, the one with seven syllables.
"Oliver, tell me one type of food that makes you really happy".
"Ice cream.  Strawberry ice cream".
I counted the syllables.  Helado.  Helado me hace feliz.  Fuck.  Too many syllables.
"Okay, maybe a different food".
"Blood" he said flatly.
"Oliver, gross!"  his para-pro and I called out in unison.
He looked confused.
"Oliver, you are going to keep us up at night.  Eating blood!" I said, laughing.  His face turned upward a little more, with the giggle smile intact.
"Steak.  Steak makes me happy".
"Juicy.  It juicy.  Red."
"Oliver!  You like your steak red in the middle".
"Yes.  Wet.  It taste good".
"I'm sorry Oliver.  I didn't understand.  You like your steak with a little blood in the middle".
"Yes".
"It tastes good".
"Yes".
"I like mine that way too".

Tyrone was crying.
"So, I sat next to her in lunch, and I asked her if she wanted to be my friend.  She said no".
He shoved his face down, eyes flickering.

"She said no".