The boy in the red shirt just wants to be alone. There isn't anything wrong with him; he isn't sad. Nothing happened. He just can't handle being around other people right now.
Me too kid, I think to myself. I'm sitting outside the building, staring into the swimming pool. He sees me and sits down fifteen feet from me. He copies the way I'm sitting. I notice and smile at him softly. He looks about ten.
I can't handle being social right now. There isn't anything wrong with me, either. I just need time to myself. People think I'm upset. I'm not.
I supposed I should have seen this coming: a few minutes after the boy steps outside, two of his counselors come to see what's wrong. They ask him if something happened. They don't see me at first, but after they do, they tell the boy that I'm about to go inside too. I realize that I'm going to have to make an example of myself so the boy will get up. Children--of course--cannot be trusted to sit alone calmly. They might wander into the pool and drown.
I sigh and stand up. The counselors gasp with exaggerated surprise and get the boy to stand. I walk back in too. The building is empty upon my return. I'm late for the next event, then.
