A Heart of Gold

Chapter 13

"Who's the new guy?"

On his first day, lots of little eyes looked expectedly at Harry, who returned their stare but with an added touch of fear.

Shifting awkwardly on his big feet he turned to look at me with a slight shake of his head, doubtful and doe-eyed, like a nervous kindergartener facing his new class for the first time.

To an outsider, I know what goes on in here looks overwhelming. 30 noisy kids of all ages, some sitting calmly and some not all around the large cafeteria. Eating or throwing snacks, playing made-up games or board games, on laptops getting or resisting homework help.

Its organized chaos at its finest.

Harry stood and surveyed this scene, but did not move.

Taking a deep breath and signaling for him to do the same, I steered him by his elbow around the room. I introduced him to everyone while explaining how the group rotations work, the check in and dismissal procedures and some of the house rules.

"For example," I explained loudly over a table of snacking girls who had wrappers strewn all over, "we ALWAYS clean up after ourselves." pointing to the large trash can in the corner. Two of them rolled their eyes but they all got up and cleaned the table.

Standing over another boy bent over and pecking at the keyboard of a laptop, I pulled his hand away and gave it a once-over with a wipe. "And we also make sure our hands are CLEAN when we use the computers that were so generously donated to us." He gave me a sheepish shrug and went back to his pecking.

Harry's nerves lasted all of 15 minutes. By the time we made our way back to the beginning, he was breathing normally again and his color had returned. Our attention was pulled to a small tousle brewing among a group of boys arguing over the rules of a game. He went, inserted himself in the circle, said something that made them all laugh and rolled the dice. When play resumed, he turned to me with a wink and a thumbs-up.

"Oh, that's just Harry."

I am brought back to the present by a hiss of "Yesss!" To my right, Victor smiles wide and clenches his fists, shaking them above his head. He has finally mastered a sizable stack of multiplication flash cards, earning him a high-five from Lina and a smile from me.

We all have settled into a solid routine over these past few weeks and it feels like Harry has always been a part of our days.

The kids who aren't from my class had funny reactions to him. A few were unimpressed. A few others knew One Direction and that he was 'the one with the long hair.' Some wanted to know if he had any fancy cars, some wanted his autograph. Most were curious about his accent, watching him carefully when he spoke, the way they might observe a unique animal on display at the zoo. But now, all of them want Harry to sit and play with them, to show him their artwork or have him referee their games.

It melts my heart to watch all of this, and I know he feels the same. He loves that he can be himself here and be loved for it. He's just Harry. My hope for him being here is that he feels that he is more in touch with the real world, like he's been craving. And I can't complain about our "guaranteed date" three times a week.

Scanning the cafeteria, my eyes fall to Harry painting a dog on a canvas with Isabel. She is concentrating, her little fingers curled and white around her brush and Harry is teasing her by trying to dab paint on her cheeks with his brush. She swats at him with her free hand without taking her eyes off of her work.

I've finished sorting the clothes that Lina brought, a box full of extras from her closet and those of her friends. I stretch, then run my fingers absently through her smooth hair.