When I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class
walking home from school. His name was Kyle. He looked as if
he was carrying all his books.
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As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running towards him.
They ran into him, knocking him down and causing all his books
to fly out of his arms. His glasses went flying and I saw them
land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and
I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to
him. Hence, I jogged over to him and tried to help him as he
crawled around looking for his glasses with a tear in his eye.
There was a big smile on his face.
It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books and asked him where he lived. It turns out that he lived near me so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to a private school previously. That was when I realized I had never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home and I helped carried some of his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I invited him to play a little football with my friends and he agreed.
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We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the
more I liked him. He was equally popular with my friends. When
Monday morning came, I saw Kyle with a huge stack of books again.
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