Todd had something to prove. I don't know what he was proving, but I still believe that he thinks that he proved it...whatever it was. "Go ahead Carrie, make my semester" yelled Todd as he hurled himself from the top of the de-railed train car which was parked next to the baseball field adjacent to Vista Elementary school. The funny thing, I thought, was that Carrie had nothing to do with Todd's prior woes-- she was just walking by, and looked up as Todd called her name (I seriously doubt that she had ever seen that particular Clint Eastwood movie that Todd so aptly adjusted for his situation). Not only had Carrie NOT dared him, but no one had dared him to jump off the car. If I ever see Todd again, I will be sure and ask him what he was thinking.
Ten minutes earlier, Billy and I had watched Todd pass through the school-grounds gate, and climb the back of the red train car, which put him 15 ft above ground. The bell had already sounded, calling all of the sixth graders back to class, but Todd would not come down, and he started attracting a crowd. After a while, the crowed got bored and left, leaving Todd, me, Billy, and the unknowing passerby Carrie who was unwillingly thrust into this story.

I couldn't help but think about the day before. Todd had brought a brand-new Nerf football to school and the "cool" kids had made friends with him just long enough to take his treasured orange football. The end result was not pretty: Todd running around as the cool kids played keepaway. Even sadder was the fact that the cute, popular girls started getting in on the fun, laughing and participating as Todd flailed his arms searching for that soft, calming possession that he longed to have. When he finally got the ball, he hugged it, closed his eyes, and went right into the fetal position. I was reading Lord of the Rings at the time, and I couldn't help but equate Todd's plight to that of Gollum. Billy and I tried to help, and we actually talked the cool kids into "losing interest," but the cute girls formed a circle yelling at him to give them the ball back. Billy and I weren't interested in mixing it up with the cute "scooter girls." (They all had scooters that they peddled to school, and everyone thought that they were movie stars--it would have been death to the little bit of popularity that we had). It ended with the head scooter girl Melanie kicking Todd in the stomach, and when Todd would not give up, she left, along with the other school girls talking about how "strange" that boy was. I thought it was sad that in such a small class the girls didn't even know his name. Todd was not the same after that--at least not until he proved himself the next day.
Things seemed to pass in slow motion as Todd fell from that car. He seemed very relaxed, and I thought I saw a smile on his face. That all ended as he landed, and his body contorted violently in a cloud of dust. I though he was dead. As Billy and I started running toward him, and Carrie started running away, he stood up. He was dirty and hurt, but he had a smile which hinted to a sense of accomplishment. Billy and I grabbed a hold of him, dusted him off, and helped him as he limped back to class.
Todd proved himself. I will ask him what he was proving next time I see him.

--Justin