It was dusk when he first began to walk. Already, this had been a day filled with happiness. His pace quickened and he was soon running. Running with the exuberance that only a fourteen year old boy can feel. The blocks sped by and his eyes roamed everywhere. The sky blanketed with stars, the houses alongside the street in which he ran, dogs barking as he ran by.........all these sounds and sights he felt on a level he couldn't even begin to understand.

He was barefooted. A T-shirt and an old pair of jeans were his only clothing. He had no particular destination and he had only one reason for running. Life was good and he felt he would burst with happiness if he couldn't burn some of the energy that consumed him. He picked up the pace and was now running as though the devil himself was behind him.

As he ran through the section of town known as "Little Italy", there were sidewalks on either side of the street. As he entered the section of town where only Negros lived, the sidewalks disappeared and he moved to the center of the street. There might have been faces at windows he passed, but if there were, he didn't see them. On and on, he ran. Barking dogs, faces at windows.........none of these mattered to him. Only two thoughts managed to force themselves past the steady slap, slap of his bare feet hitting the asphalt of the streets of this small town. He was alive and he was the happiest person on the face of the earth.

Finally, the burning in his chest and legs forced him to slow to a walk again. He was within sight of the city limits sign when he stopped walking and sank to the ground alongside the highway leading out of town. Gradually the oxygen starved muscles in his legs began to come alive again and he stood and turned back toward the town. This past year had been a wonderful one. For the first time since he couldn't remember when, he had finally found a place where he belonged. Nine schools in the last eight years. Eight different towns his family had settled in, only to move on within the year. Now, it was over.........he had a real home at last.

He began to walk and quickly changed to a jog, then was running full out. Past the high school, alongside the riverbank and on into the small business section of town, he ran. The steady slap, slap of his bare feet, the only sound in a town that went to sleep so soon after dark.

He had made the honor roll this year. Straight "A"s in every subject. He had made the track team and the junior varsity in football. The coach had told him he might have a chance at the varsity next year if he continued to grow and put on weight during the summer. He slowed to a walk again and took in great gulps of air as he continued on to the far end of town.

He even had a girlfriend.......well, sort of a girlfriend. He had taken Cindy to the movie in town twice now. The last time, she had held his hand and had kissed him goodnight when he dropped her off at her house. God, Cindy was pretty. He winced when he remembered how their teeth had clacked against each other when he returned her kiss. He would do better the next time. He had relived that kiss a thousand times since last weekend.

School was out for the summer. Just this afternoon, he had attended the last class for the year. He was a junior now......or would be when he returned to school in the fall. He sank to the ground when he reached the far end of town and rested there for a few minutes. Getting to his feet, he turned and started back the way he had come. He was back in the middle of the street now. He picked up the pace gradually and was soon running at full speed again. God, it was great to be alive and have everything a young man could possibly want. The steady slap, slap of his bare feet drew faces to windows as he ran on through his little town.

He was walking again. Taking deep breaths that seemed to seer his lungs. He was remembering the fight at the beginning of the year. Eddie Sharman was a bully, no question about that. Eddie had singled him out the second day during lunch. Taunts had turned into a shoving match. It was Eddie who had thrown the first punch. Two skinny teenage boys now forced into a serious fight by their peers who quickly formed a circle with chants of "Fight, fight".

Eddie had the bully instinct to motivate him. The younger boy was driven by a desperate desire to belong. Lunge and swing, claw, bite and swing again. The fight was over almost before it started. Eddie lay on the ground with his hands over his head. "I give, I give".........the fight was over. He picked up the pace again. Slap, slap.....arms pumping........head high......running just for joy.......the joy of being alive and finally belonging. Funny how things worked out. Eddie was his best friend now. Tomorrow, they would be going fishing together at old Jim's pond. Fishing at old Jim's pond was a rite of passage hereabouts.

It was after ten when he walked up to his front door. Even as the door closed behind him, he knew. His father was already asleep in the easy chair. An empty bottle of bourbon was in his father's lap. His mother was folding linens and putting them in one of many empty boxes that had appeared from nowhere.

"Nooooooooo........mother, nooooo!" In his mind, he was screaming the words. From his mouth, the words were only a pitious moan. "Your father has a new job, son. It's an important job, the best one he has ever had. We looked at the house yesterday. It's almost twice the size of this one and you will have a huge back yard to play in. You won't be living in a small town like this one. You'll be living in the state capital. You'll have dozens of movies to choose from, parks to play in, new friends to make..........accept it, son. Things are going to be so much better."

He wasn't a young man now. He was a little boy. A little boy who had no control of where his life was going. A little boy who was reliving a nightmare that never seemed to end. He turned away and started up the stairs to his room. The screaming in his head died away and something inside him seemed to die with it.

He opened his closet door and pulled out an empty box. He began to clear out his closet. Jackets, shoes and books were dumped into the box without reguard to either neatness or sequence. He moved to his desk and pulled the box along with him. One sweep of his hand cleared the desk. A slip of paper fluttered to the floor as he did so. He kicked the piece of paper under the desk and closed the box.

He pulled another empty box from the closet. The chest of drawers was next. The box was quickly filled with socks, underwear and shirts. His bookcase was last. Paperback books he had bought with his allowance, hard cover books he had received as Christmas and birthday gifts........all were thrown haphazardly into the box. He pushed the two boxes back into the closet. There were two boxes already there. Boxes filled with small treasures he hadn't dared to open since they had moved here a year ago. Boxes he would have been opening in the coming weeks.

He closed the closet door and undressed. He left the dirty clothes where they fell and climbed into bed. Nearly an hour passed as he lay there. He heard noises from downstairs. He heard his mother and father climb the stairs and walk to their room. He heard his father stumble and curse just before their door opened, then closed. Another hour passed before he slid out from under the covers and dropped to his knees.

With outstretched hands, he moved to his desk. Sweeping his hands back and forth over the carpet, he found the slip of paper and crawled back to bed. He needed no light to read the words on the slip of paper. The words were burned into his brain. Cindy had passed this slip of paper to him just before the final bell rang this afternoon. She had blushed and run before he even had time to read what she had written.

"I think I love you" were the words she had written on the slip of paper. The young man/little boy clutched the paper tightly in his hand. He had never wanted much in this life. Just to belong somewhere...........to someone. He refused to allow himself to cry. Young men don't cry............only little boys do that.