Children were circling around on the far side of the school yard, and she quickened her steps as their shrill childish chant reached her ears. "Ain't got no momma, ain't got no poppa...ain't got nobody."

She quickly moved across the yard. "Children!" Her stern voice gave them pause as they all turned as one to look at her. "Your recess is over as of now! Go inside. Now all of you," she ordered, pointing to the building. "You'd better be sitting at your desks quietly when I get there!"

With a few guilty expressions they obeyed, leaving one lone child standing by himself. Floppy fair hair, dark rimmed glasses, too large obviously hand-me-downs, he stood defiantly staring after the other children.

"Danny..." she began.

"Daniel," he corrected her stubbornly. Only Mom and Dad could call him Danny and they were gone now, so no one else had the right to call him that.

"Okay...Daniel," she gave him a small sad smile. "Were they picking on you again?" Something about the quiet, somber-faced new kid on the school yard just seemed to draw the unwanted attention of the bullies. It was the third time this week alone she had caught them picking on this child.

He shrugged. "When they pick on me, they're leaving someone else alone," he admitted with knowledge far beyond his young years.

"But you don't have to put up with it. That's why the teachers are out here," she pointed out.

"It's only words," the little boy responded, staring at her with large blue eyes.

'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.' The childish rhyme danced in her mind as she saw the unvoiced sadness in the blue depths.

It seemed every school year one student out of all those she taught touched her heart and this year, it was this one. This Daniel. This somber-faced, quiet, hurting little boy who had so recently lost both his parents in a tragic accident. Brought in by temporary foster parents to register for the school year, she had somehow been drawn to his silent heartbreak. The teacher had recognized the temporary parents as ones who shuffled children about like a deck of cards and she couldn't help but wonder how much this little one had endured in the short time he had been with them

She came back to the present, "But words do hurt, Daniel, even when you think they don't."

"Dad says..." he paused, pain flickering in his eyes as he carefully corrected himself. "Dad said name calling was just a way to make up for your own inadequacies."

She hid a small smile. "He was right." The teacher hesitated then softly questioned, "You really miss him, don't you? And your Mom?"

He looked away, his lower lip quivering, then straightened and looked up at her. Biting his lip to stop the trembling, he slowly nodded.

She reached out to lay a gentle hand on his too thin shoulder. "I hope if you need someone to talk to, about anything, you'll think of me."

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

The teacher marveled at the totally adult tone in his young voice. "Because, besides being your teacher, I hope we can be friends."

With a suspicious expression, he repeated, "Why?"

She ducked her head surprised he would question her. Sighing softly as she looked down at him, "Because you look like you could use one about now."

The little boy studied the ground, rubbing his worn tennis shoe toe in the dust. After a long moment he spoke softly. "You don't have to be my friend. Just..." he swallowed hard, "just don't laugh at me."

Her eyes clouded at the quiet plea. "Why would I do that, Daniel?"

His sad blue eyes met her dark puzzled gaze. "Because everyone else does."

Her heart broke as she stared at his grown up demeanor, pointing out the obvious to her. No one this young should have to be so old. Fleetingly she wished her own son, away at college could be so mature. Slowly, she sank down on one knee to be on his level. Reaching out she placed her hands on small shoulders that already seemed to carry the weight of the world, and looked him full in the face. "I'm not everyone else, Daniel," she whispered. "I'm not."

He stared into her face with intense blue eyes. For half a heartbeat, she felt as if he were trying to reach her soul and after a long moment, a tiny ghost of a smile touched his lips. "No, Mrs. O'Neill, I don't think you are."