How Sweet It Is - Alice J. Wisler [38]
“Wow,” says Dougy. “Miss Livingston even has Band-Aids with food on them!”
I smile in spite of the situation. Then I clean up the blood that dots the cutting board and knife. I don’t know what else to do. I want to hug Charlotte, but I notice Darren is glaring at me from his perch at the back of the room.
I suppose I should have offered a course in basic knife skills before allowing one of the students to use a knife in the kitchen. What was I thinking? These kids usually eat at McDonalds; they’ve probably never had cause to use a sharp knife before.
Zack tells the kids to get back in their chairs. Looking at me, he says, “It’s going to be fine.”
That is his standard reply to everything.
No one wants salad now, so we continue to make sure that Charlotte is going to be fine. She’s enjoying all the attention, and I think to myself that she deserves it. She’s had a rough day, and from what I’ve heard, her life’s been no slice of apple pie.
nineteen
As I store the salad in the fridge and then fill the sink to wash the dishes after class, I gaze out the kitchen window. Zack, dressed in shorts and a blue T-shirt, plays basketball with the guys and Lisa. Rainy, Charlotte, and Joy are on the sidelines. Charlotte is still getting lots of attention due to her wounded finger. Earlier, I watched Darren open the door for her when the group charged outside.
Lisa grabs the ball Zack gently tosses to her. The other girls cheer. Lisa flies down the court, her long brown hair swaying. Bobby sticks his fleshy abdomen at her, forcing her to stop. She looks for Zack, who is being blocked by Bubba, although it is hard for any five-foot-tall kid weighing approximately ninety-two pounds to really guard a man over six feet tall. As Lisa throws the ball to Zack, Darren tears down the court, snatches it out of the air, and rushes toward the other basket for a shot. The cheering section goes wild. In spite of Zack’s attempts, Darren scores two points. Bobby and Darren slap a high five.
How easy it is for Zack to reach these kids. He’s such a natural. Darren smiles when he’s with him. Darren has never smiled at me. The kid is like a splinter in my finger. I want to make him carry slop for the pigs until his arms wear out and then see if he’ll be too tired to irritate me with his defiant words. Zack must have opened up his own soul and let Jesus pour in the fruits of the spirit—all that patience, kindness, and joy. He oozes with every one of those on the basketball court. I know that he knows about each child’s history—how they were bruised or abandoned by their parents. Clearly, he is familiar with every child’s likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. It is his job.
Two days ago, when he had to break up a fight between Darren and Dougy, he asked if I’d like to hear more about the children’s histories. I sucked in some air and said, “I really couldn’t.” I didn’t explain any more than that.
When they fight with each other, he knows how to command that they stop it and find a better way to resolve their issues. After the fight between Dougy and Darren, he had the boys write an essay on what they could offer to others around them.
“You mean like money?” asked Dougy. “Cuz I don’t got none of that.” His face was sweaty, and he kept wiping it with the collar of his shirt.
“No,” said Zack. “Things money can’t buy.”
“Ah,” said Dougy, as though a lightbulb had flickered on inside his head. “Priceless things. Like on the MasterCard commercial?”
“Exactly. It’s about who you are as a person. What can you give others?”
Darren started writing, using the same notebook he uses for his drawings. Dougy licked the tip of his pen and got to work. The two boys who had been hitting each other minutes earlier were now calmly contained in chairs, adhering to Zack’s assignment.
If the word peace-magnet appeared in the dictionary, the