Young

“Kind of slow but harmless. Essentially a really sweet kid.” That’s what Mrs. Johnson, the Park Activities Director, said to anyone who asked why sixteen-year-old Billy Williams hung around with little kids instead of with his peers. Whenever we were at the park, Billy was around, helping with crafts, instigating water-balloon fights, teaching us how to spin the four-square ball, bouncing it just inside the lines and then out so that it was impossible to return. The boys thought he was cool; Billy could spit further than anyone and could nearly take the cover off the softball when he hit it with his bat. His dog, Knocker, would happily perform trick after trick for us, dancing on his hind legs, sitting pretty, playing dead. The girls, myself included, all thought Billy was dreamy with his …

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