Jim Bobby

I've lived in Cleveland my whole life. My parents were born in Winnipeg, Canada. My dad died a few years ago. Cleveland is not as good as my parents hoped. My dad was killed by a drive-by shooting. We, my mom and I, might go to live in Canada. Before I found the garden, I'd want that, but now, I'm happy here.

We found out about the garden a few weeks ago on the way to school. Okay, well, to be honest, I knew about it before. I've passed it every day since it started. My mom doesn't know that, though, which is fine by me. I don't like those big messes of people. It's too crowded. I used to walk to school with my older brother, Michael, but he's in college now, so my mom walks me. She doesn't trust the gangsters not to attack me.

My mom actually liked the idea of all those people working together to grow plants. That surprised me, even more than the fact that the garden even existed. When we passed it, she said to me, "You should try that out tonight, Jim Bobby. After school, you can come here. Maybe even make some friends." I knew she would just send me to the garden if I came home, and it didn't look too dangerous, at least. Nobody with guns. So I agreed and came back after school.

There was something weird going on when I arrived. I walked up uncertainly. Kids were lined up behind a wooden box. An African American girl was standing on top of it. She was talking about something with rain and garbage cans. I had no idea why. I left after that. I told my mom I forgot to bring any plants. The next day there was a thunderstorm. I didn't come that day. The next day, I did. That time I actually did forget to bring seeds.

This Vietnamese girl, probably nine or ten or something, had lots of little green beans. It looked like she had extra. I just stood there, knowing the same excuse wouldn't work again, even though it was true this time. A few people paused their work and looked at me funny. I don't blame them. After all, I was standing around watching a girl planting beans. I'd look at that person funny if it wasn't me. Then the girl looked up. I guess she noticed I didn't have seeds. She gave me some. Still feeling stupid and like everyone was watching, I dug holes-one for each bean-and put them in. The garbage cans were almost full of water, so I got some and watered the plants. I'd never planted anything before.

Then, the Vietnamese girl and I started talking. We talked about the lima beans. She had grown them before. She knew how to do it, and she helped talked about how it was like with only one parent. Her father died, too, but she never knew him.

So maybe everyone was watching me. Only thing was, I didn't care. Everyone could watch me, but when Kim-the Vietnamese girl- was, then that was all that mattered.