Naomi Sandburg had noticed that her 14-year-old son had been more withdrawn lately. She decided to have a talk with him tonight when she got off from her shift at the diner. Blair had always been an outgoing young man who made friends in an instant. But lately, he took to staying in their two-bedroom apartment, reading piles of books that he would check out from the library. He was always carrying books to and from the library. He used to play ball with the boys from his school. But he hadn't done that for some time.
It was close to 11:00 PM when Naomi walked into the apartment she and Blair had lived in for over five years now. She had decided to stay in one place for Blair. He needed a little stability in his life. They had been on the move for most of Blair's first 10 years. And although he was able to advance in his grades, it was easier now. At least Naomi thought so. And Blair had announced he had several good friends and they liked it when he joined in the various sports at school – basketball, baseball, hockey, soccer and, to Naomi's worry, football. But Blair was a talented athlete.
When Naomi walked into the apartment, she heard the radio on in Blair's room. She knew her son was probably still awake. He read until all hours of the night. She knocked on the closed door and heard her son answer, "Come in."
Naomi opened the door and had to smile. Blair was sprawled out on the bed, his arms one way and his legs another.
"Hey, Baby. I'm home."
"Hi mom. How was the diner?"
"I got more than $50 in tips. It was busy. How was school today, Blair?"
"It was fine."
"Did you get something for dinner?"
"Yeah. I made a meatloaf. There's some leftover in the refrigerator if you want some."
"No. I had something to eat at the diner. Blair? Is there something wrong?"
"No. It's fine."
"Sweetie? It's not fine. All you do is sit around here in this drab apartment and read. Isn't it baseball season?"
"Yeah. But I don't like baseball."
"Since when?"
"I just don't want to play baseball. I'm too old for baseball."
"No you're not. You love baseball. You bought that fielder's glove last year with the money you made working at the diner as a busboy. Now, you don't like baseball?"
Blair turned away from his mom. He didn't want her to see his tears. But she heard his crying.
"Blair? Baby? What's wrong? Did one of the boys hurt you? I know that you're smaller than some of them. Did they hurt you?"
"Not physically." It was said soft and into Blair's pillow. But Naomi heard it.
She pulled him up and gathered him into a hug.
"What's wrong?"
"They called me names. Bas – tard. And mongrel. It hurt me. I thought they were my friends."
"A-w-w. I'm sorry, Blair. Kids can be mean and nasty. Even the ones who are your friends."
"I don't want to go back to that school, mom."
"You're bigger than any names they can call you. Just remember that. Did you tell your teachers?"
"No. I'm not a snitch."
"No, you're not a snitch. But they shouldn't get away with doing that to you."
"I can just ignore them. If I don't try to participate in things, they leave me alone. This way, I get to read more."
"But you've always been able to have friends."
"I have friends, mom. Roger at the diner, Mrs. Greenbaum at the library, Mr. Berg the maintenance guy at the library and my teachers at school."
Naomi was going to say something else. But one look at her son, she decided not to. The loss of friendship by Blair's classmates wasn't Blair's loss, it was his classmates. Blair was the most compassionate person Naomi knew. He got along with everyone. It was their loss.
"Are you going to be okay going back to school?"
"Yeah. I guess. And I should be able to graduate soon. Right?"
"Yes, according to your teachers. So? What have you been reading about tonight?"
"The beginnings of civilization. It's still what I want to study in college. It's so fascinating. And I'd love to discover something no one has ever seen before."
"If you want to do that, you can, Blair. You can do anything you want to."
