shouting. The lifeguards finally said “stop” just as I contemplated intervening.
I watched as a tall girl hit him hard with a stick three times, and then tossed it at him. He limped away, his silent head bowed. He stopped walking and began drawing a five-foot pentagram in the sand.
I could have said it will get better or try not to let them bother you or ignore them or I am sorry this is happening to you or trust that you will be a man someday and this will be a memory and it will sting but not make your heart gut head roar like an open wound.
I say nothing as he circles, stick-in-hand, head bowed toward the pentagram in the sand.
Laura Urban lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Charlottesville, Virginia, where she is raising two young boys and writing, sometimes. She studied English at the University of Mary Washington and spent three years serving with Americorps in Boston, Massachusetts, where she administered literacy and arts programming to inner city students. She is drawn to the margins of life and hopes to return to a career in social work sometime soon.