They said:
he was a happy child
so far as we knew. He
smiled a lot and was
open with strangers; he
held doors open
for little old ladies
at church and always
gave the right answers
when someone asked him
a question and he never
spoke out of turn. A bit
too round, maybe, and he
never could hit a baseball
or run all that fast; but
that was because he
watched too much TV
and read too many books
when he should’ve been
outside playing with kids
his own age. But still, he was
a good sweet boy. And then
one day he just stopped
smiling – though he still opened
doors for the little old ladies
at church and he said very little;
but when he did speak
he would ask questions and use
big words that he’d read in
those big books he carried with him.
And when he didn’t get an answer
that suited him, he would still
open doors for little old ladies,
but there was a look in his eyes
that could pass for disrespect.
That was when it became clear
the boy would come to no good
because nothing good comes from a boy
who can’t play baseball.
