Red, Like My Bleeding Heart in Your Hand

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Theodore Spinoza was crying the first time Nash ever saw him. With the principal's hand on his shoulder, she explained that Teddy was new to the school, new to the community, and needed their help to adjust. Everybody knew that only meant to not tease him about his red face and the streaks of snot on his sleeves.

At that moment, looking at Teddy all sad and soppy with his sharp chin tipped up anyway, Nash made a decision. With all his six years of worldliness and wisdom, Nash decided no way did he want anything to do with that snot-faced kid. Not when he was already in charge of keeping his snot-faced sister right and happy, and not with Daddy's fits of violence already taking up more than their fair share of his concern. Theodore Spinoza was on his own.

It's funny how life can take a decision like that and twist it into something precious and unexpected.