A kid I know

I know this kid, William Lepe. He's a good kid. He says, "Yes
ma'am," and opens doors for old ladies. He likes it when they smile at
him and thank him. Last summer, I needed help mowing a couple lawns in
my neighborhood, and when I asked for his help, he told me, "Good deal
Culer." When we finished, I gave him the money, but he told me not to
worry about it. "You've already paid me Culer," he said. I didn't
understand.

We never really talked about anything important, and never passed the
formality of last names, but I figured out a few things. His father is
strict. His mom is dead. He has six little brothers and an old,
tyrannical dog named Mac. Lepe taught his little brothers and his dog
how to grow up and he makes his father's life very comfortable.

"My father has nightmares," Lepe told me one afternoon. "Does your Dad
ever scream at night? I'll cry sometimes because I don't know what's
going on and I'll be afraid of him too so I don't ask him what he
dreamed." He stared at me, contemplating. "I pray for him and love him
though."

My dad has nightmares too. He usually gets them after midnight. The
worst is when I'm sleeping and his hollering wakes me. That's when I
pray to God and become scared. Of course, I didn't tell Lepe this. I
didn't want to talk about it with him. I didn't want this kid to know
that I cried when I was scared.

Lepe thought we were good friends, but we weren't. We didn't do many
things together, and I always felt a little edgy around him. My friends
didn't like Lepe much either, partly because he was poor, but more
because he was poor, smart, and polite. Coach loved him. Teachers loved
him. Father Phelps loved him the most.

With Father Phelps, school was strictly business. If he scolded a
student, it wasn't because Father didn't like him. "Some things you
just have to be taught," he would tell us, "and if I have to yell and
embarrass you to get you to learn them, then I will. Don't take it
personally though."

Father caught one of my friends a few months ago walking around with
his shirt un-tucked. "Son! Stop right now," Father commanded. The kid
snapped to a standstill and the lunchroom became silent, as if some
Army drill sergeant had just called it to attention. "What's wrong with
this picture Joe? Look down at your shirt," Father Phelps began,
"that's right, it's un-tucked. You see your classmates. They can tuck
in their shirts. They can iron their clothes too and comb their hair
and shave at least once a week. When's the last time you shaved
Joe?"

"Yesterday, Father," Joe lied.

"Well, it doesn't look like it. Other kids with less time can do this
simple stuff. You know Will Lepe, he has a job and still finds time to
iron his clothes, comb his hair, and shave before school. Maybe you
should take a lesson from him."

And, that's why my friends hated Lepe.