Together

7:11

175 middle school students. 25 leaders. 4 hours. 12 different activities. More candy and pop than ever ought to be consumed.

And, just like every other moment that is classically our kids, their favorite parts don't have anything to do with the extras at all.

Instead, they thrive on the parts where we pour into them, where they feel seen and protected and known without question. And, I am pretty sure that we break all the American stereotypes with our tweens and teens who would rather build a relationship with another person than take a sledgehammer to a junkyard car.

And, I love that about them.

S*rg**, with his wary eyes that take in everything, tells me that he is having fun, but even winning at dart tag (nerf gun battle) earns hardly any reaction until I ask him about it and a soft grin finally quirks out. That cheek splitting smile of his only makes an appearance once, when we both walk around a corner and he spots me for the first time all night - life pouring from his face like I never would have dreamed of when he was my traumatized little kindergartener with the long sleeves and glow in the dark gloves.

The seventh graders come en mase, always checking with laughing eyes to make sure that I have seen. The eighth graders watch out for the younger kids, carefully alert, bouncing between leaders, trying to learn by mimicry this art of being almost grown up, of taking care of smaller people.

Two girls return to my station to explain a trigger and get help in gaining a small victory over a fear.

M*t** checks in several times though the night, anything from a wander past to just a few sentences, only once staying long enough to chase him through the auditorium. He slows to a walk and relaxes in my basket hold for several heartbeats until I ruffle his hair and he spots a friend. He seems so confident and so at ease that I forget about the anxiety that eats at his heart.

M*tt** runs around with his friends and postures as flirtatiously as his cluelessly twelve year old self can muster. M*dd** and K*r*n come by with him several times to check in, his two female body guards. Both of the girls are giving me that look that says that M*tt** is out of control and I need to fix it.

He causes enough "trouble" at my station to earn himself a few catch and release maneuvers, but it isn't  focused enough to break through what is bothering him, and I can see the girls mentally settling in, prepared to follow him and run damage control for the rest of the night until I am free.

I forget to tell any of them that I am moving to a new work station. 

"Is this where you were?" M*dd** is almost scolding as they come up the stairs to play dart tag, as if the twenty minutes since I left jousting had been a month long quest, and, for the rest of the night, they stay within throwing distance - even with a sheet of black plastic between us.

"I found you." M*t** weaves his way out of the crowd that we have gathered back together for the end of the night and plants himself by my side. He stays there, sitting down with a thump, as if that will prevent my still standing self from leaving. I messed with his sense of safety when I "disappeared," and, as payment, he expects no comment about the fact that it is only the two of us, sitting a few feet back from the mass of bodies.

So, we sit, and we talk, and, when his dad comes to pick him up, he leaves happy again, if more than a little ready for bed.

"You know he's serious [about flirting]," M*dd** takes advantage of the rapidly thinning group to explain their current M*tt** predicament, "when he actually leaves my side. As soon as the girls leave, he'll be back."

And, he is.

Actually, he's back even before that, stealing her phone the moment it registers that their group is the only focus of my attention. And, finally, with my hands wrapped around his shoulders and hers grappling for the stolen electronic, he remembers, for a few minutes, that it is okay to breathe.

It's like we've vacuumed the manic right out of him. He settles in, showing off for me a little, like any boy with a new trick, and they start to just play. Four hours of activities, and this is what they've been waiting for all night. Just a half dozen of us, with nothing more exciting than a stack of cones and a Disney princess playground ball.

20 minutes, and they are content.

"My favorite was the snack bar," Kyr* says, "because it was the only time we weren't running and I could actually talk to my friends."

All night, I don't see a single phone used for anything besides taking pictures or video. Instead, they hang out with each other or work around the system to carve out time to hang with a leader. And, it's so anti everything that the media says that they are, that I can't help but be grateful for the chance to see their beautiful, messy reality.