The punch landed right where he wanted it. The bruise that followed was instantaneous and a multitude of hues, colors that normally should not be on someone’s skin. A garish purple splotch, highlighted in gray and green and pushing the eye shut like an unnatural growth.
Alex wiped his dripping nose across his bare arm and tried to hold back tears but one escaped the entrapment. He brushed the tear from the offended cheek and swiftly retreated inside as the other boys held Christopher back from trying to throw a second swing.
In a force of adrenaline, Hermano José immediately took Christopher by the arm and into the house office to discuss with Hermana Maria and Hermana Lexi about how to handle the boy’s violent behavior.
The door shut behind them.
“I bet they’ll just make him do all of our chores as punishment,” Stephen said casually without looking up at the others. He sat on the living room couch intently crafting another string bracelet to be sold. This one was simple, with the vibrant colors of the Bolivian flag weaving in and out of each other.
“D-do you really think that’s all they’ll do to Christopher?” The concern in Max’s voice for his friend was palpable.
James seized the opportunity to tease Max by picking up on his anxious tone, “No way, they’ll sell him to the gypsy’s for sure,” he said mockingly, “This is his second strike in the past two weeks! He’s a goner.”
Denis saw the fearful look on Max’s child-like face and flashed James a threatening look.
“Shut up, man. No one is in the mood for your jokes and I’m sure the Followers aren’t impressed with you either and they’ve barely been here for a week! We have no idea what’s going to happen to Christopher after this; all we can do is wait.” Denis had always presented himself in a more mature way than the other seven boys in the house and was quick to put them back in their place if he needed to.
Alex entered the room just then holding a bag of ice to his soar eye and walking with his typical swag as if nothing had happened. He sat down next to one of the Followers and leaned his head on their shoulder.
Suddenly they heard the office door open down the hall and then shut again.
Hermano José came into the living room and told the boys to set the table for dinner. Juan, Stephen, and Matteo did as he asked while Denis and the Followers brought out plates of food; a normal Bolivian supper of vegetable and quinoa soup, toasted rice, fried liver, diced beets, and mashed yuka.
Hermano José, the Followers, and the seven boys sat down to eat.
There was one chair left empty.
Three weeks later.
The day was quieter than most. A gloomy shadow of what the boys knew would come trailed them around the house.
The Followers were just as effected by it as the boys and couldn’t help but feel a heaviness of despondent emotion as they forced fake smiles to hide their sadness from the boys.
Christopher had been gone three weeks now. After his outburst of violent anger, the house staff felt it best for him to be transferred to a different boys home in the area. Now it was New Years Eve and the Followers sat down for one final meal with the seven boys who had quickly become family to them.
Their last hours of conversation between the friends were meaningful and filled with vulnerable emotion. Seven Spanish-speaking Bolivian teenage boys who had lived most of their lives without any kind of positive influence, rejected by many because all they were seen as were druggies. Addicts. Burnouts. Selfish. Helpless and lost.
They were eager to know why these Followers had ever come to them. They wanted to know how, after all of the things they had done in their lives and all of the people they had hurt, could these six mysterious people love them in a way they had never been loved before and treated them like their own family. They saw the boys for who they were as people, treating them like they were equal and the same, as if they themselves were drug addicts and not someone better than them.
“We came here because we are Followers of the Way.” One answered when Denis boldly asked the questions that had been pressing on him for the past four weeks.
Another Follower added in, “Jesus is the Way. He is the truth and He is the light of this world and we follow Him wherever He goes. Where He goes, we will follow and where he sends us, we will go. We followed Him here to this house and He has shown us what it is to be loved relentlessly by Him and because of that, we desire to extend this kind of love to all of you.”
“This is your last day with us…then what will happen? There was a specific presence you brought with you here and now that will all be gone once you leave,” Max said in a shaky voice, choking back tears.
“That presence we brought with us is Jesus and His passionate love for all of you and that will not leave this place once we go. Leaving is hard for us, but we know we must continue on following Jesus where He’s leading us,” a Follower said while embracing Max in a hug.
The part of the night they had all been dreading crept up on them quicker than expected. The Followers prayed over each individual boy in the house. Hugs were given, pictures were taken, final words and laughs were shared, and all eyes were wet with tears.
As they slowly made their way out the front door of the house, the Followers of the Way turned back for one final glance of their brothers.
The boys stood together with their arms around each other in the doorway, watching them go and waving goodbye.
As the Followers looked, they saw Jesus standing with them, His arms around their shoulders as He walked with them back inside of the house to be with the drug addicts.
The door shut behind them.
*Real names have been changed for the protection of the boys.
