The New Boy
...served for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict.” My conscience began to gnaw at me, but I did nothing until later that day when I was walking home from school. I saw a group of children mercilessly harassing the same boy. They had stolen his knapsack and his notebook. With a deep breath, I marched up to my classmates and screamed at them to leave him alone. They snickered and jeered at me, threatening to tell everyone that I was the “weirdo’s girlfriend,” but I stood my ground. What they were doing was wrong and they should not get away with it. I snatched his notebook away from the girls and glared at the boys until they gave up his knapsack. Finally, the bullies left, and the boy and I stood alone. As an awkward silence descended, I debated whether I should also just turn around and leave. Pushing my doubts aside, I thrust my hand out and said brightly, “Hi! My name is Yera. What’s yours?” I saw hesitation in his eyes and I felt a pang of sorrow. I knew that he thought I was just like everyone else—I was there to taunt him. My hand was still outwardly stretched in what I hoped was a welcoming gesture. He finally took it and replied shyly, “Ivan Dibakarov.” We began to converse and we discovered that he only lived a couple of blocks away from me. It was getting dark so we agreed to walk home together. As we were walking, Ivan’s story unfolded. Ivan had recently moved to America from Russia to escape poverty. He told me of how his dad worked long hours in a shoe factory to scrimp and save for America. He glowed with pride as he explained that he not mind his odd clothing because he knew that he helped put food on the table by not asking for more. I was shocked upon hearing this revelation. I never knew that fifth graders actually helped their family have enough to eat. Ivan dreamily went on about how wanted to perfect his English and go to the best college to provide a better life for his family, especially his younger sister Anna. I was sorry to see that we had reached our departing area because listening to him speak was so enthralling. Ivan taught me so muc...