One Wondrous Christmas

“Please, can we slow down? I can’t keep up with you!” Shirley finally pleaded. Donald then stopped dead in his tracks and gave her a momentary cold stare. He didn’t speak. Immediately Shirley noticed that he was staring right past her, his stern look being for the two bigger boys up ahead who had suddenly stopped and turned around, intentionally walking back towards them. 
“Pretend I don’t know you,” Donald suddenly said to Shirley under his breath, with severe distinctiveness. Shirley’s face showed a brief moment of alarm but understood the quick instruction and performed accordingly without missing-a-beat. She walked nonchalantly straight ahead, with her head held high, right between the two gawking boys, who had now stopped-dead in their tracks. 
“Yeah, I remembered,” she overheard Donald say, as she continued her quick, stoic pace, which soon drew her out of earshot. Shirley wanted to stop and turn around, but she didn’t dare. She kept on walking, even though every part of her being told her that something wasn’t right—that Donald might be in trouble. 
Shirley then noticed that she would be walking right by the city park up ahead. They were almost at the school, as the distinctive, red brick building had just now popped into view, sitting directly at the far end of the park. The idea occurred to her that she might just slip behind some of the thick fir trees that were outlining the park, and there, in her hidden state, she could wait for the boys to walk by. Shirley was concerned about what those boys wanted with Donald. 
Her plan worked, and she found herself to be perfectly situated to observe the three of them, even though they, too, had also taken a detour and ducked into the park. Shirley was very disappointed and saddened to witness what happened next: The older boys were making snow balls and throwing them at some poor man who was curled up on a park bench! She drew closer, yet remained, she thought, undetected. 
“Come on, Donald! I dare you…throw one at him!” one of the boys yelled out with a cocky, mean spirit. 
“Hey, look! The guy doesn’t even notice!” the other boy piped in with a loud laugh, pelting one snowball after the other at the homeless man. 
“It seems he’s awake now!” one of them jeered. Now the two boys were cackling with side-splitting laughter. 
The man, seemingly unbothered by the snowballs intermittently hitting him, calmly got up from the bench and began to walk toward the boys, who unabashedly continued to assault him with snow. Donald, however, was biding his time, still working on packing the snow together in his gloves to form his first snowball. He knew he didn’t want to join the other two in their bullying of a defenseless, homeless guy in a park. 
Shirley, watching intently, sighed with relief and smiled when she then witnessed Donald opening up his hands and letting the snow fall back to the ground. She was, however, too far away to notice what was becoming obvious to Donald: The old guy was looking right into his eyes, walking past the mean boys and their snowballs, and making his way straight to him… to him alone. The other two then also dropped the remaining snow in their gloves, falling suddenly silent and watching with interest at what might happen next. 
The man stopped two feet in front of Donald and just waited, still looking intently at him. Donald didn’t know what to do or what to say. He couldn’t even think, because in the last few moments he was simultaneously becoming aware of how he was really feeling: sick and frozen all over, with a stabbing pain in his chest with each breath he took. 
The old man’s eyes were still fixated on his own, but then, as Donald held his gaze, the peculiar notion came to him, that this man’s penetrating eyes held absolutely no anger--nor even a speck of disapproval. In fact, he felt as though the eyes of the stranger were indeed looking upon him with a gentleness and kindness. As uncomfortable as that made him feel, Donald had the further strange notion that the unknown man could see deep into his heart, and that he understood him completely. It didn’t make any sense, and Donald’s gut-reaction was one of impatience and annoyance, as he suddenly had the thought of how odd all of this might appear in front of the older boys. 
With cold ambivalence he asked the strange man boldly, “Just what do you want from me? Stop staring at me…; go back to where you came from!” 
Donald heard the boys’ laughter start up again, but now his only thought was how he could quickly end all this misery. He turned his back on all of them, not caring about anything anymore, and he walked, as quickly as he was able, to the promising comfort of the warm school building. He completely forgot about Shirley. Unbeknownst to him, she had been a silent witness to everything that had taken place in the park.