Eating Lunch With Eleven

He is eleven, big bright blue eyes, pale, unfreckled skin, lighter hair than most. Not allowed to eat with other eleven-year-olds. Due to past and semi-present behaviors So he eats with the counselor, me. Today during lunch his deepest of the deep voice came out suddenly. THESE FRIES MAKE ME MAD. I burst out laughing. He is in a silly billy mood, not turned to me, but looking away. I notice his cheeks are puffing up, in a happy way. “You are not mad at all,” I tell him. His smile gets bigger, but he does not reply. He is relishing in the individual attention I give him. Even more delighted when I call him out on stuff like this. Showing him we are both lone wolves and fearless.