My face flushed red, and I hated myself for it. I stood facing the intimidating frame of the teenage boy in baggy clothes, who cooly leaned over and took a sip from the drinking fountain. “Yeah, sure” he smirked, then sauntered away.

I watched him, trying to look equally unfazed, aware I was failing miserably. We were on a field trip to watch a football game, and I was in charge of overseeing all the happenings of the couple dozen youth who’d come with us. I needed to look in control. The rest of the kids were watching, and I needed them to know I could handle whatever they threw my way.

The boy had hurled a racial slur at a younger kid, and I’d confronted him about it. When he rolled his eyes I felt the need to underline my words with threats of suspension from attending future events. I knew he didn’t care. We both knew.

I gathered my clipboard containing the list of names of those who had ridden with us to the indoor practice facility, and blew my whistle. Kids and teens came wandering from various locations, dutifully gathering around me. As I began role call, I heard whispers and giggles from the teenage girls. “He really said that?” “Oh yeah. He called her a B, said she can’t tell him what to do” “I heard he wants to punch her”. More giggles.

I ignored, or tried. I wasn’t concerned for my well-being, I knew this particular kid liked to threaten things he’d never do. I WAS concerned, however, that word would get back to my boss, letting him know I couldn’t handle a group of rowdy teens. I was 19, and I’d worked hard to earn the trust needed to be responsible for field trips like this.

I cooly continued role call, fuming at the feel of my cheeks growing hot again. The teens were getting a bit restless, I looked up to see he’d joined them and was sending the same smirk my direction again.

I glanced at my coworker, an athletic lady who could have sent him sprawling without breaking a sweat. She was swinging the bus keys, waiting for the kids to all be accounted for so we could load up and get going. I looked down and called the last handful of names, then handed out a few parting directions as we started to shuffle into a line to leave. The boy continued to give me looks meant to intimidate, and I continued to poorly ignore.

As I turned and headed towards the back of the line to corral any stragglers, I heard a calm but firm voice behind me, “Hey, knock it off. Not another word out of you, do NOT call her a name again or you’ll deal with me”. I didn’t need to look to know who had said it, though my mind glitched trying to process why he’d say it. I felt myself glowing even more red, this time not from anger, but from confusion and, dare I admit, happiness. The teen grumbled something under his breath and the line continued it’s meandering procession to the waiting bus.

The ride back was momentarily raucous but quickly faded to a muffled quietness as tired kids drifted to their own thoughts and stared out windows. I tried to discreetly steal a glance at the owner of the voice, but I couldn’t see him from my seated position and I wouldn’t dare risk being caught raising myself up to look. I slouched and joined the kids in staring out the windows.

We made it back to the after-school program that had sent us out on this field trip. Car headlights flickered in the parking lot, a familiar sign of parents awaiting their kids’ return. As everyone filed into the lobby, made phone calls for rides, asked permission to go to their waiting parents, and gathered belongings, I busied myself behind the desk. Shuffling papers, checking the computer, smiling goodbyes at kids, greeting parents. I wouldn’t look at him. The teen boy hadn’t bothered coming inside, and I expected he probably wouldn’t ever again. He wasn’t a regular, and had only gone to hang with his girlfriend and catch a game. But that wasn’t on my mind.

Quickly, the lobby drained of the bustling children and only a handful of people remained. I reached to turn off the check-in computer that the kids use, and risked a glance up at the one who had stood up for me. He was leaning against the wall, chatting with another teen. He returned my glance with an expression I couldn’t read, then resumed his conversation. I finished what I was doing, checked the door to the inner facility to be sure it was locked, and started to walk past him. He stopped me. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Yeah….thanks for saying that to him. It was nice of you”. I stood awkwardly, then offered a half hearted side hug. He returned it, said goodbye, and left. I watched him walk out the door, my mind spinning. What had just happened? Why was he even there in the first place? I shook my head and steadied my breathing. It didn’t matter. He’d done what any decent guy should have, and I’d thanked him. That’s all it was, and that’s all it needed to be.

I set the building alarm, hit the light switch, double checked the locked door, and walked to my car. It was time to go home.