18 Don't make me melt

No one knew his beginning or his ending. And he divulged only so much about himself. People could only assume he was somewhere from the west side, where the wealthy lived, but definitely not from this neighborhood.

He was too polished, too genteel, too respectable, too educated. The clothes he wore were what we here in the neighborhood only saw in magazines and dreamt of being able to afford one day. He owned all the latest gadgets advertised on television. And most times, months before a cool gadget even hit the stores, he already had it.

No one envied or spoke ill of him. Even the gangsters in the ‘hood kept their distance, as if warned off. He treated everyone with utter respect and kindness, so he was widely loved.

Every week, by late Friday—as he only came around on the weekends—the neighborhood girls would be atwitter of his arrival, so they'd style themselves, flaunting in the skimpiest of outfits—whatever it took to catch the sparkling blue eyes of the mysterious rich boy from