Terry Barry
"Your name is TERRY BERRY?" I said to the boy in front of me. I think this was his 6th or 7th grade year. "Yeah," he said. "I don't have time for this," I replied irritated and assuming and started to walk away to help out in the kids after school program. I can't remember what Terry wanted, but I figured he was giving me a fake name for some reason and I wasn't going down like that. "Sarah, he's for real!" Marquis McCoy assured me. Terry looked sheepish and defeated with these wide eyes that gave me pause and my steely exterior softened and I guess I decided I did have time for him. I can't remember the rest of that day, but that was how we met. And the last day I saw him, earlier this year at Poppie's funeral....his eyes were the same. That part hadn't changed. You could look into Terry's eyes and see him. Really see him.. if he let you. I was mad at him. So physically angry at him that I almost shook