The Kid with the Yellow Crocs, chapter 1
Kareen Dunn leading a Huddle at Taylor St. The first time I saw Traeshawn, he was but a silhouette against the harsh light of a setting sun, casting long shadows on the wall of the Kokomo Urban Outreach Building. At 15, he carried the weight of the world in his eyes, yet his frame was light. He looked fragile. His skin was the rich color of the earth after rain, and atop his head was a cascade of dark braids pulled into a neat bun. Traeshawn's clothes were a canvas of his unique expression . His tie-dyed t-shirt, like a coat of many colors , seemed to hold the swirls of a thousand dreams. His tight, ripped skinny jeans spoke of the rough edges of his young life, while his yellow Crocs were a defiant splash of color in a world that often seemed too gray. I sensed he couldn't care less what people thought about him. He was his own man. He wasn't alone; two girls flanked him, their laughter a stark contrast to his solemnity. When I mustered the courage to approach