I had never seen somebody get so excited about a slinky before. His eyes twinkled with awe as he watched the weight from the top of the slinky flow back down to the bottom.  It was like the only thing that mattered to him in that moment was that the expansion and contraction of that shiny, spiraled piece of metal. Unlike the other kids at the summer camp Aidan didn’t need to constantly be receiving undivided attention from a counselor. He was completely content playing all alone with his slinky.
When I found out Aidan was entering the fifth grade, I was shocked, as he had a slender build and small features. His sweet eyes were toffee brown and wrinkled up when he smiled his toothless smile. Aidan was one of the campers with special needs and had a hard time relating to other boys and girls. It was heartbreaking to watch kids sprint by him, like he wasn’t even there. He was there. He was sitting under the tube slide playing with his slinky, and I couldn’t bring myself to go over and sit with him.
“I have a hundred kids to look after” I thought to myself “and besides, my boss always urges us to pay attention to all the kids, not just one”.
I knew I was only avoiding the fact that I was afraid to talk to him. I was afraid he wouldn’t welcome me, and would just run away like he does with all of the other counselors. But I knew deep down that that I only felt this way because Aidan was different.
One day while I was alternating giving the kindergarteners piggy back rides, I watched as Charlotte timidly approached Aidan. A sense of relief overcame me, and I suddenly felt less guilty about not approaching Aidan myself. Although Charlotte was only in first grade, they both loved to draw, collect bugs, and loved the snow cones the counselors made campers on hot days. And, like most friends, they had their differences. Aidan had special needs, and Charlotte didn’t, but that didn’t matter to her. Why did it matter to me? Here I am, at seventeen, afraid to approach a fifth grader just because he has special needs. I used Charlotte and Aidan’s newfound friendship as an excuse to not befriend him myself. 
I continued to use this excuse, as Aidan remained independent even during the heavily anticipated sports themed week at camp. The kids showed up wearing sports jerseys and competed in the camp-wide Olympics. Whoever won the most games in their grade level won a highly sought-after gold medal. As a counselor, this was my least favorite of all the themed weeks, because with competitions came crying, injuries, fights, and sore losers. I was given the luxury of supervising the hundred meter dash; an event notorious for causing fights between overly-competitive campers.
Soon enough the kids started huddling around me, complaining about the oppressive heat and asking if they could go inside. I warded off the complainers and began taking attendance when my eyes landed on Aidan. He stood out even more to me that day. He was the only kid not wearing athletic attire, instead he stood shyly in his tie-dye t-shirt and board shorts. Aidan walked over to the starting line quietly as others argued competitively about who would come out on top. I counted down, bracing myself for the chaos ahead, and soon enough the kids sprinted away. Shortly after the start of the race, Charlotte tripped on the pavement and scraped her knee. At this point, Aidan was already far in the lead and Charlotte started to cry loudly. This was not an ideal situation for me as a counselor. I froze. Dealing with injuries was arguably the worst part of my job, and I did not want to be looked at as being irresponsible by my bosses. I needed to tend to the crying six year old girl on the pavement, but I knew the rest of the kids would start yelling at me for not being there to see who won the race. My first- aid training kicked in immediately and I rushed over to Charlotte and patched up her knee and comforted her. As I peeled the backing off the Spongebob Band-Aid, the pounding sun cast a shadow on the pavement of a person standing over my shoulder. When I turned around I was surprised to see Aidan standing over me. Charlotte was surprised too and her bright blue eyes lit up immediately in sincere appreciation of Aidan’s concern for her. When her bruise was finally bandaged and her tears were finally dry, Aidan smiled his toothless smile.
“Do you want to finish the race with me?” he asked. 
Charlotte nodded. Hand in hand, they ran all the way to the finish line together.
If it wasn’t for the extreme competitiveness of the other kids, I would have given Aidan the gold medal that day. He didn't express a care in the world that he could have won. He didn't seek the bragging rights of coming in first. His natural instinct was to help a friend in need. Even though witnessing this touched me, the event only worsened my guilt as I still hadn’t reached out to Aidan. These little kids were demonstrating better understandings of friendship and compassion than I was. I felt weak and embarrassed. I knew I had to do it. An overwhelming sense of courage overcame me and gave me the strength to break down the barrier I was once so afraid of breaking.
As soon as the clock struck ten the campers transitioned into snack time. I watched from afar as Aidan carried his dinosaur lunchbox over to his usual spot under the tube slide. I took a deep breath, and followed him there. When I crouched under the slide, he had a surprised look on his face. I thought he was going to run away. He didn’t. His sweet, toffee brown eyes wrinkled up and he flashed me his toothless grin.  His smile was welcoming and eliminated the nervous pit in my stomach.
“Hi Aidan!” I said. “Would you mind if I ate snack here today?” he nodded timidly and scooched over to make room. I panicked about what to say next until I saw what was in his hand.
“Wow you have a slinky? That’s so cool!” He started to giggle. I picked up the slinky, and his eyes twinkled with awe as he watched the weight from the top of the slinky flow back down to the bottom.
“Woah this is awesome Aidan! Do you want to see a cool trick I can do with it on the playground steps?” I asked. He smiled and nodded, it’s like he had never seen somebody get so excited about his slinky before.