Differences Make Good Friends 

     Devlon was a neighbor girl living near my grandmother Burla’s home in Hancock Park, Los Angeles. Devlon and her father lived alone in a large vine covered Spanish colonial house. Her mother died when she was only 3 years old.

 Devlon was 10 years old, and I was eight when we first met. 

     Devlon had one problem in life; she had a face that was deformed. It looked almost like a bent beer can. Her eyes bulged out a bit on top, and she had an abnormally high forehead and a pointed chin. She mostly lived a life apart from other people. She went to a special school for ‘handicapped’ children, even though she was not handicapped, she had a misshapen face.

     One summer day while visiting my grandmother I saw Devlon playing in her yard, our eyes met but she looked away. I walked over to her, “Hi, I'm Donnie.” I said. “I'm Devlon,” she shyly responded. She was covering the bottom part of her face. Then out from my 8 year old brain popped, “I don't care about your face, you wanna play?” She turned with a surprised look, “sure.” I handed her one of my cowboy pistols and off we went. 

     Devlon and I were weekend buddies on my visits to my grandmother. We played ball and would sneak around the neighborhood playing military spy games. Her father always told her not to leave their homes expansive yard. She had to ask permission for anything. Her father structured every hour of her life. To her dad I became the bad influence in Devlon's life. Actually I was a freeing influence for her. I helped her break the prison rules. 

     About a month after our first meeting my parents asked if I would like to invite Devlon for the weekend. “Oh yeah!” I answered. Devlon's father said, “No, she's not a healthy girl.” Well, you never said no to my parents, ever. After many calls to the father he at last said “yes.” Devlon was going to be allowed out to the land of the living for a weekend. 

     While my friends and I waited for Devlon to arrive, I told them more about Devlon. My stories shaped her into my exotic older friend. Finally my grandmother's car turned onto our street. Devlon was in the back seat of the car peering out looking a bit lost. My friends gasped as they saw her face, but her smile and charm won everyone over. We all began talking at once.

      The knocking on the door started early the next morning. “You guys gonna come out and play?” My friends shouted. Finally we finished breakfast and Devlon and I went into the yard. Five of my friends were waiting under the willow tree in the front yard. “What we gonna do?” “I donno!” “Lets go to the creek!” Everyone thought going to the creek was a great idea. We started walking towards La Ballona Creek, laughing, shoving, and playing. The creek was pretty full of water for July. There was only one thing to do, “Let's go in!” We all started taking our clothes off. “Oh no!” Devlon cried, “I can't do that!” “Sure you can, we don't care, com'on, let's go in, com'on!” I shouted to Devlon. My friends and I were starting a water fight when Devlon walked in the water, snow white and blushing, we all laughed. She laughed. We started mud fighting; gray clay was flying every which way. Devlon seemed like a transformed person. She had a constant smile on her face and was no longer concerned about being naked or having a misshapen face. We had all become primal children. Devlon became our water goddess. The sun and warm breeze played off our bodies. It was a moment of total freedom and joy. Devlon was one of us. The afternoon rushed by and it was getting late. My friends and I tried to pull Devlon from the water. She refused to get out. “Com'on Devlon, we gotta go home. We'll get into trouble if we don't.” “I don't want to leave, it's wonderful!” She screamed. “Devlon we're gonna get into big trouble if we don't leave.” “OK!” She finally got out of the water and got dressed. We all ran back home leaving a trail of dripping water and a dust cloud behind us. That weekend we played more than ever before. Saturday night my mom had a Bar-B-Que for all of us and we didn't go to bed until very late. Devlon and I played Batman and Robin. We took turns playing the Batman role. 

     Sunday evening arrived and it was time for Devlon to leave. My grandmother was in her car waiting. The kids from the neighborhood gathered around Devlon saying their “good byes.” She kissed a couple of the boys. My mom gave her a green jade necklace and put it on her neck before she climbed into the car, Devlon was crying. I was crying too. “I'll see ya next weekend Dev...” I shouted. She smiled and waved; she was wiping away tears. We all stood silently waving to her as the car pulled out the driveway and slowly moved down the street.

     I spoke with Devlon a few times on the phone after her visit, but never saw her again. Devlon and her father moved to the San Fernando Valley, Encino. A friend of Devlon's father who knew my grandmother spoke to Burla a number of months later. She told Burla about how outgoing Devlon had become. She was in regular school and had many friends. She played piano and had a love of music.

Epilogue

     A few years later: Devlon had died from some sort of ongoing heart problem that could not be fixed. Burla (my grandmother) many months later told me about Devlon's death.

     I knew that she didn't die, we all knew it. Devlon would never really die. Devlon is playing in the warm creek water, naked, and shinning in the sun, surrounded by children, throwing mud, laughing and with her friends. Devlon's the Water Goddess of La Ballona Creek.