A new kid turned up at the skate park.  The regulars watched him as he put his helmet on.  He then spent five minutes putting on knee pads, elbow pads, wrist pads and gloves.  The kids dubbed him Safety Boy.

Safety Boy got on and did some basic moves, didn’t speak to anyone and kept to him self.  He ignored the Safety Boy gibes. 

It started to rain.  The regulars raced off to the protection of a nearby hut.  Safety Boy stayed in the park, still doing his moves, while the rain poured down.  The regulars were shouting “Hey Safety Boy, its raining!”, “Safety Boy, get in here, you’re soaked”, but Safety Boy just carried on skating.

The rain stopped and the kids ran out to Safety Boy.

“Hey Safety Boy, what’s your name”

“Jamie”

“Why all the pads and stuff?”

Jamie took off the wrist and elbow pads on his left arm and held it out.  Just above the wrist, there was a lump and his arm was twisted.

“My old dad stamped on it when I changed channel without asking.” said Jamie, “Then wouldn’t take me to hospital cos he was scared they’d call the police.  So it never healed straight”.

The kids were horrified.  Then they noticed some pink marks on the backs of his hands.

“What are they?”

“My old mum burned me with a cigarette when I did something bad.”

Safety Boy still goes to the skate park.  He still puts on his pads and glove and helmet.  He never does any dangerous moves or really tries anything new.  The kids still call him Safety Boy, but Safety Boy doesn’t mind.