I need to start writing these things down.

Miss, do you work at that school?
No.
Oh. (Slight look of worry. )
Why? Do you need something?
Yeah. I need help.
What's going on?
Those girls are trying to fight me. And I didn't do anything. And my brother was here, but he had to get someone else, so he left and I am waiting for him.
Ok. Well, do you want me to walk you back to the school? Or I can stay with you.
I was already with security, and they told me to go home, and then I came outside, and the girl said she wanted to hit me.
So, you want me to wait with you?
Ok.

We stand at the intersection of the crosswalk. I ask her a few questions about school. I also ask her if the girl is still over there - and if her brother said how long he would be. I tried to make small talk about the "christ mobile" in the playground next to us. A young woman dressed as a princess, and a white guy with an Eastern European accent, singing "god is good" with 5 small children dancing up and down to the booming voices coming from the loud speaker set up in the van - as if there aren't already
enough noises in the Bronx - I wondered if it was a common occurrence. She said "no".

I suggested we move to the side of the playground fence, so as not to be in the way of pedestrian traffic, and hopefully moving out of site of the girl who was waiting to fight her. Although, I couldn't help but think "is this girl really in trouble, or is she trying to ploy me away from the crowds so her friends could jump me and steal my backpack of Scantron materials? Or maybe shoot me on a drive-by and she would run away with my back pack. I was thinking that maybe they would shoot my arm; my first time shot - in the Bronx - ...seems about right. I would probably scream out in pain; need to go to the ER. But, I would go back to work the next day. I have been roaming these streets for almost 4 years...and besides, what are the chances of getting shot again? I couldn't tell what she was thinking, she kept a look of toughness on her face.

A few more minutes went by...

There he is.

We both turned to the right. Her brother was either the one walking alone, or surrounded by a crowd of teenage boys in baggy clothes -obvi - "here's my chance to run" was the thought lingering in the back of my mind.

They hugged a passionless hug.

Thank you.
You're welcome. Bye.

I turned and walked away; crossing the intersection; walking up the subway platform. Did I just prevent her from possibly getting seriously injured or worse?