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Do good and good will follow.
That was the motto that Billy lived his life by. It was something his parents had taught him, even in his earliest memories.
Sometimes doing good was hard, especially when it felt like the whole world was kicking him while he was down. Sometimes it felt impossible when he was struggling just to get by. But Billy persevered, kept doing good wherever he could, because there was already more than enough bad in the world.
He wasn’t sure when, or even how, good would follow. But he had faith that it would.
He liked to imagine that it came back to him in the form of a warm mug of hot chocolate after helping Mrs. Chen take boxes of old clothes to the Good Will around the corner, or in the mismatched mittens Uncle Dudley made for him after running errands for him while his foot was broken. It was a delicious meal after volunteering at a soup kitchen and blanket draped over his shoulders after a long night holding Freddy’s hand during a bad pain day.
He imagined it came in the form of a microphone and a captive audience after he helped uncover a terrible scheme. It was the cheering of a crowd after rescuing a group of people from a burning building. It was the faith people had in him after he became their hero, the trust they put in him after he became their friend.
It was even the tingle of magic beneath his skin after giving a poor old man his last dollar and the only bit of food he had.