She ambled down the catch it. He glanced at her, but sidewalk, the around her just continued his routine with the ball beginning to turn green. The as though she wasn’t there. morning was unusually warm, and she said. She wiped her “Hi,” she’d convinced her mom to let runny nose on the sleeve of her her wear shorts outside for the shirt. first time that spring. Then she the boy answered, not stopped. Someone was moving in, “Hi,” turning around or stopping his three houses down. play. She gawked at the disarray She watched him throw and on the front lawn of the house: catch two more times. bicycles, a table with stacked “My name’s Jessica,” she finally said. chairs, a sofa, several easy chairs, boxes of all sizes. No one seemed The boy didn’t reply. The ball to be around. She slipped through bounced, he caught it, then he the open gate in the chain link hurled it back at the garage door fence to inspect more closely. once more. A thunking sound came from live down the street,” she “I the driveway around the side of said, tugging up her drooping the house. She rubbed the back of shorts. nine.” Her eyes never “I’m her hand over her nose, sniffled, left him. then weaved her way through the He half-turned, now maze of household goods to bouncing the ball off the concrete investigate. She saw a in front of him. Steven. We’re boy about her own age. He “I’m from Mendota.” wore jeans and a red soccer shirt, and he was throwing a tennis ball don’t know where that is.” “I against the garage door. The ball not too far.” He glanced would hit the garage door with a “It’s at her but seemed more hollow thump, bounce off the interested in the tennis ball. driveway, then the boy would
She ambled down the sidewalk, the around her just beginning to turn green. The morning was unusually warm, and she’d convinced her mom to let her wear shorts outside for the first time that spring. Then she stopped. Someone was moving in, three houses down. She gawked at the disarray on the front lawn of the house: bicycles, a table with stacked chairs, a sofa, several easy chairs, boxes of all sizes. No one seemed to be around. She slipped through the open gate in the chain link fence to inspect more closely. A thunking sound came from the driveway around the side of the house. She rubbed the back of her hand over her nose, sniffled, then weaved her way through the maze of household goods to investigate. She saw a boy about her own age. He wore jeans and a red soccer shirt, and he was throwing a tennis ball against the garage door. The ball would hit the garage door with a hollow thump, bounce off the driveway, then the boy would catch it. He glanced at her, but continued his routine with the ball as though she wasn’t there. “Hi,” she said. She wiped her runny nose on the sleeve of her “Hi,” the boy answered, not turning around or stopping his play. She watched him throw and catch two more times. “My name’s Jessica,” she finally said. The boy didn’t reply. The ball bounced, he caught it, then he hurled it back at the garage door once more. “I live down the street,” she said, tugging up her drooping shorts. “I’m nine.” Her eyes never left him. He half-turned, now bouncing the ball off the concrete in front of him. “I’m Steven. We’re from Mendota.” “I don’t know where that is.” “It’s not too far.” He glanced at her but seemed more interested in the tennis ball. shirt.