“What a shame.” I said as Heather paused at the stop sign, we were both looking at the lonesome, beaten volley ball bobbing around a large puddle of water in the street. It was raining.
“Should we take it?” Heather asked. I looked over at her to see a mischievous gleam in her eye, and at once opened my door to the outside. I walked around the puddle quickly, trying to find a spot I could safely lean over without falling in (it looked much deeper up close), a pebble shifted under my right high heel and I came dangerously close falling face-forward, but caught myself, scooping up the ball in the process. I heard Heather laughing from the car and ran back, my hair now damp from the rain.
“We’ll just drop it back where we found it when church is over.”
“Sounds good.” I turned it over in my hands, it looked beyond beaten up, it seemed downright abused.
“Not as pretty up close, is it?”
“Not at all.”
We headed to Starbucks and sat at our usual table. Madame and I now call each other “Seven” and “Anna Lynn” when we’re at Starbucks, because once the barista misheard Heather and thought she said her name was “Seven” (I don’t know how, either…) and last time they thought my name was “Anna Lynn”, which is a tad more understandable, though I don’t torture the coffee folk by telling them my name is Hannah-Elizabeth, just Hannah. So, it just leaves the mystery of Lynn.
Annnd, I have run out of time to write more because I must prepare for a science fair.
Until I Write Again,
--Hannah-Elizabeth/Anna-Lynn
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