"Is There Anything In It?"

March 15, 2008
By Allison Racicot, Auburn, MA

“Is there anything in it?”

“I dunno. What’d be in a soda can besides soda?”

“A bee.”

“A bee?”

“Yeah. It happened to me once over the summer. A bee flew into my soda can and I didn’t notice so I drank it and got stung right here.” She yanks her bottom lip out and shows him her pink gums.


“Yeah, so you go check it out. I’m not playing if there’s a bee inside the ball.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” He tiptoes over to the can, his foot rearing back just slightly. The can’s a chinchilla, his prey; he’s a wolf on the prowl. A clang echoes through the air as his sneaker collides with the aluminum sphere, sending it sailing towards an expensive-looking parked car.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

“Why’d you kick it so hard? You idiot!”

The pair sprints after the can, praying that no damage was done to the car. He picks it up gingerly and shakes it, listening intently.

“Nothing’s inside.”

The girl is walking around, surveying the car. “You didn’t crack or dent anything, as far as I can see. I know I tell you this a lot, but you seriously are an idiot sometimes.”

“Shut up.”

The boy brings his foot down hard and the can morphs into an accordion. He picks it up, tosses it between his hands, and smirks at the girl. She casts a skeptical glance his way.

“We still need teams.”

“It’s taken care of.” A small tribe of kids emerges out of nowhere, most armed with yardsticks, headless rakes, and other bat-like items.

The boy grins smugly. “Play ball.”

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