She kicked the can farther than the rest of the boys who looked on from perches that dressed the sides of the alley way. It wasn’t her plan to beat them at their own game, something she found silly and arbitrary in determining social status, yet at the same time primal and fitting for the back alley setting. Most of the boys, no older than she- ten or eleven- gasped wide eyed, applauded and even cheered. One, however, sat on an old rotten chest of drawers with his arms folded and a dark look on his face. It was a stark contrast to his bright red hair which fell out of the front of his Yankees cap. This one, the leader, hopped off of his throne and approached her with a machismo.

“Oh yeah, let’s see you do this.”

Like a ray he shot off of the ground and in to the sky. Even quicker she shot up and caught him.

The boy lay limp in her arms, Yankees cap falling to the street below. He was the one she was looking for. Her work was done for the day and now she could go play with her real friends.