12 Pulling, Bracing, Zooming

CHAPTER TWELVE PULLING, BRACING, ZOOMING THE TEENAGERS GAVE Rosie a tennis ball. Simon brought back a spool of fishing line and said, "Mr. Garcia told me to keep it. He's got plenty." I brought back Mom's stretchy exercise band. "What do we do first?" Simon asked. "We have to attach the fishing line to the tennis ball," Rosie said. We wrapped that fishing line around the ball, like, a bajillion times. We wove it under and over and around the ball in every direction. When we were

done, you could hardly see the ball at all. "What's next?" I asked. Rosie answered, "We unwind the spool all the way to the end." The end of the fishing line was attached to the spool with a piece of tape. We peeled it off the spool. The fishing line was really thin, strong, and light. "It's slingshot time!" Simon yelled. Rosie looked at me and nodded real fast toward the parking lot near the soccer field. Max was getting out of his red van. We didn't tell Simon.

Rosie and I each stepped inside one end of Mom's long exercise band. It formed a loop around us. We stepped apart until it was tight enough to not fall down, but loose enough that Simon could pull on it real hard. And that's what he did. He placed the tennis ball against the stretchy band. And pulled. Rosie and I braced ourselves, digging our feet into the grass. Simon pulled. We braced. Simon bent down, closed one eye, and drew an imaginary line between the tennis ball in our giant homemade slingshot—and the soccer ball up in the

tree. My legs were getting wobbly. Rosie's were too. I could see them trembling. Simon closed both his eyes for one second, opened them—and let go. With fishing line trailing behind it, the tennis ball zoomed up toward the top of the tree. "Come on," Simon whispered. "Come on!" It was a perfect shot. The tennis ball soared toward Max's soccer ball. It bounced against the branch above the ball, fell back and bounced against the branch below it. Then it wrapped around that lower branch a couple of times. The tennis ball hung and swung there. The trailing fishing line hung there too. "Yes!" Simon yelled. Rosie and I stepped out of the exercise band—and

looked to the soccer field. Max was jogging toward us. The three of us raced to the tree. We took hold of the hanging fishing line—and yanked on it.

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