The Soot Princess [Hiatus]

12-Juggling

Eevon

As I walked out the back door, I grabbed a soccer ball from the bin and let the door slam behind me. I kicked off my tennis shoes and let my feet feel the cool grass beneath them. I dribbled the ball away from the house. Ms. Walker has been known to... emm... speak very harshly to those who have hit the house, even though it's made of brick.

Once I got far enough out, I started juggling the ball (it that thing where you use you entire body, except your hands, to keep the ball from touching the ground). I bounced the ball off my foot and count one, head two, foot three, knee four... I got thirty-three before dropping the ball and having to start again. My record is 278 juggles.

I started again. Foot one, knee two...

The ball had hit off an odd angle.

"Ahhhh! Shit!" I had been at 120. I ran after it and it hit the chain-link fence. I backed up and tried again.

"269..." I panted out getting excited as I neared my record, "273, 74... 80, 281..."

"Hey," someone said.

"What!" I stopped my record juggle until the soccer ball bounced on my unaware head, "Shoot!" I caught it on my shoulder. "Hold on a minute..." I continue my juggle. My new record is now 362. "What do you want?" I ask through the fence, panting a bit.

"I just saw you bouncing that ball like a pro could. I couldn't help, but watch," he explained.

"I've had some experience and a lot of practice..."

"I can believe that," he replied.

In sixth grade, the soccer club wouldn't let me join, until I could out juggle their captain. I wasn't successful, but I wasn't very good back then either.

"Excuse me for not introducing myself to you sooner. The name is," he jumped the fence, "Jamaul Hastings and you are?"

"If you can steal the soccer ball from me I'll tell you. Deal?"

"Why not!" He threw out his foot to take the ball, I just moved it to the other side of my foot. His move was so easy to read!

"You'll never get it!" I cried and ran to the woods at the back of the property. I kicked the ball over a tree branch and bounced it off the top of my head, so it landed a few feet a head of me.

"Wait up," I heard a small voice.

The guy can't even keep up with me... How is he supposed to be able to take the ball from me?

I hit the ball into a tree and it got stuck between two branches. I climbed up and sat next to it.

Jamaul ran up to the tree with his chest heaving. "How in the world do you, A) run so fast, B) can climb that tree after running that fast, and C) have that much precision? Could you please tell me your name for my efforts?"

"It's called stamina, energy, practice, and no."

"First and last letter, come on!"

"E and N"

"Evan?" He asked.

"Eh, close..." I jumped down from the tree, taking the soccer ball with me.

"Wai..."

I landed on the ground. "What?"

"You just jumped from like fifteen or twenty feet, are you okay?" Jamaul questioned my action.

"Yeah! I do it all the time. How else am I going to get down three flights of stairs to get from my room to the dinning room, before everyone else?"

"Everyone else?"

"Yeah! I have like 30 temporary brothers and sisters."

"Huh?"

"You did know this was an orphanage, right?" I asked.

"No... And now the mood got suddenly depressing!"

"It's okay, I don't remember my parents..."

"Eevon!" Ema yelled though I could just make out the words.

"Coming!" I yelled back, "Sorry, gotta run and by the way, you're trespassing."

"I got your name now and it's time for me to be getting off, I've got a get home before dinner or my Dad'll kill me, again. Anyway, thanks for the warning. "

I ran off towards the house with the ball in my hands.

"There you are! Come on Eevon! We need to get going if we are to get to the palace on time, and for pete's sake! How did you get so filthy in a hour? Never mind, don't answer that. Go wash off what you can with a washcloth in the sink and make sure you get your feet!"

I leaned over the sink as the dripping cloth does its job. I wiped off my feet last and slip on a pair of cheep flip flops on my way out the door to the garage, where in the van sat the others waiting on me.

"'Bout time you got here, Eevon," one of them pouted, obviously was mad at me for delaying the trip to the palace.

When we arrived we went through extensive security, several check points and so forth. We finally got through the last security check and we were led to what appeared to be a waiting room.

"Please wait here momentarily, while I get the stylist that will help you get ready for the ball."

In walked Mr. Goulse, followed by several designers. I backed up into the corner of the room. It's not like I'm afraid of him, but he makes me uneasy. I could put him in the hospital now that I have protection for my hands. I'll stay under the radar, though; for now.

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