"I don't know." I broke off a twig as we passed a tree. "What about you?"
"We got it coming." He looked at the sky.
"Yeah, but will we get it?"
He didn't answer that. "I wonder if it will be bright?"
"It is now."
"It might cloud over."
"It won't matter. It'll split the sky." That was one thing sure. Clouds or anything weren't going to stand in the way.
We went on and found Howie. Howie is a Negro, smaller than we are and twice as fast. He can throw a football farther and straighter than anyone else on the team. We pal around quite a bit, especially in the football season.
He came out of the house like he was walking on whipped cream. I didn't let that fool me. More than once I've tried to tackle him during a practice game. Howie was carrying a model of a rocket ship, CO2 powered. It didn't work. We said hi all around and then he suggested a game of keep-away. We'd left the football at Paul's and we couldn't so we walked over to the park.