Not My Kind of Hero

by Pippa Grant

But Junie strides right up to Flint, takes the ball from him, tucks it under her arm, and faces the crowd. “I was out here kicking it around yesterday, and when I turned one of my cones, it whispered, ‘June. Juniper. That barn is so ugly. If you kick me, I’ll take it down,’” June answers dramatically. A few people share nervous glances, but more laugh or giggle. “So I was like, ‘No, ball. No. That’s bad. That’s wrong.’ And the ball whispered, ‘But if you don’t use me to take it down now, someone could get hurt if they’re inside when it falls. You need to do this. You need to do this to save lives.’ And so I trusted the ball, and I trusted the universe. I knew if the ball was lying, it would bounce off, but instead, it went right through the wall and took down the whole barn.” A few people look at me. I shrug. “She took the barn down with the ball. That part’s true.” “Saw it myself,” Flint says. “She had to have hit the side at exactly the right weak spot to do it,” I add, “but she did it. I actually think the ball did talk to her.” “I have a way with balls,” Junie announces. She blinks, her face goes redder than a tomato, and Flint and I both rush in to save her at the exact same time.

This entire fucking scene makes me sick. It’s so cringe.