“Moo-oo,” she said, looking for all the world like another May Belle with her big, brown droopy eyes.
“Hey, Miss Bessie,” Jess said soothingly. “Just go on back to sleep.”
Miss Bessie strolled over to a greenish patch—most of the field was brown and dry—and yanked up a mouthful.
“That’a girl. Just eat your breakfast. Don’t pay me no mind.”
He always started at the northwest corner of the field, crouched over like the runners he had seen on Wide World of Sports.
“Bang,” he said, and took off flying around the cow field.
Miss Bessie strolled toward the center, still following him with her droopy eyes, chewing slowly.
She didn’t look very smart, even for a cow, but she was plenty bright enough to get out of Jess’s way.
His straw-colored hair flapped hard against his forehead, and his arms and legs flew out every which way.
He had never learned to run properly, but he was long-legged for a ten-year-old, and no one had more grit than he.
Lark Creek Elementary was short on everything, especially athletic equipment, so all the balls went to the upper grades at recess time after lunch.
Even if a fifth grader started out the period with a ball, it was sure to be in the hands of a sixth or seventh grader before the hour was half over.
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