Young Adult Fiction
The front window had been shattered by a huge rock that was now lying on the floor of the store. Father ran outside. I followed. A banner was hanging from the door...In large, red, hand-painted letters were the words:
Germans go home.
I can't resist tossing a few simple tricks—rock the baby, elevator, tidal wave. My hands whir, my arms loosen up. I've only practiced at home, but this feels pretty fine. I take up more of the sidewalk. People weave around me, staying clear of the yo-yo as it extends and then glides back. There's only me and the yo-yo working with the noise and confusion of the street corner.