The volleyball knocked Jill square in the nose, pushing her to the ground and bounding off like a trampoline before careening down the hill.
"Hey!" Jack cried, as he watched the ball roll out of sight. He jutted his lip out into a perfect 10-year-old's pout and crossed his arms indignantly.
Jill stood up, rubbing her nose, which was still intact. She tilted her head at Jack, and said, briskly, "Oops. Sorry."
"What're we gonna do now?" Jack whined. "That was the only ball I had."
Jill shrugged. "We could go get it."
Jack groaned and stomped around. Jill peered down the steep hill, watching the ball roll to a stop in front of some bushes at the bottom. She looked back at Jack trudging towards his house. It was one of three houses on the hill; the second was Jill's, and the third was Auntie Greta, who baked the most delicious blueberry pies.
Although the hill was surrounded by houses, most people didn't bother making the trek up Blueberry Hill. That is, unless word got around that Auntie Greta had baked a pie. People came in droves for a slice and a story.
But today, there was no pie, or Auntie Greta, for that matter.
Jill followed Jack into the house, hands behind her back. "C'mon, Jack, Auntie won't be back until tomorrow. Let's go down the hill. We won't miss her, promise."
Jack plopped down on the hallway floor, cross-legged, and still pouting indignantly. "She promised she'd be back today."
"What are you, a child?"
Jack made an angry noise that sounded something like a hiss before burying his face in his arms. Jill sighed and turned to leave.
Suddenly, a faint jingle rang outside, slowly getting louder. Jill peeked her head out the door and just barely catches a glimpse the white ice cream truck as it breaches the top of Blueberry Hill, singing its song, before she races back to Jack and tugs on his arm.
"Jack, Jack!" she said, tugging at his sleeve.
Jack shook his head. Jill sighed and crossed her arms, listening as the truck passed the house and began its descent. Suddenly, and idea popped into her head, and her lips spread into a devilish grin.
"Last one down the hill...," She sprinted towards the door and swung it open, "...has to buy the other one ice cream!"
She heard his screams of "Not fair!" echoing from the house as she sprinted toward the hill. She stopped at the edge, looking down. She heard clumsy footsteps behind her, gaining on her. Before she could turn around, Jack zipped into her line of view, as if flying, and dove down the hill much like the volleyball had earlier.
Laughing, she fell on the ground and tumbled down the hill.
Feet over head, then head over feet, over and over again. The world was spinning like a chaotic carousel, but Jill kept laughing. She was sure the new blue shirt her mom got her was ruined, but she didn't care. She heard Jack screech as he too rolled headlong down Blueberry Hill.
They were halfway down the hill, where there was a slight reprieve from the steepness, and Jill got to her feet and glanced behind her. For a split second, she saw a streak of Jack's yellow shirt, and then he was at her feet with no sign of stopping.
"Jack—!" she started to yell, but he careened into her. They both toppled down the hill, a blur of blue and yellow, tangled limbs, shrieks and laughs.
Suddenly, they rolled to a stop, right next to a bush. The two silently exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing.
"Hey, look, the ball!" Jack said, reaching for the volleyball that had rolled under the bush. Jill stood up and brushed herself off, examining the green streaks on her shirt. She shrugged.
"So since neither of us won—" Jill started.
Jack jumped up suddenly and sprinted towards the truck, one arm swinging wildly while the other held the volleyball to his chest.
"Last one to the truck buys the ice creeeeam!" he shouted.
"Not fair!" Jill yelled back, racing after him. They both raced, pushing at the other while laughing, as the truck came to a stop at the bottom of Blueberry Hill.
Just a little endearing slice of life story! What should I write next?