The Wrecking Ball

"Oh, Miss, are you trying to get in the way of demolition?" one of the men asked, laughing and flicking his cigarette ashes, which floated aimlessly to the ground and died out.

I wrinkled my eyebrows in confusion. Then, I realized, they must have thought I was some crazy person on a mission, ready to stand in the way of a wrecking ball. Well, I might as well play the part and not disappoint them, I decided.

"That wrecking ball has to go through me first," I said, matter-of-factly. Then I wondered if the wrecking ball was more of a myth than a reality. Did they still actually use them? It just seemed like something from old television news shows.

I leaned against the doorway. The cut glass and wood design were from 1849, as I knew so well from all my research. Then a second thought crossed my mind.

Would I need a lawyer if I got arrested? Colleen wasn't quite a lawyer yet. And neither was Tom. Maybe Tom's father would give me a discount, if I asked nicely. Of course, he was probably still laughing about the time I stuck my tongue to the metal of their front entranceway when I was only eight, on a dare from his son. It wasn't funny to me. But shouldn't I have tried things that were done only in comic strips.

Maybe I should be a character in a comic strip now-my life certainly seemed to follow that trend.