The Ten-Square Sprint

A giant hopscotch course was freshly chalked across the park path in roaring magenta and sky-blue—ten numbered squares daring anyone with boots to try. I had hitched a swift ride out in the mesh bottle pouch of a neighbor's morning stroller, slipped to the asphalt, and sized up the stage. I scooped up a flat grey pebble, took aim, and flicked—skitter-clack! Dead center in square seven. Showtime! One boot down in square one. Hop! Two boots flared wide across two and three. I stuck a one-toe balance in four, whipped a sharp pirouette into five and six, and snatched the pebble clean off the ground without touching a single boundary. Ten squares cleared, zero faults!