Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.*
With their sticks they were hitting the bushes, poking here and there. Easier to hit and poke and wait for a grunt of yelp than to pull the bushes apart and look inside.
Nevertheless, we hugged the ground trying hard not to giggle. If we were lucky they would go the other direction either thinking they could always come back this way or simply too lazy to climb the fence. Either way it looked like our gamble was going to pay off, if we could only hold onto our giggles.
It was fun fooling the older kids. They didn’t really want to play with us. I don’t know why. We weren’t that much smaller. Sure, they might rather be playing baseball or football and little kids couldn’t hit and a football was hard to catch so we weren’t much good. We could play hide and seek though. They usually found us. Then it was our turn. We almost never found them. They didn’t play fair, unless they thought an adult was watching. Otherwise while we were counting they would toss a sweater or a jacket into the bushes somewhere then run off to play at the park or go to one house or the other to watch the Three Stooges or something.
They turned and disappeared on the other side of the field. We waited and waited for them to come back. Then I heard mom calling us and I knew they weren’t coming back. They were inside watching TV. “Where were you guys hiding?” My brother asked. “Don’t tell us. You can use it again next time and we’ll find you for sure.” I saw his pal smirk and I knew one of them must have heard us giggling.
*The first line from William Faulkner’s “The sound and the Fury”