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because you didn’t see anything here doesn’t mean you won’t
     see something someday.”
    Sylvester and Snooky rode back to town together but parted at the ballpark. Once Syl was sure Snooky was gone, he veered toward
     the local shopping mall to find the camera store.
    He was so busy looking at store signs that he didn’t notice that his bike wasn’t riding smoothly. When he finally did, he
     groaned. His back tire was flat!
    He pulled into the mall parking lot to consider his options. He carried a patch kit for just such emergencies, so he could
     fix the tire. Or he could call his mother to come get him. He decided to call. But when he looked for his phone inside his
     gear bag, he couldn’t find it. He groaned again, remembering that he’d left it at home, plugged into its charger.
    Patch kit it is!
He removed his gear bag from the back of the bike to make the job easier. He’d just started working when he heard a familiar
     voice.
    “Ew, pew, what’s that smell? Must be a Codd-
fish!
”
    It was his archenemy, Duke Farrell. Duke was a pitcher; every time they met on the diamond, he did his best to make Syl look
     like a loser at the plate. But Syl had always let his bat do the talking and turned the tables so that it was Duke who ended
     up with egg on his face.
    Syl glanced back and saw that Duke’s sidekick, Steve Button, was with him. “Leave me alone, you guys,” he growled.
    “Let’s play a game first,” Duke said. “This is one of my favorites. I call it keep-away!” He grabbed Syl’s gear bag.
    “Hey, give it back!” Sylvester shouted, standing up.
    Duke waggled his finger. “Not until you play!” He flung the bag over Syl’s head into Steve’s waiting hands.
    Syl tried to snatch it, with no success. Frustration boiled up inside him. “I don’t have time for this! Give me my bag!”
    Steve hefted the bag over his head. “Make me!”
    “You asked for it!” Syl said and then barreled straight at Steve.
    “Ooof!” Steve fell onto his backside. The bag flew out of his hands and landed right in front of an oncoming pickup truck!
    Crunch!
    As the truck rolled over the bag, the driver’s head snapped up. Steve scrambled to his feet and took off with Duke right behind
     him. The woman leaned out her window and stared at the lump behind her tire, a look of horror on her face. “What
is
that?”
    “It is—was—my baseball stuff,” Syl replied sadly.
    While the woman parked the pickup, Syl retrieved his belongings. He sat on the curb and examined the contents one by one.
     His glove and ball were fine, but his water bottle had been crushed to smithereens. So had the camera.
    The woman put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no, look what I did!”
    “It wasn’t your fault,” Syl protested. “It was those other boys. They threw the bag in your way.”
    But the woman shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I was texting when I pulled in here. I should have been paying
     attention to my driving, but I wasn’t.” She sat down next to him and put her head in her hands. “What if that had been a
child?
”
    Sylvester patted her back awkwardly. “It wasn’t, though.”
    After a few minutes, the woman took a deep breath and stood up. “I’ll replace your things, I promise,” she said. “But for
     now, let me give you a lift home.”
    Syl nodded. “Can I use your phone to call my mom first?”
    Fifteen minutes later, the truck pulled into the Coddmyers driveway. Mrs. Coddmyer hurried out.
    “I’m fine, Mom,” Syl said before she could pepper him with questions.
    The woman and his mother talked while Syl unloaded his bike and his gear. He gave the broken camera one last look before dropping
     it into the trash can.
    Sorry, Snooky,
he thought.
I tried.
    After the woman left, Mrs. Coddmyer showed Syl a check she had given her. “She insisted on buying us a new camera,” she said.
     “I told her it wasn’t necessary, that your phone can take pictures and that the