He heard some of the softball players laughing, too.
“I live in Atlanta,” he shouted down to the officer. “Around the corner. On Brookridge Drive.”
Several officers and firefighters held their ears. Evan’s voice came out louder than he had planned.
Evan took a step toward them.
The firefighters raised a firehose. Several others readied their hatchets.
“He’s dangerous!” Evan heard Conan shout. “Watch out! He’s really dangerous!”
That got everyone shouting and screaming.
The playground was filling with people. Neighborhood people. Kids and their parents. Cars stopped and people climbed out to see why the crowd had gathered.
More police cars bumped over the grass. Their wailing sirens added to the deafening noise, the shouts and cries, the frightened murmurs.
The noise. The staring eyes. The pointed fingers.
It all started to make Evan dizzy.
He felt his legs tremble. His forehead throbbed.
The police had formed a line. They started to circle Evan.
As they closed in, Evan felt himself explode. “I can’t take any more!” he screamed, raising his fists. “Stop it! Stop it! All of you! Get away! Leave me alone! I mean it!”
Silence as the sirens cut off. The voices hushed.
And then Evan heard the red-haired police officer shout to the others: “He’s turned violent. We have to bring him down!”
Evan didn’t have time to be frightened.
The firehoses chugged and gurgled—then shot out thick streams of water.
Evan ducked low. Dove forward. Tried to get away from the roaring water.
The force of the water stream ripped the ground to his side.
Evan dodged to the other side.
Wow! That’s powerful! he thought, horrified. The water is strong enough to knock me over!
Frightened shouts rose up over the roar of the water.
Evan plunged through the line of dark-uniformed police officers—and kept running. “Don’t shoot!” he screamed. “Don’t shoot me! I’m not from another planet! I’m just a boy!”
He didn’t know if they could hear him or not.
He dodged past several startled onlookers. A long hook-and-ladder stood in his path.
He stopped. Glanced back.
Firefighters were turning the hoses. The powerful spray arced high. Water crashed to the ground just behind Evan, loud as thunder.
Kids and parents were running in all directions, frantic, frightened expressions locked on their faces.
Evan took a deep breath. Bent his knees. And leaped over the fire truck in his path.
He heard shouts of surprise behind him. He vaulted high over the truck. Landed hard on the other side. Stumbled. Caught his balance.
Then, ducking low, his arms stretched out in front of him, Evan ran.
His long legs carried him away quickly. As he reached the street, a low tree branch popped up as if from nowhere.
Evan dipped his head just in time.
Leaves scratched over his forehead, but he kept running.
Got to watch out for tree branches, he warned himself. Got to remember that I’m two stories tall.
Breathing hard, he plunged across the street. The late afternoon sun was lowering behind the trees. The shadows were longer now, and darker. Evan’s shadow seemed a mile long as it stretched out in front of him.
He heard the rise and fall of shrill sirens behind him. Heard angry shouts. Heard the thud of footsteps, people running after him.
Where can I hide? he asked himself. Where will I be safe?
