The Magic Soccer Ball

Chapter One

Jack kicked an ordinary soccer ball across the park. It looked normal, felt normal; but the odd-looking old man who gave it to him, insisted it was magic.

Jack peered across the field in the direction the little man had gone. He thought about following the man. He knew he shouldn’t, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Wait,” he bellowed across the empty park. “Come back, please.”

Jack kicked the ball closer to the edge of the grass and waited for the man to reply.

“What is it?” a gravely voice asked. “I really can’t help you,” the man insisted. He was shorter than Jack by a few inches. He wore a green plaid pants, a rumpled white shirt and a bright purple bowtie. His wrinkly face was covered in gray stubble and fixed in an expression of annoyance.

“I just want to know what this ball does.” Jack looked down at the black and white ball at his feet.

“All I can tell you is that it’s magic,” the man replied, adjusting the bow tie around his neck. “You’ll find out, soon enough.”

Jack stared at the old man, expecting him to continue. “What do you mean? Is it like the golden hen in Jack and the Beanstalk? Does it lay golden eggs? Will it leave gold behind when I kick it?” Jack tested his theory. He tapped the ball gently with his toe. Nothing happened. “I guess not. What does it…” Jack was talking to himself. He looked towards the spot where the man had been standing. He had vanished.

“Hey, you didn’t answer me,” Jack cried and he spun around, searching for the old man. “Hello? Hello, mister, where are you?”

Jack searched in vain for the man. He looked across the park, in the bushes, even in the parking lot. Every bench was empty. The park was deserted. Jack’s red ten-speed was leaning against the telephone pole where he had left it.

“Oh man, now what?” Jack sighed and picked up the ball. He examined it carefully, looking far any hidden messages in the tiny print. The only writing he found read “Made in China.” The stitching between the white and black pentagons was even all over. Jack dropped it on the grass in disgust. He started to walk away, but changed his mind. He turned back and picked up the ball again. He tucked it under his arm, mounted his bike and pedaled away.

As he pedaled, Jack thought what the man had said. He couldn’t imagine what kind of magic this ball did. He decided to stop at his friend Mark’s house. Maybe he’d be able to help figure out what the ball actually does.

Jack coasted up the driveway, laid his bike carelessly on the grass, and ran up to the front door. Without knocking, Jack flung open the front door and yelled for his friend: “Mark, are you here?” Jack eagerly pushed through the kitchen door, expecting to see his friend sitting at the counter.

“Mark, where are you?”

“Jack?” a female voice answered from another room. “Mark’s in the backyard.” Mark’s mother walked into the kitchen, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans. She had a towel over one shoulder and her blonde hair in a ponytail, cascaded down her back. “He’s playing Frisbee with Duke.”

“Thanks, Mrs. G,” Jack replied as he rushed through the back door, letting it slam behind him. “Sorry,” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Mark, wait till you hear this,” Jack shouted excitedly to his friend. Mark was leaning against a tree in the backyard. His lanky frame clad in jeans and a faded yellow Sponge Bob T-shirt. Mark’s dirty blonde hair was spiked all over, reminding Jack of a porcupine.

“What’s up?” Mark asked as he flipped the Frisbee across the yard. Duke, a playful chocolate lab, bounded after it at top speed.

“You’re not going to believe this. A weird-looking little man gave me this soccer ball. He said it was magic. He left before I could find out what kind of magic it does.”

“Really?” Mark replied, his eyes brightening with interest.

Yeah, really. I sure wish he would come back and tell me what kind of magic it does.” Jack tossed the ball over to Mark. Mark caught it easily and inspected it as Jack had done earlier. Suddenly, a big poof of green smoke appeared only a few yards from Jack. Duke started barking ferociously. The little man with the purple bow tie appeared as the smoke blew away. Jack and Mark stared at the man, mouths open in surprise.

“So, you’ve used your first wish, smarty-pants,” the man reported. “Couldn’t you wish for something that didn’t involve me?”

Neither Jack nor Mark knew what to say. They stared at the man then back at the ball. “Sorry,” Jack apologized to the old man. “I didn’t know it was the wishing type of magic.”

“Did you think it was going to do your homework for you or something?” the man said sarcastically.

“Can I really wish for anything I want?” Jack asked. “Wow! Mark, can you believe it?”