That girl could throw, on Scifi Sunday

I was standing out front of my house, tossing a tennis-ball into the air and catching it. I really wanted someone to throw it to but it was one of those times when all the neighbor kids didn't like me. I was naturally good at throwing a ball hard, far and accurately and sometimes I could convince my friend Richie  to stand at one end of the dead-end street we lived on, while I stood at the other and threw him the ball. He could nearly always catch it, but could never throw it all the way back to me; it always bounced at least once.
        Richie  was one of them, today, so I just threw the ball as high and as straight upwards as I could and caught it. Jeffrey, Harry, Joey, Adam, Willy, little Margie, (her brothers always called her "maggie" and Peter were standing in front of John John's house, laughing and plotting against me. We were all nearly the same age, around eleven. There were two older brothers of our group; Tim, who was Richie's elder by three years, and Johnny, who was the eldest of six brothers and sisters, many of which were standing in front of John John's house. They were off doing things that teenagers do, having nothing much to do with us little kids.
        I ignored the kids across the street, and they ignored me, for the most part, but, from time to time, one of them looked directly at me, then said something to the group who would all laugh with the abandon of conspirator's plotting against a common enemy.
        I was nearly tired of the game of actively ignoring them and was going to go inside and watch cartoons when Willy, the youngest of us all at eight years old, broke away from the group and started my way. He'd been sitting on his bicycle and rode it over to where I stood, a smirk on his face. He stopped with the front tire nearly between my legs and said, "Hey Donna!" His smile was a bit too bright for my tastes, and I suspected a trick, but wanted to get it over with, knowing that after a cruel prank the outcast was typically taken back into the fold, all being forgiven.
        "Hey," I said.
        "What'cha doin'?" he asked.
        Chatting wasn't Willy's specialty, and he usually avoided it, so I knew he was waiting for an opening to do something physical. Usually the prank involved luring the victim behind a bush to be pushed into a puddle, or was given a candy-bar that someone spit on. There would be lots of laughter then they would chase the victim down before they could get home and tell their mom, and profusely apologize, making things even again.
        When I saw Willy coming I'd thrown the ball into the air a few more times, but stopped when he got close. I didn't want to be attacked while looking up.
        "Right now I'm holding a tennis ball", I said.
        "Oh," he said.
        It suddenly annoyed me that we were going through this little dance, and I'd decided that this time I wasn't going to be drawn in so easily, and if I was hit or kicked that I was going to jump on him and beat him up. I knew that my beating him up would start a full-scale war with all the kids who lived on our dead-end street; worse, with his older brothers and sisters. Willy was the youngest of them, and they were always fighting amongst themselves, until someone outside of their family hurt one of them, which caused them all to stand behind the offended member. I felt I was ready to do battle. I was a girl, but I was the toughest kid on the block.

        I took a step back from Willy's front tire, and threw the tennis-ball high into the air: not as high as I had been throwing it, but high enough to have to look up in order to catch it. I saw Willy tense, then relax when he saw I was going to jump back to avoid his attack, if it came. I saw, looking over his shoulder that everyone in front of John John's house was watching. 'Good' I thought, 'I won't have to brag to them about how I kicked Willy's ass'.
        I took another step back towards my house, and this time threw ball as high as I could, thinking I could detect movement from Willy with my head back, but by the time I'd sensed it he'd rolled forwards on his bike and punched me hard in the throat then stepped on the pedals of his bike and raced away.
        The blow took my breath away, and I fell back onto my behind, both hands clutching my throat, embarrassed more than hurt. Willy was racing to the group in front of John John's but they were scattering like roaches, in all different directions. Since he no longer had the safety of numbers to protect him he swerved off to ride to the end of the dead-end street, then turned right.
        When I could see clearly again, and could breath reasonably well, I grabbed up my tennis-ball and moved around to where I could see him between the houses, racing down the hill. The street ended at the bottom of the hill and he had to make a choice to go right or left. He went right, which meant I would still be able to see him. And, even though he was now a block away I could hear him laughing maniacally.
        I moved to the opposite end of my house, which lined up with the house behind it, knowing I would see him come out that side. I saw that his big brother Johnny and Tommy's older brother Tim were at the corner Willy was racing towards, straddling their bikes and talking. I knew I could throw my tennis-ball that far but thought I would lose some accuracy with the bit of wind that was blowing that day, and decided on a rock about half the size of the tennis-ball.
        I held the rock in my hand feeling it's weight, allowing my muscles to get used to it, thinking that I probably couldn't hit him, though I knew I could throw the rock as far away as he'd be and then some.
        And then I saw him.
        He was struggling because of the short steep hill that ended where his brother and Tim were, but he was still laughing his ass off. The older boys were ignoring him. Feeling exposed with the evil thoughts in my head I looked around to see that no one was watching. The others must have went into their houses through back doors in order to avoid looking like they were running away from anything that might have happened in the street, in case their mom's noticed that someone had punched me in the throat.
        The fact that Willy had rode away like a chicken, and that things hadn't gone to plan, with placating apologies from everyone, I decided that I was going to hit Willy with that rock: that I would not miss. Then I cocked my arm and let it fly, throwing it somewhat ahead of where Willy was, knowing the rock would take a little time to arrive.
        I stood there watching the rock, amazed from my own ability to throw so well, and flushed from the excitement of doing it. It seemed to float in the air. I had to look up so high to see it that I couldn't see the ground, only baby blue sky and white puffy clouds, and a small gray rock. It was beautiful.
        I began to think the rock had gotten stuck in all that blue, or that maybe the dot I was following was really a bird, when it began to sink, then rapidly fall. I got dizzy following its course out of the washed out blue and into the over bright colors of the earth and lost sight of it. I looked for Willy, who, in the instant my eyes found him, fell off his bike, halfway between the last house he'd passed and where his big brother and Tim were. I felt as if I'd knocked him off his bike with my thoughts, but I saw the rock bounce off into the grass across the street.
        All the blood rushed to my feet, and my feet scrambled into my house where I shot up to my room. Mom ignored this, it being summer, and having endured many explosive entrances and exits from her son who was addled by so much free time and lack of structure.
        I rushed to the window in my room which was on the back side of our house, and watched and listened as Tim picked up his friend's bloody little brother and place him on the handle-bars of his bike. Johnny seemed indifferent to the cries of his little brother, who was usually crying do to some cruelty he'd caused. He did look puzzled, though.
        Tim's arrival on the dead-end street was met by several moms including Willy's, who was in a house-dress looking like she'd just woke up from a nap. Willy's cries could be heard for blocks around.
        I was standing at the front door, forcing myself to look concerned, so that no one would suspect I had caused all the havoc happening on the street. In minutes, Willy's mom had slipped on house-shoes and having installed Willy in the front seat with a dishtowel on the bloody wound on his forehead, squealed away down the street.
        Joey,  and Johnny hung around on our dead-end and talked to the mom's who had come outside to try and make sense of the chaos. I saw my enemies standing next to their houses and in their backyards; guilty looks on their faces, as if they felt responsible for what had happened to their young assassin.
        It seemed that no one was pointing a finger at me, so, to make my innocence more believable I went outside and stood near the group of mom's and older brothers so I could hear what they thought had happened. As I stood there John John came up and said 'hey' as if nothing had happened. Then the rest of the kids came to gather with us all in the street to listen.
        I was annoyed to find that Joey seemed to think a small meteor had fallen out of the sky and beaned little Willy. Johnny thought that that was ridiculous, and that a bird had dropped a rock on his little brother. John John's mom kept asking Tim if maybe Willy hadn't fallen off his bike and hit his head. Tim and Johnny both denied the possibility of this because Willy cried out before he fell.

        Harry,  nudged me and asked me what had happened. Widening my eyes I said, "I don't know".
        Eventually the group separated into it's individual parts of older brothers, mom's and kids, then the mom's went back to their houses, and we all ran off to play hide and seek.
        I had been scared that someone would find out I had hit Willy with that rock, but now  I was annoyed to find that no one even suspected that I had done such a thing. Everybody knew how well I could throw. I had hoped someone might at least have said, "Well, you know Donna's got a pretty good arm, maybe she threw that rock." I really wanted to tell someone, but thought better of it. I might have to throw  a few more rocks in the future.