I hid behind a leaf pile just to the left of little Noah’s swing set. Both my hands gripped the dried-up leaves. I winced at the crunch it made. He didn’t hear me; I was sure of it. Then I saw it, the bubbles just above my head. They burst and the water almost hit me but I dived out of the way just in time. That was too close for comfort. I had no choice but to attack. I threw the leaves but he was too fast and I missed. I was out of ammunition so I ran towards the towering pile of leaves. He blew again but the bubbles were awfully slow. I snatched the withered leaves and turned around, ready to attack once again. But he was ready and had surrounded himself with bubbles. There was no way I could ever reach him without getting hit. I could see him squeeze the container tightly while blowing bubbles at rapid speeds showing no signs of quitting. He was a man who wasn’t going to lose. I wasn’t going to lose either, not after everything I’ve survived. We stared at each other waiting for the other to make a move. Then out of nowhere the wind picked up and the bubbles started heading towards me a lot quicker than before. This was it for me. When they burst, the water would hit me. There was no hope for me but I wasn’t going to let him win. I had leaves in both my hands. I crunched the leaves in my hand as I watched the bubbles fly over my head. I threw and the bubbles popped. The soapy water splashed on my face and I went down. But not before seeing the leaves hit Noah square on the shoulder. He was down too. We lay there on either side of the garden, both defeated. I closed my eyes.
I opened one eye and watched Noah get up. I got up too. It was my turn with the bubbles.