The next morning, school started off like any other. Mr. Johnson stood at the door, greeting each of us with his usual "Good morning, class," his voice steady and clear, not a single dropped "g" in sight. He was the kind of teacher who liked things done properly. It used to catch me off guard at first—being told to mind my manners when I mumbled a quick 'mornin' without thinking—but I learned quick. This time, I made sure to look him in the eye and say it just right. "Good morning, Mr. Johnson," I said, proud of myself for remembering.

He gave me a small nod of approval, and I felt like I'd already won something, even though the day had just begun.

We started with math, going over our times tables. I liked numbers well enough when they behaved, but sometimes they didn't, and that could get frustrating. Reading was next. We took turns reading out loud from a story about a little dog that got lost but found his way home. I liked that story; it made me think about what it would feel like to get lost out in the woods, and how I'd find my way back home to Mama and Papa.

But then came recess. That was when Jacob, a boy in our class who was always full of energy and a little too confident for his own good, called out a challenge.

"Boys versus girls! Soccer! You ready, or are y'all scared?" he hollered, his voice carrying across the playground.

Abby and I shared a look. We weren't scared. Not one bit. We'd beaten them last time, and we planned to do it again.

"You're on," Abby called back, hands on her hips.

We divided up, girls on one side, boys on the other. The playground was mostly dirt, with patches of grass trying their best to grow, but it made for a good soccer field in our eyes. We didn't have proper goals—just two sticks on each end to mark the spot—but that was enough. The rules were simple: first to five wins. No goalies, no referees, and no whining. We played hard and fast, and everyone knew to watch their shins; getting kicked was part of the deal.

The game started with Jacob tapping the ball forward for the boys, his quick feet kicking up little clouds of dust. Abby was on him like a shadow, her eyes locked on the ball. She darted in and poked it loose with her toe, sending it my way. I trapped it under my foot, feeling the worn rubber of the ball press into the dirt. The boys closed in, but I twisted, pushing the ball to the side, and dashed past them. My heart pounded as I spotted Abby sprinting up the sideline.

I passed it ahead, the ball rolling over a dry patch of grass. Abby met it with a perfect touch, keeping it close as she weaved between two boys. Jacob tried to block her, arms out for balance, but she faked right and went left, leaving him spinning in place. We both laughed as she surged forward.

"I'm open!" I called, raising my hand.

Abby glanced up and flicked the ball back toward me with the side of her foot. I caught it and dribbled closer to the sticks marking the goal. Just as I prepared to shoot, Brian lunged in front of me. I kicked the ball hard, but it smacked his leg and bounced away.

Scrambling, Jacob got to it first, turning and racing toward our end of the field. Abby and I sprinted after him, our breaths coming in short bursts. He lined up a shot, but I slid in, my leg sweeping through the dust, and knocked the ball away just in time.

Abby was already moving. I scrambled to my feet and booted the ball downfield. She caught up to it with those quick strides of hers. The boys were closing in, but Abby didn't hesitate. She took a sharp kick, and the ball zipped between the two sticks.

"Goal!" she shouted, pumping her fist in the air.

We cheered, jumping up and down, our laughter mixing with the calls and groans from the boys. "Lucky shot!" Jacob yelled, but we knew better.

The game pressed on. Sweat trickled down our faces, and our shoes were covered in dust. Each team fought hard. The boys tied it up with a strong kick from Brian that skimmed right past our goal line. We answered quickly, Abby slipping through their defenses like a rabbit, scoring another one with a clever tap past Jacob's foot.

By the time it was four to four, everyone was breathless, but no one was giving up. This was how it always was—a battle of pride, speed, and grit. Jacob tried another breakaway, but this time, Abby cut him off. She stole the ball with a swift kick and charged ahead. I sprinted alongside her.

"Go for it!" I urged.

She angled toward the goal, her eyes narrowing in focus. Jacob lunged at her, but she side-stepped and struck the ball with her right foot. It sailed cleanly between the sticks.

"Five!" I yelled, arms raised in triumph.

We collapsed onto the grass, sweaty and out of breath, grinning up at the sky. The boys grumbled, but there were smiles mixed in with their frustration. We knew we'd play again tomorrow, and the rivalry would continue. That was the best part—the game never really ended. It was always waiting, right there on the dusty playground, ready for us to pick up where we left off.

"Told you we'd win," she said.

"Yup," I laughed. "They never learn."

When the bell rang, we brushed the dust off our knees and joined the crowd heading toward the cafeteria, still breathless from the game. Jacob shot me a look, half a scowl, half a grin. He was already plotting their comeback tomorrow—I could see it in his eyes. I just smirked back. Let him try.

Inside the cafeteria, the noise hit us all at once—chatter, laughter, trays clattering, and the hum of kids moving through the line. The air smelled like something fried, mixed with that warm bread smell that always made my stomach growl. We lined up, sliding our trays along the counter.

Today's lunch was chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and a soft roll. Not bad. I grabbed a chocolate milk from the cooler at the end, and Abby did the same.

Most of the seats were taken, by the time we got into the lunchroom. We glanced around, looking for a spot. Some kids were already settled in little groups—friends who sat together every day. I didn't mind sitting different places; it made things interesting.

"Over there?" Abby nodded toward an open spot near the middle of the room.

"Looks good," I said.

We slid into our seats across from a couple of girls from another class, who were busy whispering about something that had happened on the bus that morning. I didn't catch the whole story, but it sounded like someone's little brother threw up. Gross.

I focused on my nuggets, dunking one into my mashed potatoes. That was the best way to eat them—the gravy made everything better. Abby did the same. We grinned at each other like we had some kind of secret.

Jacob and his crew ended up at a table a few rows over. I could hear him carrying on, talking big like always. "We let 'em win today," he was saying loud enough for everyone to hear. "Tomorrow's gonna be different."

I snorted, shaking my head. "He's so full of it."

Abby laughed. "Yeah, but it's kinda fun watching him lose."

We ate and talked, our conversation hopping from the game to school, then to the fall festival that was coming up soon. There'd be hayrides, games, and Papa said there was gonna be a big pumpkin contest this year.

"You think your papa'll enter?" Abby asked.

"Maybe," I said, feeling a little proud. "He's real good with his tools. He could probably carve the best one there."

Lunch went by quick, like it always did. After we finished, we carried our trays over to the window where you dumped the leftovers and stacked everything up.

Once we got back to class, Mr. Johnson stood up in front and clapped his hands together. "Alright, everyone, listen up. We're starting something new today. You're going to be working on a research project. It's about the wildlife right here in Georgia."

The room got quieter. Projects meant work, but they also usually meant partnerin' up—and that was the fun part.

"We live in a special place," Mr. Johnson went on. "Georgia is home to some of the most interesting animals in the South. From the swamps to the forests, from the rivers to the fields—you'll find creatures big and small. Your job is to pick one animal that lives in Georgia, and you and a partner are going to learn all about it. Where it lives, what it eats, how it survives. You'll make a poster and tell the class what you've found."

I felt a nudge from my side. Abby was already smilin', her eyes wide with excitement. We didn't even have to say it. We were partners.

Mr. Johnson clapped his hands once more. "Find your partner and start discussing your ideas."

Me and Abby scooted our desks together so quick, our chairs made that squeaky sound on the tile floor.

"What are we pickin'?" Abby asked, already lookin' around like she had a few ideas.

I didn't even need to think. It came to me right away. I leaned in and whispered, "Gators."

Her eyes got big. "Alligators?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Papa told me all about 'em. I've seen a couple near the swamp before... from far away. And remember that one he shot the other week? We had it for dinner."

She wrinkled her nose. "I remember. I still don't know how y'all eat those things."

I laughed. "It was good!"

She giggled, then leaned back. "Okay, gators it is. That's way cooler than pickin' a bird or somethin'."

We started writin' down ideas on a piece of notebook paper—stuff like "where they live (swamps)," "what they eat," and "how big they get." I already knew a little, thanks to Papa, but Abby suggested we check out a book from the library tomorrow, just to make sure we got all the facts right.

Mr. Johnson walked around, peekin' over desks.

"What animal did you two choose?" he asked, smilin' down at us.

"Alligators," I said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a fine choice. They're fascinating creatures. Just make sure you do your research. And remember—when you present to the class, we want to speak clearly. No 'goin',' no 'eatin'.' We say going and eating."

I sighed, but Abby elbowed me, tryin' not to laugh.

"Yes, sir," I said.

The afternoon sun streamed in through the classroom windows, makin' little square patches of light on the floor. Our pencils scratched against our papers as we brainstormed more ideas for our poster. I wanted to draw a big gator with its mouth wide open, showin' all its teeth. Abby liked the idea of addin' little facts around it—like how fast they could swim, or how they sneak up on their food.

"Did you know they can grow to be like fourteen feet long?" I whispered, my voice full of the kind of awe only a kid could have.

"No way!" Abby said, eyes wide.

"Yeah, Papa said some folks down near the swamp seen ones even bigger."

She shook her head, smilin'. "I don't think I wanna see one that close."

We both laughed, but in the back of my mind, I thought about the time Papa took me fishin' and we saw one glide through the water, just its eyes peekin' out above the surface. It had made my heart race, but it was the kind of fear that made you feel alive.

By the time the bell rang, I felt excited. This wasn't just homework—it was somethin' I cared about. Somethin' that reminded me of home.

And I knew Papa would be proud.

As we grabbed our backpacks and walked toward the door, Abby grinned. "Tomorrow, we hit the library. We're gonna make the best gator poster ever."

"Yep," I said, feelin' that same excitement buzzin' in my chest. "We sure will."