“Let’s roll in the tire,”

“Let’s roll in the tire,”

“Let’s roll in the tire,” I suggested.
Jem sighed. “You know I’m too big.”
“You c’n push.”
I ran to the back yard and pulled an old car tire from under the house. I slapped it
up to the front yard. “I’m first,” I said.
Dill said he ought to be first, he just got here.
Jem arbitrated, awarded me first push with an extra time for Dill, and I folded
myself inside the tire.
Until it happened I did not realize that Jem was offended by my contradicting him
on Hot Steams, and that he was patiently awaiting an opportunity to reward me.
He did, by pushing the tire down the sidewalk with all the force in his body.
Ground, sky and houses melted into a mad palette, my ears throbbed, I was
suffocating. I could not put out my hands to stop, they were wedged between my
chest and knees. I could only hope that Jem would outrun the tire and me, or that I
would be stopped by a bump in the sidewalk. I heard him behind me, chasing and
shouting.
The tire bumped on gravel, skeetered across the road, crashed into a barrier and
popped me like a cork onto pavement. Dizzy and nauseated, I lay on the cement
and shook my head still, pounded my ears to silence,

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