It was a sweltering Tuesday afternoon in late July when the sign first appeared, tacked to the telephone pole outside the Piggly Wiggly:
But by 7:45 PM, a dozen kids had gathered by the old iron bridge. They ranged from nine to fourteen, all of them barefoot, all of them holding flashlights or jars full of lightning bugs. They called themselves the Lil Humpers — not because of anything crude, but because their favorite after-school game was to build tiny dirt ramps for their bikes and “hump” over them, backs arched like cats, wheels barely skimming the ground. lil humpers
For one perfect second, she flew — over the creek, over the mossy rocks, over the summer itself. The crickets went silent. The lightning bugs held their breath. It was a sweltering Tuesday afternoon in late