Paul Hostovsky

Praying

In the middle of stickball, me and Eddy Kaye

noticed it in his driveway. "It's illegal

to kill them while they're praying," Eddy said

as he dangled the stick above its head. A little

water dripped down from the garden hose

which hung in loops beside the driveway, making

a dark thin stream that ran past the motionless

mantis. "It must be thirsty," I heard myself saying,

and thought of nudging it toward the water. But Eddy

nudged me first: "No one would know if we did.

Do you think it'd bleed red or green?" In the end

we neither killed it nor helped it to drink. Instead—

a most unlikely act, even a remarkable one—

we did nothing. Nothing at all. We left it alone.