“Goal’s right here.”
Malik dropped his backpack on the dirt and set two orange cones six steps apart.
The lot had no fence. No grass. Just packed ground, a bent sign, and a few weeds by the curb.
But every day after school, kids came there to play.
A ball hit the wall behind the lot. Malik ran after it. His little sister stood near the cones and yelled, “Pass it!”
Then Mrs. Crane walked in carrying a flat box full of seed packs.
She set it on an old milk crate.
“What’s that?” Malik asked.
“A garden plan,” she said.
The block group had found money to fix the lot. They could build raised beds, add a hose, and put in a few benches.
People could grow tomatoes, beans, flowers, and herbs. Older neighbors could sit outside. Kids could help water the plants.
But the garden would take most of the open space.
Malik looked at the cones.
“So where do we play?”
Mrs. Crane looked at the dirt. “That’s what we need to talk about.”
Some neighbors said the lot looked forgotten. A garden could make it feel like part of the block again.
Other people said the lot was the only free place nearby where kids could run, kick a ball, and make up a game.
The block group put up two drawings on a folding table.
One showed rows of garden beds and benches.
The other showed a flat open space with new goals and lights.
Malik’s sister picked up a seed packet. “Can we grow strawberries?”
Malik kicked the ball once. It rolled past the cones.
“Can we still play here?” he asked.
Mrs. Crane looked from the seed packet to the empty lot.
The block group would meet that night.
They had to pick what the space should become before anyone started digging.