Bang

I heard a bang. It was the boy next door, Farrell's older brother. He had kicked the football into my yard and it hit my glass table. I went out and he apologized. No harm done. It happened again, this time hitting my house. I went out and asked him to please kick it the other way towards the empty parking lot. There was another crash. The ball was back in my yard. "You're scaring my animals and me. Each time there's a noise, I jump through my skin," I said. I picked up the football and handed it to him noticing it had very little air.
"What's your name?" I asked
"Phillip," he replied.
"With two l's?"
"Yes."
We shook hands.
"Your football needs air," I said.
"Do you have a needle and a pump?" He asked.
"I might. Wait here." I ran inside to look.
I found the pump and the needle and brought it out. We struggled with trying to fill the ball and he managed to make it work.
"Thanks!" he said.
"That might help to steer it," I said.
He walked down the driveway with the ball and vanished.