The day they put me on a poster at the US Open

Mom put a hat on me. A real one, white, with the tennis ball logo on it. I let her do it because she gets this look on her face when she's excited and I can't say no to that look.

We went to a place with a big blue court and lights everywhere, even though it wasn't dark yet. There were tennis balls all over. Not like the one ball I have at home that I carry everywhere. Like a hundred balls. I did not know what to look at first.

Someone put me right in front of the net. There were racquets leaning near me and I wanted to grab one so bad. My mouth was already halfway open. Mom said "leave it" in her fast voice, the one that means she's not joking, so I left it. Barely.

Then everybody got quiet and pointed a big camera at me. I sat there. I didn't move. I could smell the court, kind of rubbery and warm, and somewhere close by, hot dogs. I thought about the hot dogs more than I want to admit.

They said my name was going to be on a poster. NEW YORK, it said, right under my face. I don't fully get what that means but Mom cried a little and hugged my neck so I think it's good.

Here's the thing nobody tells you about being on a poster — you have to sit still for a long time. Like, a really long time. My legs fell asleep twice. But then they let me have a tennis ball. A real one, from the court. It said something on it about New York and big dreams. I don't know about dreams but I know a good ball when I feel one.

They didn't let dogs run loose on the actual court, which I understand, I would've eaten a ball mid-match. But there was water set out for me by the bench and somebody's assistant kept sneaking me pieces of turkey, which is a very good kind of somebody to have around.

I still have the hat. I've been wearing it around the apartment and Mom keeps laughing every time she sees me. I don't know why it's funny. I look very serious in it.

Roxie hasn't seen the poster yet. I already know what she's going to say about the hat.