"Young ladies, I want you to know I'm ashamed of you both. Cheating on a test... My Word!"

Pat stood right there in front of me and said, "I can't help it if she copied my paper! I got all the answers right, too!"

"Yes you did, Pat. You could have had an A+ instead of an F, but you did let her copy your answers. There is no way she could have seen your paper clear enough unless you pushed it to one side of your desk, and scrunched yourself over to the other side."

"She could have peeked over my shoulder!"

"Pat, you are at least a head taller than she is, and I hate to mention it, but you weigh at least twice what she does. There's no way she could look over or around you, unless you leaned over so's she could."

"Then how do you know it was MY paper she copied?"

"Because you are the only one in the class who had a perfect paper and her answers follow yours exactly, except for one small error. She must have missed the first one, because all her answers are correct... for the problem following it."

Until the end of term, Pat and I had to spend the morning recess in the classroom, where Pat tutored me in division.

Walking home from school one day, I was jolted out of my reverie, when a whole flock of brightly colored parakeets swooped down in front of me; pale blue, yellow, bright green... they swirled over my head and up to settle in the branches of a tree.

Parakeets weren't native to Texas and I stood there wondering if I was dreaming, when a young boy I recognized from my class, said, "Pretty, aren't they? My dad says someone's pets must have gotten loose and started breeding. They come back every year about this time, when it starts getting hot."

I had to force my eyes to stay on the colorful birds, cause, up close, I found the boy to be much better looking, and more interesting, than any old birds. My first crush, if you didn't count Norval Wall.

"My name's Betty," I told him.

"I know. Teacher introduced you, remember? Mine's John. I guess you wouldn't remember all our names, having them come at you all at once like that, but we only had to remember one."

He made me smile. I wasn't used to boys my age sounding so grownup. I told him so.

"Well, like you, I only have one parent at home, my dad. Person has to grow up faster than the other kids, when they have to help run the house."

"Your parents divorced, too?"

"Nah. My Mom died two years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That must be terrible."

"Yeah. Hurt like the dickens. I was still just a baby, so I didn't understand it real well. Makes it hard on my dad, though. I can see in his eyes that he still misses her."

"I bet you miss her, too."

"I do. I do miss her. Just not every hour of the day, the way my dad does. Comes from being a kid, I guess. Kids don't remember the way adults do. You missing your dad?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes, though, I get mad at him for making Mama leave."

"What'd he do? He mean to ya'll?"

"Oh, no! Daddy didn't even spank us much. When he did, he'd go off and cry. We could tell, because he'd come back in the house with his eyes all red and puffy."

"He yell at your mama?"

"No. They usually talked quiet. I only remember two or three fights where they sounded mad, but, Mama was just as loud as he was."

"Then, why'd they get a divorce?"

"I don't know. Daddy didn't want it. He said so. Said Mama didn't want to be married anymore."

"Then, I guess that's it."

"What's it?"

"The reason, silly. Your mama didn't want to be married."

"But, that's stupid. Why wouldn't she want to be married? She had a husband and us kids. That's what all women want."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do. Don't you want to have a family when you grow up?"

"Sure I do."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

We both started laughing. Don't ask me what we found so funny. Kids just do that, get in fits of laughter. When we could talk again, John asked, "Wanna come up for some Kool-aid?"

"Up?"

"Yeah, this is where I live," he pointed towards the garage beside the house we stood in front of, "...up there, over the garage."

Remembering the lonely apartment awaiting me, I nodded, "Yes. We could do our homework, too. Your dad still at work?"

"Yeah. He doesn't get home till dark."

"My mama neither. I don't like coming home to an empty house."

I think John and I would have been best friends, if school hadn't let out for summer, and me shipped off the Grandma's farm until time for Daddy to come pick me up for a visit... 'his time with me.'

That's what happens when families get split up. The kids spend part of the year with their Mama, and part with the Daddy.

Grandma and Grandpa lived out in the country. Closer to Dimmitt than to Hereford, the next town over. No matter how hot it might be outside, Grandma's house was always a haven of cool, the sweet clean air filled with the hum of fans going at all the windows on the shaded side of the house. You could count the hours passing by Grandma moving the fans west to east as the sun made it's east to west round in the sky.

I loved being back in the country. The barnyard scents and sounds comforted me. I had chores to do, too. Having to work didn't upset me. It sorta gave order to the day... made me proud when I finished one.

Once a week, we went to town.

Laughter... well, more like yelps of fun... assailed my ears the first trip we made.

This was right about the time the smell of chlorine hit me, smack dab in the center of childhood's yearning to be part of the crowd. I hunkered down in the front seat of Grandma's old Packard sedan. Didn’t want anyone to catch me as I studied them. My eyes barely level with the bottom of the window, I peered through the gap in the rhododendron hedge that surrounded the public pool. Watched the town kids at play.

My eyes stayed glued to the scene until grandma ground the gears into first and with several jerky false starts, pulled out onto the main road from the 'farm to market' we took to town.

The pool was on the corner, at the edge of Dimmitt. And, with a big sigh, I turned my attention to the other wonders town can bring to a kid raised in the country. Street lights lined up in imitation of the elms that lined the drive to the 'Old Wall place.'

Grain elevators that towered high above us, became skyscrapers like in the _Superman_ movies I'd seen at the Saturday Matinees. The tallest buildings I could imagine.

We were in town to buy the week's groceries and sell grandma's eggs. Now, grandma's eggs were sacrosanct. No one touched her eggs. The income from their sale constituted her entire allowance.

In all my nine years I'd never heard her speak more than a couple of sentences at a time. I don't think she believed in touching either, cause I can't remember a time when she hugged me or, heaven forbid, kissed me. She was the type to give a kid a gentle pinch on the cheek. A small light behind her eyes, the only clue she was glad to see someone. Still, I recall her smelling of Talcum powder -- Lily of the Valley, maybe. So, she must have let me sit by her at times. I just don't remember.

Grandma followed Grandpa up to the high plains, the Caprock area, the year before Mama left Daddy. They'd been back to visit a couple of times. It wasn't like we were strangers. I'd known her my whole life. But, Grandma wasn't a talker.

We didn't talk in the car, either. Grandma was too busy steering. Her foot stomped the brake every few feet. Afraid, I guess, the car would get away from her if she didn't keep reminding it who was boss. She always drove straight to the grocery store, then the bank. Her moving hadn't changed her routine at all.

Only staples were purchased in town, things like flour, cornmeal, sugar and coffee. She raised the food we ate. Anything else she needed, she ordered straight from the Sears Roebuck catalog or the J.C. Penny one. All was paid for with grandpa's money.

She usually had four or five dozen eggs to sell at the grocery store. I have no idea how much they paid her for them, but she acted like it was a fortune. Each week she deposited her hoard and toted up the balance in her personal checkbook. Everyone knew never to ask for a penny of it. Her egg money was sacred -- her identity -- her independence.

When we reached the store it was at least 112 degrees in the shade. My long dishwater blond hair, darkened with sweat, plastered to my neck. Prickly heat stung the flesh banded by the waistband of my shorts and up under my arms. Yes, Grandma let me wear shorts, made from cutoffs of some old jeans of Ruthies found in the rag bin. "Bunch of foolishness, touting you up in ruffles and lace in this heat!"

Moisture dripped from the end of my nose and burned the tender corners of my eyes. You would think with all the moisture on my body, the air I breathed would be humid. Instead, it was hot and dry. If I'd stuck my head inside an oven it couldn't have been more miserable.

I didn't complain, not because I was afraid of a scolding or a spanking, no, Grandma had never spanked or yelled at me in my life. I got the 'look.' That's all it took. One of Grandma's looks was enough for anybody. Her looks could shrivel you up inside, keep you from breathing or swallowing. Once I'd even wet my pants.

We bought our supplies, stopped at the bank, but instead of heading home, Grandma parked in front of the Mercantile Dry goods store. I perked up real quick.

Inside, she walked right up to one of the saleswomen and said, "Want us a bathin' suit. Nothin' fancy, mind you. Anything ya'll got that'll fit this young'un."

My jaw hit the dusty floor. Before I could get it up again, a red and white striped one piece dangled in front of me. Grandma paid over the fifty cents it cost and we left without even trying it on. I clutched it tight, afraid it might somehow disappear. My mind was blank in stunned disbelief. I didn't even wonder where I was supposed to wear it, only that I had it, the first swimsuit I'd ever owned.

We parked by the pool. Grandma handed me a dime and told me, "I'm not sittin' out here all day. Get in there an do ya'lls business, ya got an hour."

I had to hurry out of the car before she could see my chin trembling, before I made a fool of myself. I had no words to explain my feelings, but from that moment on, I knew, without a doubt, that my grandma loved me more than anything else in the world. She'd squandered her egg money on me!