Ellen did not say another word, until we reached my back porch. “Do you want to come over and play?”

Before I could answer, Joey came running out the screen door, just like I knew he would. “No, Cissy, you promised to play Cheetah and Jane.”

Ellen giggled covering her mouth. “Did he say Cheetah and Jane? What kind of game is that?”

I did not like anyone laughing at Joey. I glared at her. I dug my nails into my palms.

“I can’t. I have to watch him.”

“He can come, too,” said Ellen.

I knew Joey would say ‘yes,’ so I glared at him. He looked at me and swallowed. “I’ll ask Daddy if it’s okay.”

Joey went back inside the house pretending to ask Father. Waiting a minute or two, he came back. “Daddy says we can’t.”

Ellen believed him and walked away. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I said.

When Ellen became a blur in the distance, I walked over and picked up the metal bucket off the porch. Joey went with me. We used our bare hands to fill the bucket half-way with tan sand from the road.

We would make mud pies mixing water with sand. We used mulberry leaves, from one of the two trees near our back porch, as plates. I pretended to be Jane, the wife of Tarzan, while Joey would act like a chimpanzee.

On the way back, we both carried the bucket by the handle.

“Ouch!” screamed Joey. “I’ve got a sandspur.”

I set the bucket down. “Why didn’t you put your shoes on?”

“I forgot to.” He cried.

I was not strong enough to carry him. But, when I saw his tear-streaked face, something snapped inside me. As if in a trance, I picked him up in my arms and carried him to the porch. He was as light as a feather.

Joey sat looking at his foot. I noticed the sandspur was stuck to a soft spot. When pulled, it would feel like a sharp needle.

Plenty of these round balls with thorns grew on the tall weeds. Father needed to mow the grass. But Father was not able to. Besides, we needed gas in the lawnmower. Mother had said if it did not get mowed soon, Joey and I would cut the grass using scissors. I was not looking forward to that.

Using an ice cube to remove the sandspur from Joey’s foot, I continue to rub the tender skin, until it felt chilled. Using a face cloth, I yanked out the sandspur like a loose tooth. Joey ran inside the house, put on his shoes and came back.

Time to make mud pies! I turned on the faucet aiming the hose into the bucket. With his hands in the bucket, Joey let me know when to stop.

M-m-m, we pretended to make chocolate moon pies. We left our pies on one of the steps, to play our game. When it was time for supper, the mud had changed back into sand, ‘just like a magic trick.’ Well, Joey and I could use a little magic in our lives. Tonight, it was mustard greens. The smell made me want to gag.

The story continues next week with Thirsty.

Check out Saturna Brown’s website: http://alieninthekitchen.spaces.live.com

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