If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it were hot enough for my eyes to drip right outta their sockets. Been a blazing summer. Even the beetles hardly landed, a-feared their little feet would sizzle. With dad out of a job, that didn’t sound too bad for a snack.

“You think beetles’ good eating?” I asked Chet, my cousin from Baton Rouge.

“Naw, that’s a bit far. We’re still in America, Liza.”

The heat was more persistent than our bellies. Grandad came by with dogs for lunch, so we’d be set until tomorrow. The washing machine went out again last weekend, so we’d been walking down to the creek to refresh ourselves when need be.

Chet and I had been thick as thieves all along, running from the neighbors’ “lost” dog, nipping crawdads. It’d been enough time since our last wash, but ma said she was getting a pool ready. Did we have a pool? I saw her fiddling around with the hose, grunting and huffing, what a gal. I’d count my lucky stars for a ma who’d take such care to break her back, but I think it best I help out instead.

“Where can I be?” I We didn’t think we’d be nestled in tight inside the washer.