A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton by Michael Phillips Page B

are even bigger than the others!”
    “How much are they worth, do you think?” I asked.
    “These all say ten dollars on them…. Show me one of the others.”
    I pulled one out of the pocket of my dress and handed it to Katie.
    “This says five dollars. So that’s five, ten, fifteen … plus these four … that’s fifty-five dollars.”
    Katie now dove into what remained in the chest and threw everything out till it was completely empty. Then she searched and shook every piece of clothing. But there were no more coins.
    “Fifty-five dollars is a fortune, Miss Katie,” I said when she was through. “You’re practically rich!”
    “But it’s not mine. These must belong to my uncle Ward.”
    “Didn’t you say he was dead?”
    “I don’t know. I think so.”
    “But even if he isn’t, he wouldn’t mind you using it. And he ain’t coming back anyway. Didn’t you say he hadn’t been here in years?”
    Katie nodded. “It would be nice to pay off the bill at Mrs. Hammond’s,” she said. “I don’t like her scowling at us.”
    “I think she’d scowl just the same,” I said. “But then you could buy other things you need too.”
    “I wonder if it’s enough to pay off my mama’s loan at the bank.”
    “How much is it?” I asked.
    “I don’t know. We’ll have to look at my mama’s papers tomorrow. But right now, let’s get some sleep.”
    “Where are you going to keep the gold coins, Miss Katie?”
    “I don’t know. Someplace safe.”
    “Well, you take the three little ones now too,” I said. “I had them all day, but now they’re making me nervous. They’re yours now.”
    Katie took them from me and held the seven coins in her hand a minute, just looking down at them.
    “Oh, Mayme, I’m so excited!” she said. “Just when another mouth comes along to feed, we find this. God really is taking care of us, isn’t He!”

A WKWARD D AYS
19

    K ATIE AND EMMA AND I WERE ALREADY UP AND working in the kitchen when we heard Aleta’s footsteps on the stairs. Katie set down the knife in her hand she’d been slicing bread with, wiped her hands, and went to meet her.
    She brought Aleta into the kitchen and asked her, “Would you like some breakfast?”
    “What are they doing here?” said Aleta, glancing first toward me, then with a frown toward Emma.
    “I told you before, they live here.”
    “They live in the same house with you?”
    “Yes. Mayme and Emma are my friends.”
    “They will never be my friends.”
    I turned away. I knew she was just a confused little girl who didn’t know better. But the words hurt. And I knew there was nothing I could do to help. If I’d have tried to be nice to her or go over and talk to her, to show her that I was a normal person just like her, it wouldn’t have done any good. If there was going to be a change in what she thought of my being black, it would have to come from inside her. Even Emma was uncharacteristically quiet. After getting used to Katie’s kindness, I think the words took her by surprise and shocked her into silence.
    Katie walked over and took William from Emma, cradled him gently in her arms, then returned to where Aleta stood.
    “And this is William, Aleta,” she said with a smile. “William is Emma’s son. Isn’t he a fine-looking little boy?”
    Aleta stared down at him in silence.
    “Would you like to hold him just for a second, Aleta?”
    “No,” she said.
    “All right, maybe later. Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?”
    Aleta nodded. Katie sat her down at the table, poured her a glass of milk, and began slicing some bread, talking gently and quietly to her, just like a grown-up would.
    Sometimes Katie amazed me, and now was one of those times!
    After a minute or two, I left the kitchen and went outside. I started walking away from the house and then heard Katie’s voice.
    “Mayme,” she said.
    I turned around. She was standing in the doorway, then took a few steps toward me.
    “Mayme … I’m