Anna on the Farm by Mary Downing Hahn, Diane de Groat

ONE
Where Are You Going This Summer?
    O NE SUMMER DAY, A NNA, B EATRICE, AND R OSA ARE sitting on Anna's front steps, fanning themselves with old newspapers. The narrow brick houses crowd together, trapping the heat. No breeze blows. Even the pigeons waddle slowly, making sad cooing sounds.
    Anna thinks Baltimore is the hottest city in the world. Just this morning Father said the sidewalk was hot enough to cook his breakfast. Anna wanted Mother to try frying eggs outside to keep the house cooler, but Mother told her that was a silly idea.
    Beatrice and Rosa are playing cat's cradle with a piece of string. As usual, Rosa is bossing Beatrice, telling her to hold her fingers still. Whenever the three girls are together, Rosa thinks of something only she and Beatrice can do. At least that's how it seems to Anna.
    Anna sighs loudly, hoping to get the other girls' attention, but they are more interested in their stupid piece of string than they are in Anna. She looks across the street, hoping to see her friend Charlie. His little sisters and brothers are chasing each other up and down the sidewalk, but Charlie isn't there. Most likely he's playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Anna wishes she were playing ball, too. Anything would be more fun than sitting here watching Rosa and Beatrice.
    Up the street Anna hears the melon man singsonging, "I got watermelons, watermelons, nice cold watermelons. Watermelons, watermelons."
    Soon he comes nearer, leading a brown-and-white pony. The pony pulls a small yellow wagon piled high with watermelons. The pony's head droops, his hooves clip-clop slowly over the paving stones. He's hot, too.
    The melon man passes Anna's house every day. Mother buys one watermelon a week, no more. The man tips his cap to the girls, but he does not stop. Mother bought her watermelon yesterday.
    Anna wishes the wagon would hit a bump and a watermelon would fall off and roll right to her feet. She can almost taste it—cold and wet and sweet and pink, with hard black seeds to spit when Mother isn't looking.
    The wagon rolls on down the hill toward North Avenue. No watermelons fall off. Anna sighs again. "It's so hot," she says loudly.
    Rosa pushes her blond curls back from her round pink face. "Guess what? I'm going to the ocean next week. It will be much cooler there."
    "I'm going to the mountains," Beatrice says quickly. "It will be even cooler there."
    Rosa gives Beatrice's skinny arm a little pinch, just hard enough to hurt. "We're going to stay in the Henlopen Hotel," she brags. "It's the most expensive hotel in Rehoboth Beach. In the daytime, we'll wade in the surf and build sand castles. At dinner, we'll dress up in our best clothes. In the evening, we'll walk on the boardwalk and eat candy apples and frozen custard and saltwater taffy."
    Anna's mouth waters. She's never eaten saltwater taffy at the ocean. In fact, she's never even been to the ocean. She imagines it's like the Chesapeake Bay, only bigger. She hopes the water is full of jellyfish so Rosa will get stung while she's splashing in the water. It would serve the stuck-up thing right.
    "We're going to Penmar on the train," Beatrice says quietly. "The air is very fresh in the mountains. Dr. Thompson says it will be good for my cough."
    Both girls look at Anna. Everybody goes on vacation in August. They're waiting for her to tell them where her family is going. Instead, Anna bends her head and picks at a scab on her knee. The truth is she's not going anywhere. Father says they can't afford a vacation, but Anna doesn't want to admit this to Rosa and Beatrice.
    "Well?" Rosa pokes her plump finger in Anna's ribs. "Where are
you
going?"
    "We haven't decided yet," Anna says. "Mother likes the mountains and Father likes the ocean." This isn't exactly a lie. What she's said about Mother's and Father's likes and dislikes is true.
    "Maybe you'll spend a week in the mountains
and
a week at the ocean," Beatrice says. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

    Rosa gets to her