Department of First Stories Billie Kay Fern It is so very hot in this room, even with the big ceiling fans creaking around, trying to move the sticky air. I sit snuggled close to my daddy, on a hard wooden bench, fidgeting with my petticoat. I don’t even know why we’re here. If they’d just ask me, I could tell them what happened. I guess they reckon a little girl wouldn’t know anything anyhow. Daddy lays his big hand over my hands to stop the fidgeting. His one hand covers both of mine. I’m sort of scrawny for my age.

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