The Woods at Barlow Bend by Jodie Cain Smith

felt like it was 100 degrees up there.
    Billy and Albert’s room was identical to ours, only with one more body to contend with. Luckily, I don’t think they noticed or cared. As soon as they were allowed, the boys ran off behind the house to explore the farm. We didn’t see them again that day until it was time to eat supper.
    Aunt Mittie and Uncle Melvin shared the larger room across the hall. According to Mariah, we were not allowed to go in there under any circumstances.
    “Momma and Daddy’s room is strictly off limits,” warne d Mariah when she noticed me peeking inside the room through the open door. Wallpaper covered the walls and surrounded the perfectly made bed.in a sea of pink and yellow flowers. “Want some lemonade? I just made some,” Mariah said as she pulled the door to Aunt Mittie and Uncle Melvin’s bedroom closed.
    The rest of the house was a simple foursquare design with a tiny kitchen and attached dining room in the back of the house. A foyer and small parlor greeted visitors in front. A small, primitive-looking bathroom with a shower was set off the kitchen next to the pantry. I reminded myself that things could be worse: The bathroom could have been outside.
    During supper that night , Mittie explained our chores and her expectations, or “House Rules” as she put it. Schoolwork must be completed precisely and energetically. She cautioned Meg, Billy, and Albert that she would give the school her blessing to use the rod if necessary, but warned the three of them that they better not need it or they would receive double in her house. Before school each morning and after school each afternoon, the boys would help Melvin with farm work; even little Albert would be expected to do his share. Meg was given a list of household chores, which she and Mariah were instructed to complete each afternoon. The list included sweeping the house and porch, dusting all the furniture and fixtures, mopping the floors every other day, cleaning the bathroom, and helping Aunt Mittie and me fix supper. I wanted to chime in that I was used to feeding a crowd and, therefore, would not need their help. Four people would never fit in that tiny kitchen.
    “And, Hattie,” Aunt Mittie said, “you’ll help me with the laundry and cooking until you start Thorsby in a few weeks.”
    “Until I start what?” I asked.
    “Well, a young lady should have a proper education. I’ll send word tomorrow to the headmistress and request that you be admitted as soon as possible. I’ll explain your situation. I’m sure she will understand the need for discretion. If the Good Lord allows it, the school will show us a little sympathy and allow you to start the term late.”
    “Ma’am, what is Thorsby?” I asked.
    “Oh, Hattie dear, Thorsby Institute is one of the best high schools in the state. It’s up in Thorsby, in Chilton County. I think a secretarial curriculum will be best for you, as well as the social graces. You’ll live there, of course, but I hear they have a fine boarding house on the grounds.” Mittie misinterpreted the shocked look on my face for opposition rather than elation.
    She continued without letting me get a word in, “Hattie, I’ll hav e no arguments. You need this.”
    I would have never dreamed of arguing with such a wonderful and completely unexpected privilege!
    For the first time in months, I was excited, truly excited. School would be a real adventure. I had read about boarding schools and fantasized about being sent to one. I thought my education was done and that I would spend the rest of my life in a kitchen or dining room somewhere feeding the hungry masses. Secretarial classes meant I could work in an office building, maybe in Mobile or Birmingham, far away from the dusty dirt roads of the farms and good ol’ boys of Alabama. I would rent a room in a ladies’ boarding house and eat in cafes rather than serve in one. Now, I got to go to the Thorsby Institute. The name sounded so