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He laughed. "A postcard now and then is all we need, Melody. And don't forget to play that fiddle. I didn't spend all that time teaching you for nothing."

"I won't."

"Good," he said. He closed his eyes. "Good."

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt as if my lungs would burst, the ache was that deep. I turned and saw Mama Arlene standing in the bedroom doorway, her tears falling just as hard and fast. She held out her arms and we hugged. Then she followed me out.

Mommy and Archie had finished loading his Chevy. He slammed the trunk closed and got behind the wheel. Mommy came over to Mama Arlene.

"I didn't know you meant you would be leaving this soon, Haille."

"It's just worked out that way, Arlene. I guess Melody already asked you to look after our remaining things, if you can."

"I'll keep an eye on the place, sure."

"Once we're settled, I'll see about getting what else we want. Where's George?"

"He's lying down," she said.

They exchanged a knowing glance that made me weak in the knees.

"Well, I'll call and I'll drop you a line now and then," Mommy proinised.

My mind was racing. There was too much to think about. "Mama Arlene. I'm going to leave my school books on the kitchen table. I'll call my friend Alice and she'll come by to get them and my library books, okay?" I asked.

"Of course, dear."

"Here's the keys to the trailer." Mommy handed them to Mama Arlene. She took them reluctantly. Her gaze went to me and her lips trembled.

"I better go put the books on the table, Mommy," I said.

"Hurry. We want to be on the road. We've a lot of distance to cover," she said. "Go on. I'll wait here with Arlene."

I ran back to the trailer and entered. For a moment I just stood there gazing around. Yes, it was a tiny place to live and our furniture was very ordinary. Yes, the rugs were worn, the curtains thin, the wallpaper faded. The faucets dripped and the sinks were stained with rust at the drains. The heat never worked right and in summer, the place was an oven. I had wished and wished to have a real house instead, but this had been home to me, and now I felt as if I were deserting a poor old friend.

Daddy and I had eaten thousands of meals at that small dinette. I had curled up in his arms a thousand times on that worn sofa while we watched television. I blew out candles on many birthday cakes here. In that corner we had decorated our small Christmas tree. Although the pile of gifts under it was never impressive, it was always exciting for me.

Good-bye trailer home, I thought. Good-bye to the sound of the rain's drum beat on the roof while I slept or studied or ate my meals. Good-bye to every creak and groan in the wind; to the funny moaning sound in the plumbing that brought laughter to Daddy and me dozens of times.

And how do I say good-bye to my small room, my small private world? Once, this was my special place and now I was looking in at it for the final time.

I bit down on my lower lip and pressed my palm against my heart, holding in the ache, and then I scooped up my school books and the library books and put them on the kitchen table.

Archie Marlin honked the car's horn. I glanced at everything one last time, pressing it for

ever into my memory. Archie honked again.

"Good-bye," I whispered to the only home I had ever known. I rushed out the front door, afraid that if I paused or looked back, I would never be able to leave.

"What took you so long?" Mommy complained, her head out the window.

I got into the back seat. It was half covered with some of Mommy's clothes. I put my fiddle on the car floor. "Be careful of my things," she said.

"Here we go." Archie pulled out of our lot. I pressed my face to the window. Mama Arlene stood in her doorway, small and sad, her hand frozen in good-bye. The tears blurred my vision and some of them ran down the glass. I sat back to catch my breath as Archie spun around the entrance to Mineral Acres and shot onto the road.

"We're stopping at the cemetery, aren't we, Mommy?" I asked.

"What? What for?"