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"What kind of a question to ask is that, Gabriel?" she said, pulling her shoulders up. She held a small smile, however.

"I just wondered if that was what was supposed to be."

"Kissing and things is supposed to be, if that's what you mean, but you got to remember what I told you my grandmere told me: 'Sex, Catherine,' she used to say, 'is just Nature's little trick to bring the two people right for each other together.' "

"What if people who aren't right for each other have sex?" I pursued, speaking softly, afraid that if I spoke too loudly or too fast, the magic moment during which Mama would tell me intimate things would burst and be gone.

"Well then, it's just sex. It might make them feel good for the moment, but afterward," she said with a scowl, "they'll feel they lost a little of something precious, something of themselves. That's what I believe. I suppose," she added, raising her right eyebrow, "your girlfriends would laugh at that, n'estce pas?"

"I don't know, Mama. I don't care what they think."

She stared at me a moment. "You want to tell me something, Gabriel, something gnawing at your insides?"

The words were on my tongue, but I swallowed them back.

"No, Mama. I just wondered, that'

s all."

She nodded. "Just natural. Trust your instincts," she said. "You got good ones. Well, good night, Miss Graduate," she said, and leaned over to kiss my cheek. I held on to her a bit longer than I should have, and Mama's eyebrows went up again, her eyes sharp and small.

"I'm always willing to listen and help you, honey. Don't ever forget that," she said.

"I know, Mama. Good night."

"Good night," she said, and got up even though I sensed she wanted to remain there until I told her what was behind my dark eyes.

I thought about Mama's words and wondered what part of myself I had left in the swamp. My worrying caused something hard and heavy to grow in my chest, making it ache. I put my palms together under my chin, closed my eyes, and prayed.

"Please, dear God," I muttered, "forgive me if I did anything to cause this evil thing to happen to me."

I tried to throw off the dreary feelings. Fatigue closed my eyes, but sleep was driven back by my tossing and turning. Anticipating the excitement of tomorrow, worrying about what had happened, worrying about Daddy and about Mama, kept me wide-awake until the wee hours of the morning. The sun was actually turning the inky sky into a shade of red slate when I finally drifted into a deep repose. I woke to Mama's shaking the bed.

"Gabriel, you can't oversleep this morning!" she said, laughing.

"Oh. Oh, what time is it?" I looked at the clock and leaped out of bed.

We were getting our final report cards, turning in our books, saying our good-byes today, the last day of school.

"Go wash the sleep out of that face in the rain barrel," Mama ordered. "I'll have some breakfast for you."

"Did Daddy come home?" I asked.

"No. You would have smelled him if he had," she offered, and went down to make breakfast.

I washed my face in the rainwater, brushed my hair, and put on my clothes. Mama was mumbling about all the things she was still going to do in preparation for my graduation party. Every once in a while she would break to complain about Daddy.

"He better be back here today and make himself presentable for the ceremony," she warned.

"He will, Mama. I'm sure."

"You have faith in everyone and everything," Mama said. "You'd even give a snapping turtle a second chance."

I couldn't help it. Today, of all days, I wanted to think only good and happy thoughts.

There was a storm of excitement at school: torrents of laughter and giggling, smiles raining down over us, our hearts thumping like thunder. The classrooms only calmed down when Mr. Pitot visited them. Everyone sat with his or her hands folded, backs straight as we were taught, eyes forward. Some chairs squeaked.

Mr. Pitot congratulated us on a fine year, complimented the students who maintained high grades and who never misbehaved. He warned us about our behavior at the ceremonies.