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next morning, I jumped up, kicked on my slippers, and raced downstairs to see the class superlative photos in the paper.
    But when I opened the front door, it was to see a bird hanging in a noose from the front gutter and what looked like human feces on the newspaper that was open on the doormat. Someone had added horns and a beard to my photo in the class superlatives. And scrawled across the column in black marker was the familiar sentiment, “Pipe down, Piper!”
    I wasn’t all that surprised by the cruel prank, but I couldn’t keep my heart from speeding up, and before I knew it, the hot tears were coming.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Daddy said as he shuffled down the hallway, half asleep and perplexed by my weeping.
    When he got to the door, he saw what had happened and closed it shut before pulling me into his arm.
    â€œPut this out of your mind, gal. Just some jealous no-goods, is all.”
    Now, I should have known better than to poke a stick at Averill. Like the serpent on Gadsden’s flag, he would strike if provoked. But I wanted to be a rattlesnake too. After all, it became the very symbol that united the colonies around their greatest asset: freedom. Then I remembered an old superstition Juliabelle had told me about: a snake that has been cut into parts can come back to life if you join the sections together before sunset.
    And I couldn’t help the poem that was forming in my mind . . .
    Piece me
back
together
as the day
fades,
and I will
twist away
before the dust
settles.

3
    Off to College
    L et’s take the scenic route, gals,” Daddy announced. His prosthetic hand swatted the carefully unfolded maps of North Carolina and Virginia out of Mama’s grasp.
    He was growing a rebellious streak as he entertained Uncle Tinka’s new business venture, and we were beginning to learn it was sometimes best not to cross him. But I’d been waiting my whole life to get to college, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning across my two siblings to thump Mama’s shoulder.
    â€œTake the scenic route, Zane?” she inquired before collecting her highlighted interstates from the floorboard. I knew she had mapped out our route several days ago in preparation for taking me the 325 miles into the mountains of Virginia. She had even marked the rest areas on the highway where we might want to grab a Co-Cola and stretch our legs.
    â€œWith three daughters, someone always needs to go,” she had said with a wink a few nights before while she ironed preprinted tags that read in a graceful cursive “This belongs to Adelaide Piper” into all of my underwear and T-shirts.
    Mama. She worked herself silly for us girls.
    â€œOh, just live a little, Greta,” Daddy said now with a boyish innocence as he squeezed her knee. “’Member that show we watched on PBS the other night? The one about the Blue Ridge Parkway? Heck, I think they said that it can take you all the way to Lynchburg. Now, don’t you want to show these girls the beauty of the mountains where their big sister will be living and learning?”
    â€œHumph,” Mama said. She patted her brow with a handkerchief before twisting the knob that controlled the air conditioner, turning it up one notch and then another. Her shoulders tightened at his insistence of our new route, but he had been on a “let’s do what I want for a change” kick since his secret meetings with Uncle Tinka, and I guessed she was deciding to choose her battles. The big one was coming, and she was stockpiling her strength for the day she’d say, “No way will I go along with this hoax of a new business, nor will I allow you to jeopardize the security of our three daughters.”
    And if I were a betting girl, I’d put my money on Mama.
    Dizzy and Lou were already arguing over their space in the back of the station wagon. Without looking back, Mama opened the glove compartment, pulled out the