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shrugged. “Mom threw Dad out of the house a while ago, so he’s out of the picture,” I answered. I took another puff. “And Mom’s usually asleep when I leave for school in the morning, and she doesn’t get home from work until late.”
    “You’re on your own a lot, then,” Reena said. “That’s pretty grown up for a kindergartner.”
    “I’m not in kindergarten! I’m in sixth grade!” I yelled.
    “Simmer down,” Reena said. Then she laughed. “You need to chill.”
    I must have been chill to spill my guts to them like that. Maybe the cigarettes were working? Not! I blurted out everything because I was sick of Reena’s mouth and I was trying to impress them.
    “What grade are you guys in?” I asked.
    “Tenth,” Lisa said, “except Brandon. He’s a junior. But don’t start worrying about us. Tell us what happened today.”
    I told my story. They sat and listened and didn’t say anything. For once, Reena didn’t open her smart mouth. Not until I was done, at least.
    “That’s the most messed-up story I’ve ever heard,” Reena said.
    “Sad,” Lisa said softly, shaking her head.
    “C’mon, let’s blow this joint,” Brandon said. I didn’t even know he was there. He must have just showed up.
    Lisa got to her feet in a flash and took Brandon’s arm. “Bye, Lexie.”
    “See ya, Little Brat,” Reena said.
    I left right after them. Brandon gave me a thumbs-up as they pulled away in his black car. I watched them leave. His tires spit gravel everywhere when he stomped on the gas and did a nasty fishtail out of the driveway onto Old Woods Road. The car wasn’t anything special, but it got them where they were going, and it definitely gave Brandon a power trip.

R escuing a baby. Who’s ever heard of that? Maybe of rescuing an animal, but not a baby. There was a time this summer when Charlie and I had to rescue one of our calves. It was a hot, sunny day. We were on our way to the barn to get ready for the evening milking when we heard it, just like Jeffrey said he heard the crying—we heard the bleating. The calf’s cries for help came from the pasture. Charlie and I looked and saw the vultures circling out in the distance. They were closing in. We ran across the fields (the same fields some stranger had walked over). When we came over the knoll, we found our newest calf stuck in a mudhole. He must have been trying to cool off or get a drink. Now he couldn’t get out, and the more he fought, the deeper he sank. He was chest deep, and completely exhausted.
    “We need the truck,” Charlie said. “You stay here while Igo get it; otherwise those vultures will have his eyes pecked out before I get back.”
    I tried to comfort the calf while Charlie was away, same as Jeffrey had tried to soothe the baby. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t feel like it was working, but it was all I could do. When Charlie came back, he tied some rope to the rear of his truck. Then he laid some boards across the mud so he could walk out to the calf. He tied the other end of the rope around the little guy’s body. The boards also gave the calf something solid to walk on. Then Charlie told me to get in the truck and ease it forward. One of the things you get to do on farms is drive before you get a license. I had driven around the lots before, but I was nervous behind the wheel this time. I let off the pedal gently and cringed when I heard the calf bellowing behind me. But Charlie kept barking words of encouragement, so I inched forward little by little, and eventually we freed him. Back at the barn, we cleaned the calf and got him hydrated, just like the paramedics did with that baby.
    We saved him. I can remember how I felt that afternoon—scared, nervous, worried, relieved. That calf, Rupert we named him, is my favorite. He made it. I hope that baby makes it. I can only imagine how Jeffrey must feel.
    I told Grandma about the baby when I got home. I ended up telling everyone at dinner, but Grandma was the first