My rumbling belly did a pretty good job of pushing the day’s events to the back of my mind. It’s tough to think on an empty belly. Ben sizzled pork patties on the barbecue, and the smell made me crazy hungry. I guess it drove the hornets crazy, too, on account of how they grouped overhead. Ginger and I crunched on pork rinds until Mama handed each of us a wedge of watermelon instead. One of the hornets landed on Ginger’s watermelon right as she raised it to her mouth. “Watch out,” I said, and slapped at her hands. She squealed like a stuck pig and dropped her watermelon in the dirt. She stared down at it. “I almost got stung right in the mouth.” I pictured Ginger with her head puffed up like a balloon—a balloon with a French braid. “Probably would’ve swelled your tongue so bad you couldn’t talk. That would’ve been something.” Ginger didn’t act bothered by the teasing. She was busy keeping count of the hornets on her melon. “Three of them now.” “The meat’s about done,”
