Lee

I was sitting on the back step, whittling on my R15, when Mom said through the screen door, “A penny for your thoughts.” Mom had this weird thing about wanting to know EVERYTHING. I didn’t say anything, just kept whittling. Couldn’t she tell I was working? Working on the very last piece of my rocket, the key piece no less. Once I finished the R15 toggle switch, I’d be ready to blast off. “Aah, come on,” she said, “I’ll give you two pennies.” She was making me nervous. She came down the step and sat down beside me. She put her arm around me and said, “Don’t you want to tell Mama what that sweet little head of yours is thinking?” I had to stop whittling or I might make a wrong slice. I wriggled away from her and looked at the ground. “Come on,” she said again, “tell me.” It was the last straw. “I’m building a rocket,” I said through my teeth, “so I can fly to Mars where nobody has a brain that someone tries to get inside of.” She looked at me for a long time, then she went in the house and came back and handed me a nickel.