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girls' room white with pink trim!"
    Finally, she spoke. "There's only space for two small beds and one small desk in their room. Where will we put Katie's desk when she starts school?"
    "Let me think about that," he said.
    "We'll have to put it in my sewing area."
    Nobody answered. I felt guilty because my future desk would ruin her sewing area. I didn't even want to go to school, anyway. I forgot to think nonsense words. That's why my mother was able to read my mind and know I felt guilty. She pulled me to her and hugged me. "It's not your fault!" she said, suddenly cheerful.
    A swing-set frame sat in the middle of our courtyard, but there were no swings. Some of the kids liked to climb on the frame. Everyone played outside all the time because there was nothing to do in our small apartments. When the fathers wanted to talk outside, they sat on the curb in front of Mr. Kanagawa's apartment. He was sort of their leader.
    His wife, Mrs. Kanagawa, didn't work, so when fall came, she took care of the preschoolers all day. I could have gone to kindergarten, but when I went for one week, I cried and screamed so much that my parents thought maybe I shouldn't start school until first grade. There were three of us preschoolers, but the other two were younger than me, so I played by myself. I could read and write a little bit, I could color or jump rope alone, but mostly I played with Bera-Bera. He chattered on and on, even when I was trying to take my nap.
    At 3:30 each afternoon, I would watch out the window until I saw Lynn walking down the street—there were no sidewalks in our small town. I would run outside to meet her. Mrs. Kanagawa said I was like Lynn's pet dog.
    Most days in southern Georgia were warm and humid. After school Lynn, some of the other kids from the residence, and I used to lie about and stare at the clouds. If it was cool enough, we would play dodgeball. At night before we went in for bed, the parents would sit on the stoop and we children would either play or lie on our backs and watch the Milky Way. Watching the sky was all Lynn's idea. Just as Mr. Kanagawa was the leader of the fathers, Lynn quickly became the leader of us kids. She was a big believer in watching the sky. She pointed out that if beings from outer space ever came, they would probably want to talk to us. So we should keep our eyes open.
    Some nights before bed Lynn and I would make our wishes. First we made selfish wishes, and then we finished with unselfish wishes. One night, though, Lynn said, "Let's just make selfish wishes tonight."
    That seemed bad, so I said, "Okay."
    "You start."
    "I wish for a bed with a canopy and a box of sixteen crayons instead of eight."
    "I wish that I'll go to college on a scholarship someday. I wish I'll be homecoming queen in high school. I wish we could afford a nice house."
    "I wish we had a better hot-water heater so the water wasn't so cold all the time."
    She didn't say anything. She probably felt bad, like me. I felt like maybe we should make some unselfish wishes.
    She said, "Maybe we can each make one unselfish wish."
    "I wish for a house for you and for Mom."
    "I wish you would be happy forever."
    That left our father. I didn't know what he wanted most. It seemed the only thing he wanted was to take care of us. Every time it was his birthday, we got him aftershave lotion that our mother paid for. He always seemed to like it.
    I said, "I wish Dad never loses his hair like Grandpa did before he died."
    The last thing before we went to bed, Lynn and I would talk about what we should spend our money on the next day. Every weekday our father gave us a nickel to get ourselves a treat. But that night Lynn said, "From now on we're going to save our nickels to help Mom and Dad buy our first house. That way, instead of just wishing for a house, we're helping to really get one."
    That was a hard thing to agree with, but I didn't argue because Lynn was boss. Usually when Lynn got home from school, we would go to