Borrowed Time

She borrowed the seam ripper from Mrs. Deaton and carefully picked out the offending stitches. It wasn't that hard if you didn't count the embarrassment over doing it wrong, not following the careful instructions given out by Carolyn, the high school student who came each Tuesday to help the girls with their projects. She tried to write it down, all those steps being too much for her head to hold at one time, but couldn't seem to write fast enough to get it all down on paper. So, later, it didn't make as much sense as it did when Mrs. Deaton said it.

And then, of course, there was the material she'd picked out for her project, a bright yellow that she thought would look good against the tan she'd have by the end of summer from hoeing cotton beside her step-mom. But no one thought to tell her about cheap yardage and how some would hold a good pressing and some would not, would instead crumple up like a piece of newspaper on a humid day.

There was no money to buy more material and even if there was, surely there was no time. And this was the project that would be graded and put on her final report card. Her step-mom might understand but her daddy was sure to be real unhappy, him not knowing, of course, that sewing just didn't come as easy to her as reading and numbers.