Meggie awoke to the unmistakable sound of a hammer securing a canopy spike. That's right, Father was throwing

a keg.  She heard a car door slam, then the roar of one - no two - motorcycles.  "Great!" She spoke to the book - she'd borrowed from the school library - which lay on the neat and clean surface of her very nicked and dented - and a bit wobbly - nightstand.  She looked to the floor; one of the three quarters, she'd taped together, and has placed under the one leg, had escaped its cellophane boundary.  She'd have little time for getting into the story, which she had started last night, until her dtooping eyelids said, enough!  It was one of those dystopian novels, where a girl, a year or so younger than she, is camping with her girl scout troop, when all the power goes out.  Camping with girls, her own age... another activity, for other kids.  Not for Meggie.

She pulled back the sheet, got out of bed, pulled off her nightgown and headed to the shower.  On the way into the bathroom, she caught a whiff of roasting pork - which had been started, hours earlier.  It was already past nine...why'd she sleep so late?  She'd be borderline behind the 8-ball; kitchen was probably, already, getting into a state of disarray.  And the day was young.  

Atleast her and Fathers laundry was caught up; the water heater...eh, not the best.  From outside, came - through several gaps in the windows - the thudish tinkling of ice being poured into a blue heavy plastic drum that was cut in half.  Did anyone bother to hose down and wipe out the bottom?  Probably not.

Meggie wanted to get herself a decent job, and get away from all this...noise.  Yeah, and good luck with that - even one room apartments were expensive, and alot of people didn't want to hire young women.  Wasn't like earlier in the century, where - if women didn't want any surprises, they took a pill.  Or, they got an abortion.  Yuk, Meggie couldn't, nor even wanted to, imagine, being in a situation, where you saw no way out, other than getting yer kid erased.  One of the older "aux" women, had, supposedly, had one of those.  If so, maybe that was why she sorta, at times, had that blank expression upon her face - but who could just go on, and not think, from time to time, about how old the kid would be, if only...

Coming down the steps, she heard the clatter of bowls and serving utensils; a familiar sound of a that certain drawer being opened - it didn't slide quite right, whadda pain.  "We got this." Jenny's voice called to the staircase, a flash of her white armband, with"WIFE" in bold black font, had, for some reason - which Meggie couldn't quite figure out, had startled her.  "G'on, 'n do what you were doing"

"Thanks!" Meggie turned around and went back upstairs.   

About a fifth of the ways into the story, were these corporate creeps, who for years, had been hoarding stuff, had some goons come out to some old guy's farm, because the old guy wouldn't bend over.  Anyway, one of those mean ars'd REPROBATES!!! beat the old to death, with a baseball bat.  Hope they get there's, but Meggie didn't want to spoil the story for herself.  

She turned the page.  It read "Chapter Five."  Below, was written a verse or two, from the "KJV."  While Meggie had a King James, given to her, from an old lady, named Gwinnie - who lived not far - she didn't know too much about religious stuff.  But, something, she couldn't explain, told her, that if she was to read a Bible, it would be the King James - the one that - a century ago, was about the only protestant bible around, that was written in english.  Meggie had no idea what kind of bibles spanish and nigerian people read.

She placed a bookmark between the page, and shut the book.  She had to pee.