I lived in the State of Texas, where sudden storms often happened every year. Last Sunday, there was no dirt in the air, only bright spring sunshine and a clear blue sky. After lunch, Papa headed out to the field to check on the cattle while Mama started dinner. Everything seemed peaceful. Faye and I played happily in the yard. The heat had been building since dawn. Suddenly the temperature dropped--- it felt good.

Then Mama shouted from the house, “Iris, you and Faye get inside, read quick now!”

I looked to the west and saw a huge black cloud of dust, like thick smoke from a railway engine’s chimney. All the birds flew away. The stop lights nearby weren't working because of a power failure.

“Faye, go with Mama!” I shouted. “I’ll warn Papa.”

Faye ran toward the house. The storm hit so fast that I hardly saw her climb the steps. In a short time, the day turned into night. I screamed for Papa, hoping my voice would lead him back. But I couldn’t hear or see him at all.

Some poor house roofs were blown off, and small trees down. I thought a terrible storm was on the way and the scene was “the worst I've seen in several years.” The dirt and sand stung(刺痛) my face like a thousand bees. I needed to get to shelter. Covering my face with one hand, I made my way toward the car and opened the door. Dirt flew in with me as I pulled the door closed. Papa was still out somewhere! I needed to help him find the car.

I searched the dashboard (仪表板) and found the switch for the front lights. They made some rays, but would Papa see them in the thick darkness? I pushed the horn (喇叭) again and again, hoping Papa would hear it.

Suddenly, Papa’s face appeared at the window.

Papa shut off the car’s lights and I worried the dirt would bury us.

Marcus sat by his window, looking at the blinking lights on other buildings. He thought of Papa, who was visiting Marcus’ sick grandpa in Jamaica. “I’ll try to help Mama while you’re gone,” Marcus had promised his father.

His little brother, Peter, sat beside him and asked when they could get their Christmas tree so that he could decorate it with Mama’s Jamaican straw birds. Mama walked up and told them they couldn’t get a tree this year; she explained there were too many bills because of grandpa’s disease and that they couldn’t afford one.

Someone knocked on their apartment door suddenly, and Marcus hurried to the door, only to see it was his friend Jack. He let him in, and Jack look around, “No tree yet? I set an artificial tree a week ago. It’s up to the ceiling (天花板). Just two more days till Christmas! I guess you’re not getting a tree.” Marcus walked slowly to his room and shook his piggy bank (存钱罐). Seven dollars and some dimes (十分硬币) fell out - his trips from helping at the market. He thought he could earn enough in two days to buy a tree and surprise Mama and Peter.

The next day, he stayed busy pushing carts to help shoppers. By the time he left, six more dollars jingled in his pocket. “My lucky day,” he thought. Thirteen dollars should buy a small tree. He whistled all the way to the store. But even the smallest trees were $15 or more. “Tomorrow will be busy with shoppers,” he thought. He was determined to earn those extra dollars.

The telephone rang early the next morning. Mama came into his room and said, “I need to go out today, Marcus. I’ll need you to take care of Peter for a day.” Marcus anxiously said it would be the busiest day at Mr. Smith’s market and he had to be there. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing else we can do.” Mama gave Marcus a hug, promised to come early and headed for work.

“I’ll never get a tree now,” Marcus thought.

Marcus set their tree on the table.

Prissy Baker was in Oscar Miller’s store on New Year’s morning, buying matches when her uncle, Richard Baker, came in. He did not look at Prissy, nor did she wish him a happy New Year. She would not have dared. He was actually a big, strong-looking man an uncle to be proud of, Prissy thought, if only he were like what he used to be himself. He was the only uncle Prissy had, and when she was a little girl they had been great friends. She used to break into Uncle Richard’s house to play tricks on him, for the woodshed door was always unfastened. But that was before the quarrel.

Uncle Richard had not been speaking with Prissy or her father since the two brothers’ quarrel eight years ago. The fault had been mainly on Richard’s side, but he was unwilling to admit it.

Richard Baker informed Mr. Miller he was on his way to Navarre to deliver a load of pork. “New Year’s Day would be pretty much the same as any other day to you,” said Mr. Miller, for Richard Baker was a bachelor (单身汉).

“Well, I always like a good dinner on New Year’s Day,” said Richard Baker. “It’s about the only way I can celebrate. I got everything ready last night but I have to send the pork now. I won’t get back from Navarre before one o’clock, so I guess I’ll have to put up with a cold bite.”

After her uncle had driven away, Prissy walked thoughtfully home. She had planned to spend a nice, lazy holiday with the new book her father had given her at Christmas and a box of candy. She did not mean to cook a dinner, for her father had to meet a friend and would be gone the whole day. There was nobody else to cook dinner for. Prissy’s mother had died when Prissy was a baby. so Prissy became her father’s housekeeper.

But as she walked home, she could not help thinking about Uncle Richard. He would certainly have cold New Year, cold enough to freeze the whole coming year. She felt sorry for him, picturing him returning from Navarre, cold and hungry, to find a fireless house and an uncooked dinner.

Suddenly an idea came into Prissy’s head.

Prissy had just set the table when an angry voice cut through the peace.

Sometime during the seventh grade, two things happened to me. The first was that I got hooked on salami. I couldn’t get enough of the salty, spicy sausage. The other thing was that my mum and I weren’t getting along really well. We weren’t fighting really badly or anything. We also didn’t laugh together much anymore until that afternoon.

As far as the salami went, my mum wouldn’t buy any because she said it was too expensive and not that good for me. To prove my emerging independence, I decided to go ahead and eat what I wanted anyway. So one day I used my allowance to buy a full sausage of dry salami.

Now a problem had to be solved: Where would I put the salami? I didn’t want my mum to see it. So I hid it in the only place in my room that I knew was totally safe—under my bed. There was a special corner under the bed that my mum rarely had the ambition to clean. Under the bed went the salami, back in the corner—in the dark and the dust.

A couple of weeks later, I remembered the delicious treat that was waiting for me. I peered beneath the bed and saw—not the salami that I had hidden, but some strange, green and hairy object that didn’t look like anything I had ever seen before. The salami had grown about an inch of hair, and the hair was standing straight up, as if the salami had been surprised by the sudden appearance of my face next to its hiding place. Being the picky eater I was, I was not interested in consuming any of this object. The best thing I could think of to do was … absolutely nothing.

Some time later, my mum became obsessed (对……着迷的) with spring cleaning, which in her case meant she would clean places that had never seen the light of day. Of course, that meant under my bed. I knew in my heart that she would soon find the object in its hiding place. She washed, scrubbed (擦洗), and dusted.

Then one afternoon my mum’s screams sharply came from my room.

Finally, the laughter I had been trying to hold back exploded from my mouth.