The Girl Who Fell from the Sky

by Heidi W. Durrow

It’s easy to smile just to make other people feel better. But when a person fakes happy, it has edges. Regular people may not see, but the people who count, they can see edges and lines where your smile ends and the real you, the sadness (me) or the anger (Grandma), begins.

Aunt Loretta understands better than Grandma that reading a big book is more classy than wearing fake pearls watching TV.

“But my dad was also the smartest,” I say without a question mark, because this is how I remember him. “He sure couldn’t spell, but that’s supposed to be a sign of genius. Double consonants. Those always got him. He’d make them double when they shouldn’t be and vice versa.”