They were poor. Deep-fried poor. So destitute, they didn't have running water. And according to my sources, they cooked meals over an oil drum. The kids had hardly any meat on their bones.
They say the pastor visited their house with money. The father refused the money, claiming things were looking up. But this was a Depression. There was no up.
The pastor left a check anyway. And I understand he cashed it before lunchtime.
The first thing school kids noticed were her new shoes. Red leather ones, she loved red. I don't know what it is about shoes and poverty. They're the first things to go when
times get rough; first things you buy when you can.
The oldest girl walked with a bounce in her step, down the school hallways. She was a nice-looking girl, who rarely spoke. Nobody paid her any mind. Too bad. She had an angel-face. I suppose ratty clothes are hard for junior-high brats to look past.
It was during field class—when kids changed into white T-shirts and white shorts and exercised outside. She left her new bright-colored shoes in her locker.
When class was over, her shoes were gone.
They say she cried…