THE KENTUCKY SUN was blazing hot. Eight-year-old Elizabeth huddled in a corner of the narrow porch, trying to tuck herself into the thin band of shade from the overhang. Her hair was heavy on her neck even though she had tied it back with a ribbon. The street was deserted; almost everyone was taking a Sunday-afternoon nap or had gone to the local pool. She wanted to go swimming too, but she knew better than to ask. Her mother and Matt had been drinking all day, and they'd begun to quarrel. She hated it when they fought, especially in summer, when the windows were open. All the kids would stop playing and listen. Today's fight had been really loud. Her mother had screamed bad words at Matt until he hit her again. Now they were both asleep, sprawled on the bed with no cover on them, the empty glasses on the floor beside them.

She wished her sister, Leila, didn't work every Saturday and Sunday. Before she took the Sunday job, Leila used to call it their day, and she'd taken Elizabeth around with her. Most of the nineteen-year-old girls like Leila were hanging around with boys, but Leila never did. She was going to go to New York to be an actress, not get stuck in Lumber Creek, Kentucky. "The trouble with these hick towns, Sparrow, is that everybody marries right out of high school and ends up with whiny little kids and Pablum all over their cheerleader sweaters. That won't be me." Elizabeth liked to hear Leila talk about how it would be when she was a star, but it was scary too. She couldn't imagine living in this house with Mama and Matt without Leila.

It was too hot to play. Quietly she stood up and smoothed her T-shirt under the waistband of her shorts. She was a thin child with long legs and a spray of freckles across her nose. Her eyes were wide-set and mature--"Queen Solemn Face" Leila called her. Leila was always making up names for people-- sometimes funny names; sometimes, if she didn't like the people, pretty mean ones.

If anything, the inside of the house was hotter than the porch. The glaring four-o'clock sun shone through the dingy windows, onto the couch with its sagging springs and the stuffing that was beginning to come out at the seams, and the linoleum floor, so old that you couldn't even tell what color it had been, cracked and buckled under the sink. They'd lived here for four years now. Elizabeth could vaguely remember the other house, in Milwaukee. It was a little bit bigger, with a real kitchen and two bathrooms and a big yard. Elizabeth was tempted to straighten up the living room, but she knew that as soon as Matt got up the room would be a mess again, with beer bottles and cigar ashes and his clothes dropped where he shed them. But maybe it would be worth a try.

Snores, unpleasant and gruff, came from behind the open door of Mama's bedroom. She peeked in. Mama and Matt must have made up their fight. They were all wrapped up in each other, his right leg thrown over her left, his face buried in her hair. She hoped they'd wake up before Leila got home. Leila hated to see them like that. "You must bring your friends to visit Mama and her fiancé," she'd whisper to Elizabeth in her actress voice. "Show off your elegant background."

Leila must be working overtime. The drive-in was near the beach, and sometimes on hot days a couple of the waitresses didn't show up. "I've got my period," they'd whine to the manager on the phone. "Real bad cramps." Leila had told her about that and explained what it meant. "You're only eight and that's young, but Mama never got around to telling me, and when it happened I could hardly walk home, my back hurt so much, and thought I was dying. I won't let that happen to you, and I don't want other kids hinting around like it's something crazy."

Elizabeth did the best she could to make the living room look better. She pulled down the shades three-quarters of the way, so that the sun didn't glare so much. She emptied the ashtrays and washed the tops of the tables and threw away the beer bottles that Matt and Mama had emptied before their fight. Then she went into her room. It was just big enough to hold a cot, a bureau and a chair with a broken cane seat. Leila had given her a white chenille bedspread for her birthday and bought a secondhand bookcase which she'd painted red and hung on the wall.

At least half the books in the bookcase were plays. Elizabeth selected one of her favorites, Our Town. Leila had played Emily last year in high school, and she'd rehearsed her part with Elizabeth so often that Elizabeth knew the part too. Sometimes in arithmetic class she'd read a favorite play in her mind. She liked it a lot more than chanting times tables.

She must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes, Matt was bending over her. His breath smelled of tobacco and beer, and when he smiled he breathed heavier and that made it worse. Elizabeth pulled back, but there was no way to escape him. He patted her leg. "Must be a pretty dull book, Liz."

He knew that she liked to be called by her whole name.

"Is Mama awake? I can start to fix supper."

"Your mama is going to be sleeping for a while. Why don't I just have me a little lie-down and maybe you and I can read together?" In an instant, Elizabeth was pushed against the wall and Matt was taking up all the room on the cot. She began to squirm. "I guess I'll get up and start to make hamburgers," she said, trying not to sound scared.

His grip was tight on her arms. "Give Daddy a nice big squeeze first, honey."

"You're not my daddy." Suddenly she felt trapped. She wanted to call Mama, to try to wake her up, but now Matt was kissing her.

"You're a pretty little girl," he said. "You're going to be a real beauty when you grow up." His hand was moving up her leg now.

"I don't like that," she said.

"Like what, baby?"

And then over Matt's shoulder she could see Leila in the doorway. Her green eyes were dark with anger. In a second, she was across the room, pulling Matt's hair so hard his head yanked back, shouting words at him that Elizabeth didn't understand. And then she screamed, "Bad enough what those other bastards did to me, but I'll kill you before you start on her!"

Matt's feet hit the floor with a thud. He pulled to one side, trying to get away from Leila. But she kept twisting his long hair, so that every move he made hurt. He began to yell back at Leila and try to hit her.

Mama must have heard the noise, because her snoring stopped. She came into the room, a sheet wrapped around her, her eyes circled and bleary, her pretty red hair disheveled. "What's going on here?" she mumbled in a sleepy, angry voice, and Elizabeth saw the bruise on her forehead.

"You better tell this crazy kid of yours that when I'm just being nice and reading to her sister, she better not act like there's something wrong with it." Matt sounded mad, but Elizabeth could tell he was scared.

"And you'd better tell this filthy child molester to get out of here or I'll call the police." With a final tug, Leila released Matt's hair, stepped around him and sat on the cot with Elizabeth, hugging her tight.

Mama started to yell at Matt; then Leila started to yell at Mama, and in the end, Mama and Matt went to their room and kept on fighting; then there were long silences. When they came out of the room, they were dressed and said everything was a misunderstanding and as long as the girls were together, they'd just go out for a while.

After they left, Leila said, "Want to open a can of soup and maybe fix us a hamburger? I've got to do some thinking." Obediently Elizabeth went into the kitchen and prepared the meal. They ate in silence, and Elizabeth realized how glad she was that Mama and Matt were gone. When they were home, they were either drinking and kissing or fighting and kissing. Either way it was awful.

Finally, Leila said, "She'll never change."

"Who?"

"Mama. She's a boozer, and if it isn't one guy it will be another, until she just runs out of all the men left alive. But I can't leave you with Matt."

Leave! Leila couldn't be leaving....

"So get packed," Leila said. "If that creep is starting to paw you, you're not safe here. We're going to take the late bus to New York." Then she reached over and tousled Elizabeth's hair. "God alone knows how I'll manage when we get there, Sparrow, but I promise I'll take care of you."

Later, Elizabeth was to remember that moment so clearly. Leila's eyes, emerald green again, the anger gone, but with a steely look in them; Leila's slim, taut body and catlike grace; Leila's brilliant red hair brightened even more by the light from the overhead fixture; Leila's rich, throaty voice saying, "Don't be scared, Sparrow. It's time to shake the dust of our old Kentucky home off our feet!"

Then with a defiant laugh, Leila began to sing, "Weep no more, my lady...."