See You Next Sunday

It should have been easy, but that one pack of chewing gum bought at Red Owl on a summer's day changed everything. Ivy May Ames put the Black Jack on the counter, pushed a nickel beside it, and waited behind a woman with a generous backside for her turn. "So Marge," the woman said, lowering her voice, "I see Ruth Ames has her kids with today." "Yah . . . good kids . . . too bad that oldest one with the funny name . . . Birdie, I think it is . . . is so slow. He's the little one, kind of a runt. Always got a big grin on his face but . . ." Marge twirled her forefinger by her head and gave the cash register an extra chink. And then Ivy May heard the word moron for the first time.