"Being as young as I was, that velvet scarf was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and mother wore it with such a pride that..." Jenny trailed off, leaving one word in the air like a prize. The other kids were silent. I gulped, wishing with all my heart that this girls mother would suddenly appear. Everyone, except me, expected Jenny to cry. Jenny was too strong, to prideful, too grown up too cry. My Ma called this foolish, "a girl her age needs a good crying!" My mother said, starting her own batch of tears. My Ma was like a fountain, always spouting out water. I secretly agreed with my Ma, Jenny needed to cry. Don't you wanna mourn your ma? I thought. The sun beat down on the parched grass that day, and with everyone's step there was a little puff of dust underneath their soles. The day was as dry as Jenny's face. Once my uncle told me that every time dust blew in the wind it whispered "no water here" as it floated away searching, searching for water. No tears here... I thought, imagining Jenny's smile floating away in the wind.