He nodded. “Of course. That’s part of the plan, baby.” He pulled her close for a long time, his head buried in her hair. “Now let’s get you home before your folks start wondering where you are.” He climbed out and helped her to the front seat. “Smoke, smoke smoke that cigarette,” Tex Williams chanted at them. Violet thought that sounded like a good idea, but hadn’t ever smoked around Johnny. He was too concerned with having good wind on the basketball court.

Johnny eased the car down the mountain as Violet smiled at a thousand diamonds glittering in her hometown below. Johnny said, “If they see the car, I gave you a ride home from the Wilsons’. That’s all.”

Violet glanced at her house, reading the lights and realizing her parents were still awake.

“I’m not an idiot, Johnny. Except where you’re concerned.” Violet regarded her clasped hands and suddenly felt like a tearful little girl. “I love you.”

“I love you, Future Mrs. Perkins.” He jumped out and swept her door open, then kissed her for only a second. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

She nodded. “Sunday. Good night.” Violet realized she had no idea of the time. Johnny’s tail lights disappeared as she opened the front door. Her mother sat on the sofa, knitting.

“How was babysitting?” she asked.

“Wonderful, Mama, wonderful.” Violet noticed Mama’s odd smile.

“Was he there to help you?”

“Oh, Mama, he picked me up as I was walking home.” The family’s golden retriever, Blondie, lifted her head and ambled over to sniff Violet.

“I see. Well, I’m going to bed, and you should, too. Good night.”

“Good night, Mama.”

Violet closed her bedroom door, removed her clothes and studied herself in the mirror. Same small breasts. Same everything. Nothing looked different or changed on the outside, though she thought her face looked more mature. She pulled on her white chenille robe and went down the hall to take a long bath.

She returned smelling of White Shoulders and shampoo. Blondie was asleep at the foot of her bed as usual. Violet patted her gently and whispered, “Tonight I am a woman, Blondie.” The dog snorted and rolled over.

Violet took out her diary and wrote, “Finally.” She placed it back beneath her underwear and turned out the light, hoping to dream of Johnny.

Early Saturday morning her mother woke her to help Corinna with housework. Corinna was a short, sturdy woman who never seemed to tire of washing and ironing the Glenns’ clothes or scrubbing their floors. Her mahogany face was broad and perpetually smiling. Violet loved her nearly as much as Mama. They hummed spirituals as they worked, exchanging only a few words. When Corinna sat down with her afternoon coffee, Violet joined her.

“You drinkin’ coffee, baby girl? You feelin’ all growed up?”

“Actually, Corinna, I am.”