I woke up to the same dry hotness that had been dragging for weeks now. I tried to hide my head under my pillow, but the smothering heat forced me to surface for air after just a few moments. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had always loved my room. I loved the thatched roof that came down so low that as I grew, I could bump my head on it just by standing up, I loved the smell of hay that wafted up through the open window, I loved the smallness of it; it was cramped to most people, but cozy to me and yes, even though I complained to the rest of my family, I even liked the early morning sun in my eyes.

That same sun was plaguing me now as I struggled to regain my sleep. I sighed heavily and rolled off my bed and onto my knees. I straightened up and pleasantly bumped my head. I stretched and opened my draw to pull on my jeans. I tried to run a brush through my hair, but gave it up, instead pulling it back into a ponytail. I brushed my fringe out of my eyes impatiently. I opened my door and straightened my back with relief. The attic was great to be sure, and it was either live in the attic or share with my brother, but by god it was cramped.

I'm Sara-Lee. Most people know me as Sarlee, kind of a combination between the two. I'm the youngest in a family of 5. Ma, Pa, Teddy, Sam and Peter.

My cows harassed me as I made my way to their milking shed. I made soothing noises to them as I sat down next to each one. This was one of my favorite jobs around the farm; milking the problem cows who hated the milking machine. One of the most satisfying things is hearing the fresh milk swish inside the can, and I will rue the day that I ever have to stop.

The dust rose up in large swirls around my feet as I scuffed my feet over the dry creek bed that used to divide our property. Now you could hardly tell where Jones's property finished and ours started. It was pretty bad, the way the creek had just dried up like that. I coughed and turned around back in the direction of the house. You could see the old farmhouse rising out of the ground like Zeus from the sea. I could see Sam hailing me from the front step. I waved to show I had seen her and quickened my step. I slipped my arm around Sam's waist as I reached her.

"Hey" I said. Sam didn't look overly happy to see me "What's up?" I asked. She just looked grave.

"Pa's got something to tell us" she said "I-" she swallowed "I think we're moving to the city" I pulled my arm away from her waist.

"You're kidding," I said flatly, realizing as I did so that she wasn't. Sam wasn't the kind of person to make jokes; no sense of humor. Sam shook her head. I turned and marched up our front steps.

My parent's would be seated at the table with my brothers, probably expecting an uproar. Anyone who knew me knew they could always count on me to create a scene. Well, I wasn't going to disappoint them this time. I stormed into the kitchen and there they were, just as I had predicted.

"Is it true?" I asked. Everyone avoided my eyes. "Is it true?" I demanded. Still no one spoke. Then my mother came to stand behind my father, resting her hands on his shoulders. That movement told me volumes:
1. It was true
2. It was my Father's idea
3. My Mum saw it was pointless to resist
4. There was nothing I could do

I saw all that in one moment. "No!" I yelled "Why!" My Father opened his mouth to explain, but I turned around and headed back out the door. I sprinted away, creating a whorl-wind of dirt and dust; all of it getting in my eyes and nose and in my clothes and my hair and my mouth. I began to cough heavily, but I kept running. I knew my family knew where I was going. It was my thinking place. The old tree house at the border of our property and Jones's. I had always gone there. I climbed the rickety old ladder carefully. It had held my weight when I was 5, but now I wasn't so sure if it would.

I crawled into a corner and tucked my legs up tight and slid my arms around them. I sat for a long time, staring out the doorway. It was about noon when I had run off in my rage, and it was near dusk when the tree began to shake. I saw Peter appear in the doorway. I saw his teeth glint as he grinned at finding me here. He settled back against the tree house walls.

"You would always come here whenever you had a disagreement with anybody, did you know that?"

"Yes." I said shortly. Peter was unperturbed by my curtness.

"I don't know how it got here. Sam, Teddy and me all played here too." Now he had my attention.

"If you didn't build it, who did?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

" Probably Jones's Dad. Pa says Bill was always monkeying around up here."

"Oh." I let my attention wander again, my momentary interest fulfilled. A silence fell upon us, and I was damned if I was going to break it. Finally Peter said

"Look, I don't wanna go anymore than you do, but we have no choice, Pa's made up his mind." I turned my face to him.

"Then why don't you do something about it?" I knew Peter wouldn't answer, "Why?" I asked so that he could explain to himself.

"Because of the drought, Sarlee. Look what it's doing to the land." He pointed out towards the barren fields. "We can hardly grow anything in these conditions. There just isn't enough water. Think of your poor cows." He said, knowing the way to reason with me "What're they gonna do if there's no grass to eat?" I was suddenly confronted with the image of a dairy cow keeling over in the middle of a pasture. It was a little exaggerated, but a very realistic possibility. Peter, having done his bit to help the cause patted me on the shoulder and climbed back down.