Seven-year-old Sunday Welles ran up the path, her brown braided pigtails flapping along behind her. Dust flew up in little puffs around her legs, a result in not having much rain. Of course, that was to be expected when you lived in Sycamore, Arizona. As she reached the schoolyard Sunday realized, she had been on time for once.
Sunday stopped just inside the gates and let her emerald green eyes take in her surroundings. She spotted Jimmy Duncan and a group of boys playing a game with a small ball. Sunday approached them.
"Can I play?" She asked. The boys stopped and looked at her, and Jimmy shot her a buck-toothed smile.
"No – you're a girl!"
"What's that gotta do with anything?"
"Girls can't do nuttin'" Sunday place her hands on her hips.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that girls can't do anything but cook, clean, and take care of babies."
"That's not true!" Sunday cried
"Yes it is!" The school bell rang then, and the boys abandoned their game.
"You just wait Jimmy Duncan!" Sunday shouted after his retreating figure. "I'll make sumthin' of myself!"