Brave Girls of Riverside

By Patricia Noll

Sparky, Harold, and Jo spend one summer finding out life has many mysteries and that lifes situations allow them to decide between options that have many outcomes. Mysteries require their thought and investigation where their sense of right and wrong are always tested. Their strengths are tested in their adventure hunting. How they meet their challenges mold their character and allow them to know their best self.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781466979093

Patricia Noll

Patricia Noll grew up in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh, is married to a scientist, and has three sons and six grandchildren. She believes children love adventure, are curious about their life, and are always trying to find their true path.

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Copyright 2013 Patricia Noll.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-7909-3 (e)

Trafford rev. 02/12/2013

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CONTENTS

THE ADVENTURES OF THE RIVERSIDE GIRLS

THE NEIGHBORHOOD GIRLS

PUTTING MOM ON THE LINE

THE VISITOR CALLS AGAIN

OUR TRIP TO TOWN

MORE BEDTIME STORIES

PREPARING FOR MOM’S DATE

GRANDMA’S HISTORY LESSON

A NEW FRIEND: A CLOSER

LOOK AT A RELIGION

MISS ROBERTSON VISITS MOM

THE CARNIVAL

THE LAST SUPPER

THE ADVENTURES OF THE RIVERSIDE GIRLS

Summertime is supposed to be the best time of the year, and this summer was wonderful—and terrible—just like life, fun and problems mixed right together. It all happened here in my town, Riverside, to me, my sister, Jo and my cousin, Harold.

Riverside is a valley with a highway running right through the middle of it. Sometimes Mum calls our town a fishbowl, and complains that the neighbors find things out about us before we do. Anyway, the hills all around are where Harold and I have great adventures which I’ll tell you about.

The terrible time was caused because our mum lives in her mum’s retirement house which is directly behind Grandma’s big house. See, Grandma and her favorite daughter, Aunt Betsy—who is Harold’s mother—wanted my mum, who’s a widow, to get married so Mum would move out of the retirement house. That way, the house would remain picture-perfect for Grandma and her retirement.

We were informed there would be another special dinner for everyone at Grandma’s house, because Aunt Betsy and Grandma were setting Mum up with another man. A man. I don’t think we need a man or a dad or no one because I feel we do just fine. But kids don’t matter because big people run everything.

Big people not only run everything, they spread gossip worst than kids, like when Harold and I went to the Economy store to get Mrs. King, our neighbor, some soap and my mum a loaf of bread, like always. We took a short cut through the tomato beds, walked on the wooden bed frames while balancing ourselves like we were in a circus.

Harold held out his arms balancing himself, and asked, Wanta go to the mines?

I thought a little. No, I answered. Not today. How about going back to the river? I thought with school being just out it would be about time to do some investigating, see if the island and diving rock and mine were ready for us to explore this summer. He did not answer so I asked, Okay?

Yeah. What do you gotta get at the store? He jumped off the wooden frame and started to run down the lane.

I ran after yelling, Well, wait up for crimenee sakes, and flew up to him half out of breath, Gees, Harold. You’re not supposed to ask a person a question and run off. I just got to get some stuff for Mrs. King and my mum. What are you gettin’ anything for Grandma for tonight?

He slapped a low branch, looked away from me, Naw, Grandma and Mum have the stuff all ready. We just need some pipe tobacco for Grandpap. Mostly, I’m just goin’ along because school’s out and I want to stay out of the house. Mum’s making stuff for tonight.

Like what, lemon pie? I asked.

I think chocolate cake, real special stuff like that,

He rounded the corner and headed straight to the Economy store.

Harold, I called after him, real special stuff for a real special meeting. Chocolate cake trap. Oh, well. The big night, time to get rid of Mum.

He thought a little as he looked down the street. I heard Mum and Grandma talking about this man who’s coming to visit and see your mother. Aunt Eunice’s friend, so he must be pretty nice, don’t yah think?

It made me so mad to think of another man-plan. What grade are you promoted to, Harold? I turned the change over in my pocket, looked straight ahead.

Boy, are you dumb. He said like I was a dunce. The third and you are going into sixth; you’re ten and I’m seven, like you don’t already know. Now, how about answering my question?

Harold, I said wishing for once he’d understand things a little. They sure plan things real nice and neat. Aunt Eunice has to come all the way from Pittsburgh to bring a man for her sister. He’ll probably have B.O. Mr. Brewer probably knows about everything, too.

Harold held the store door open and slowly entered the store with lead feet. Probably, Sparky. Mum says news travels fast in this town. Hi, Mr. Brewer. Hot enough for you today?

I liked when Harold left himself and talked like a grownup. I was glad to have the subject changed, and cheerfully said, Hi, Mr. Brewer. I have to get a loaf of bread and a box of Tide.

Mr. Brewer, the grocery man, wasn’t real old or real young. His kids were old enough to work in the store, and he always had on a white butcher’s apron with blood on it. He had a very strange habit, like he was a gangster. He would pull his top teeth over his bottom lip while he pulled his pants with his two hands at his waist. I thought it very strange, but it was just his habit. He wasn’t nice or mean. What else did you want? he asked, looking down on us like we were no different than the soap or bread and pulled his white teeth over his bottom lip as he lowered the soap and bread into a bag and slid it very smoothly across the counter right by my cheek.

I looked at the blood stains on his apron and answered, A banana B-B-Bat. Harold wants some pipe tobacco.

Harold bumped into me. I already have it right here. He put the tobacco in front of my face and laid his money down as Mr. Brewer slid the money easily across the worn path on his counter and plunked it into his cash register.

Mr. Brewer gave us our change and said, Okay, you two, got everything? Watch your change. You know your aunt’s coming from Pittsburgh for a big dinner at your grandmother and grandpa’s house.

Gees, I heard myself saying. Does the whole town know?

Gangster style, Mr. Brewer put his open hands on his belt, pulled them up as he pulled his top teeth over his lower lip and watched us go toward the door. Your grandmother was in to buy some meat and goodies for everyone. Going to be a great dinner. Not even thinking about the bomb he dropped, he started to wait on some ladies who came in.

Harold started to talk after we were up the sidewalk a piece. We can go back to the river as soon as we give this stuff to my mom, right? He took the box of soap and plunked it on his head.

Okay, I answered slowly. But we can’t stay long. We have to get home and take a bath, put on smelly junk to smell okay for big people. You know, Harold, I said, thinking about Mr. Brewer. We can’t have one single secret, not one.

Harold kept tapping the soap when it tilted to one side, then, tapped it to the other, until it went plop, right onto the ground, denting one corner. Oh, no, he said, and picked it up trailing a spray of soap power all over the place. You’re going to get it.

I’m going to get it? Some friend you are, I crabbed, watching the soap mist sneak out every time he squeezed or gripped the box. Mrs. King’s going to be so mad. Give it to me. Never trust a man. I tucked the slippery box under my arm. You are a noodle brain. We turned the corner; there was Mrs. King standing on her porch with her hands on her hips, her work apron on, just giving us her familiar ‘where have you been look’.

Come on, she called as soon as she saw us, waving her arm to hurry. I handed her the soap, and she handed me my usual nickel. You’ll be having your supper over at your Aunt Betsy’s tonight, I see. What’s this?" she cried, watching her soap escape in fine drifts from the crunched corner. She held the box over her banister while she searched my face for an explanation.

Slowly I said, It dropped on the sidewalk when I got help from Harold. Harold gave me a little punch on my head.

Mrs. King moved the box of soap under her arm, and a little cloud of dust sneaked out like a cloud from a World War II bomb. I wish you’d be more careful. She ran her hand over her drying tea towels that hung on her porch between two white pillars, forgetting about the dented soap and on with her work.

I got brave and asked, Mrs. King, why are we eating over at my Grandma’s tonight? Do you know anything about this event?

She looked down at me when she heard the word event and watched me for a second, then just as quickly back to testing her tea towels. Well, my goodness. Your Aunt Betsy was over today and she said you’re having your Aunt Eunice over from Pittsburgh for a nice dinner. That’s nothing for you to get worried about, for gracious sakes. Well, I must get back to my wash. She turned, and before I knew it her screen door went shut.

I stood there feeling let down, as Mum would say. Harold’s voice broke through my thoughts and I turned from the door and stared like I didn’t see him.

Hey, Sparky, he said with fun in his voice. My dad’s asleep. Let’s take a ride to Nebraska. What da ya say?

I always wondered if boys thought differently than girls because Harold didn’t think anything was wrong like I did. Anyway, I was used to it.

Going to Nebraska meant we’d sit in Uncle Buck’s 1939 Buick and act like we are driving to Hollywood to see Rita Hayworth, for me, and Roy Rogers for Harold. It sounded like fun right about now, even if it was dangerous.

We ran around to the front of Mrs. King’s yard and crossed in front of Grandma’s and, just like he said, there sat his dad’s Buick. I opened the driver’s side door and said jumping in, I get to drive first, okay?

Harold hopped in beside me and pulled the door slowly, Yeah, sure. But only drive to Oklahoma. I’ll take the Indian territory through Nebraska.

I thought a bit pushing the floppy shifter while I stretched my foot to push in a pedal and said, Harold, we’d have to go north if we went from Oklahoma to Nebraska. We’re trying to get to Hollywood which is west, you know. Gotta keep straight on our path.

He was rooting through the glove compartment, papers falling out and stuff like that as he answered a little bit mad trying to shove the papers back, Okay then, smarty-pants, tell me what’s next to Oklahoma?

I heard the glove compartment click shut, and he sat back when I looked over and answered, I think it’s Arizona. No, it’s New Mexico. Yes, it’s New Mexico.

Sure of himself, he answered, It’s New Mexico. Watch out for that buffalo! Gees, if you’re going to drive, watch the road.

I swerved to miss his buffalo and said, "How can you be so sure it’s New Mexico?

He gave his glasses a push against his nose with one finger, folded his arms and said, Cause Grandma and me look at Grand pap’s map and name the states.

I kept driving, missing cactus and cowboys and said, Well, you better check where Nebraska is then. We’re almost in Arizona. Wanta stop and see Hoppy?

Harold was looking below his seat and wasn’t listening.

Gees, Sparky, lookie here. This seat has a pocket under it, and there’s a lump in it. Lemme see what it is. He got down and crouched on the floor and slid his hand under the seat, reaching. He pulled out a pistol and pointed it at me. Wow, Sparky! It’s a gun.

I pushed the gun away and yelled, Don’t point that at me for cripe sakes! Put it back.

Just like a guy, Harold said, taking a closer look at the gun, This is really something. Look, I can see the bullets. He handed it to me. See.

Put it away! Put it away! I cried and turned myself and slid off the front seat onto the floor while I took the gun with my one finger and reached over and tried to find the pocket. There. It’s back. Don’t ever touch that gun again, Harold. I felt stuck, squeezed between the seat and steering post and I crabbed, I hope you know, we are wrecked and have no money to get to Hollywood. Thank you very much for snooping into stuff you’re not supposed to. You better try to drive, see if this thing is going to start. I started to wiggle up when I spotted Uncle Buck coming out of the house. My heart did a flip-flop. We’re dead."

Harold popped his head up. His eyes got bigger than anything, and he squeezed them shut and crumbled himself into a heap, as low as I was. I hope he didn’t see us, Sparky, he whispered.

I waited, hoping. Me, too, I whispered back, and kept my head down.

When I looked up, Uncle Buck’s long, muscled arm was pulling Harold by the neck through the side window. Have I caught a few rats trying to put one over on me?

Harold’s feet were off the ground, his face redder than anything; he struggled to break his dad’s hold. Lemme alone. Harold cried and pulled at his dad’s hand. We weren’t doing nothing! We were just driving to… Uncle Buck threw him on the ground, turned and looked for me.

By this time, I had come back around the car and stood behind the front door hoping I would have some distance from him.

He saw me and headed right to me. His teeth were clamped together and his lips twisted like a mad dog, as his words growled out, you, you little wop. You probably told him to do this. His big hand yanked at my ear, pulled me around. I grabbed my head to keep my ear from hurting while I was dragged.

I yelled, Oh, let go of my ear, Uncle Buck. We didn’t touch anything. I tried to pull his hand away.

He dropped me and pulled open his car door and sat in the passenger’s seat, rooted in the glove compartment. Then, he pulled the door without it going shut all the way, when Grandma came out of the house with her face all screwed up, mean eyes, spitting fire right at Uncle Buck.

I could see Uncle Buck was reaching down and checking his gun when Grandma screamed, What’s all the commotion out here? The neighbors will be calling the police with all your noise.

Aunt Betsy followed with a broom in her hand, her hair spilled out of her bandana, spots speckled her apron, and she looked shocked at Harold and me in a pile in her front yard.

Harold, she yelled. What are you doing? You were told time and again to stay out of your father’s car. Mom, he’s going to get a spanking.

Grandma pulled some loose hair behind her ear and said, Sparky, did you start this?

Uncle Buck looked out of his car and said, She’s always leading him into something, Mom. He pushed open his door real quick, not caring one bit if it hit Harold or me. I watched his face and thought he was none the wiser that Harold and I saw his gun.

Grandma, yelled at me, Sparky, get your things and get over to your mother’s. She asked you hours ago to go to the store. Harold, you go along. Come on Betsy, we better get in and finish. She shot Uncle Buck a mean look as Harold and I got on home.

Inside, I called, Hey, Mum. Where are you?

What’s the matter? Mom asked, coming through the kitchen from the dining room. You’re so excitable. Did you forget the bread? She was in her bathrobe and slippers with bunny tail that were worn away.

I didn’t forget, Mum. I answered, and patted the bread into a better shape while I slid it onto the table and dropped the change in the pitcher on the cupboard. I took a quick look at Mum’s expression. She noticed the bread, but I hurried and said, I heard from everyone in this town that we’re going to Grandma’s for supper. I mean everyone knows, right Harold?

From his seat he muttered, Yeah, Aunt Eileen. Everyone on the whole street told us about it. Just like it’s the biggest feast in the world.

Mom, I said, even Mrs. King knows. Aunt Betsy told her.

Darn, this town’s no more than a fish bowl. Everyone knows everything about us before we know. Yes, it’s all true. Don’t get all upset, Sparky like I know you always do. Your Aunt is coming. Eunice is driving from Pittsburgh.

It was over as far as she was concerned. The subject changed. She said, and looked out the window, I don’t want you out long. You’ll wear the dresses Aunt Eunice made for you and Jo. Be home early. How about a couple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch? She slid her finger through the waxed-papered end on the loaf of bread.

Sounds good, Aunt Eileen, Harold said, starting to spread his bread. I’ll eat two. Can I have some tea, too?

Just as we were having our tea and peanut butter sandwiches, who comes in the door but Harold’s mother, Aunt Betsy; her blond hair fell all over her face and she’d push it back all the time while she talked. No matter, her eyes shined and twinkled like a movie star’s. I hoped she wasn’t here to squeal on us.

Right away she zeroed-in on Harold. Why didn’t you bring Grand pap’s tobacco over? They were in Buck’s car again, Eileen, driving to Hollywood like two silly things. She picked up the pack of tobacco from the table and hit Harold on his head. I was glad she hit him with something soft this time.

I am sorry, Mum, Harold said, trying to dive under her swat. I forgot. I won’t get in the car again. I was comin’ home as soon as I ate. He showed her his sandwich.

Aunt Betsy pushed his hand away and snapped, I can see it. I told you I don’t want you to have tea. I know you put a half cup of sugar in it.

He took a sip and another bite of his sandwich, a tiny one this time and all the expression was gone from his face, his happiness slipped away. Then, she smacked him, just like she always did. Oh, close your fish mouth, hanging open just like a fish. She poured a cup of tea and sat down.

Harold started to cry. He wasn’t making noise, but tears were rolling down on his peanut butter sandwich. Mom sat like she was frozen; her face real still. If she said anything, Harold would only get it worse.

Aunt Betsy’s cleaning apron had streaks of dust and wrinkles like she wiped her hands on it a couple time, and her bandana slipped a little letting more golden curls sneak out so pretty. I always wondered how someone so pretty could be so mean. She turned her attention back to Mum, I hope you’ll have the girls ready, Eileen. This could mean a lot to you. Eunice said she’d be here about six, six-thirty. We’re cleaning and cooking like mad; everything’ll be nice. You’ll be on time, won’t you?

Mom kept looking at her spoon. I don’t see why not. She combed Harold’s hair with her fingers, Harold, you know you shouldn’t get in your father’s car. She looked at me and said, You, Sparky, should know better. Then asked Harold, Do you want another sandwich?

Aunt Betsy paid no attention to Mom’s being nice to Harold. She snapped, Just don’t give him tea, Eileen. She got up to leave and pointed her finger in Harold’s face. And Harold, you get yourself home early or your dad’s going to be very mad. You hear?

Yes, Mum, he said slowly. What do I have to do? Take a bath and put stinky-smelling stuff on my hair?

Yes, so you don’t look like a heathen. She went out and slammed the screen door.

Mom looked at Harold and me. I guess she took on more than she thought. I’d help her, but she doesn’t want my help.

I know, Aunt Eileen, Harold said, biting into a sugar cookie, Grandma and Mum don’t want any help. So don’t be sorry if they work real hard. I know you’d help.

Mom smiled at Harold. Come on, Harold. You and Sparky go out and play now or you won’t have any time left. Be careful because your dad’s right in the middle of the yard. No more driving cars, you two.

Harold and I watched him from the window, staying to the side. He walked back the sidewalk away from the side we sneaked around. Then he came back towards our house with his beer belly, as my mom calls it, and his shirt buttons were all stretched ready to pop. He always wears a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You think he’d wear a tee shirt like the rest of the men who work in the mill. But he doesn’t, probably because Aunt Betsy is an angel, and it’s only right to wear a shirt in front of an angel.

I think we can make it, Harold, I said watching Uncle Buck turn again and head away from our house. We hurried out our yard to the opposite side of Grandma’s house, away from Uncle Buck.

Harold came around the bushes, Uncle Buck grabbed Harold’s shirt collar and yelled, Hold it. Just a darn minute. You two aren’t going anywhere. After getting into my car, I have a little job for you. He pulled Harold’s collar up and Harold’s neck disappeared.

Harold blinked and tried to push his glasses up, but missed. They stayed right on the middle of his nose. Just tell us so we can do it, he cried trying to look up. We’re going back to the river to mess around a while. That’s all. He twisted out of Uncle Buck’s grip, but Uncle Buck just grabbed him again, only tighter.

Uncle Buck half dragged, half pushed Harold into the middle of the grass. You don’t need to go back to the river. Naw, you stay right here and pick up this yard. Company’s coming and you two have candy papers all over the yard. He let go of Harold’s crumpled shirt and Harold plopped on the ground.

I heard Mom open the kitchen door and come out on the porch. She stood watching, holding her towel. Then Uncle Buck pulled my hand to see if I had fingernail polish on which he’d made me scrape off with my teeth. I pulled my hand out of his and wiped it off on the back of my dress.

Uncle Buck, I said looking up, we picked up the papers yesterday. There’s no big paper around. Just look. I pointed to the ground away from Harold.

He took a long drink of his beer that was on the picnic bench. Hey, you smart-mouth wop. You little Ginney. Don’t you get a mouth on you with me. I said pick up the papers—now pick ’em up. Grandma came out on her porch behind Uncle Buck.

Down came her broom on the banister. Bam! Buck? she yelled. Will you stop! We’re trying to work. You’re on the late shift; get some sleep! She pulled back some stray hair that fell on her small face. Now let the kids go play and shut your mouth. She went in her house and threw the door shut and it bounce a couple times.

Uncle Buck looked like smoke was going to come out of his head and threw his beer bottle in the garbage can. He walked around the side of the house to the front yard with Harold watching from the ground. Slowly, a smile turned to a snicker on Harold’s face and disappeared just as fast as he picked himself up.

Mom was still on the porch. Sparky, she called. Now will you and Harold go back to the river or wherever, so I can have some peace?

Harold grabbed my arm and pulled me around the other side of Grandmother’s from the way Uncle Buck went. I think Dad went to get in his car, Harold said, sneaking his head around the front of the yard. Yep, there he goes, starting his car.

The Buick made a swirl in the dirt road and went towards town leaving dust clouds the way the cowboys with the black hat does in the movies. We knew the coast was clear and hi-tailed it to the river.

Back at the river is lots of fun because of all the things we can do back there like go off the diving rock, a rock that looks like a piece of pie sticking out of the bank right over the water. Then there are the rocks on the shallow part of the river that are like furniture, one big flat rock is our couch, one is our kitchen. Lots of ideas come to us like that, seeing the rocks. There’s the cave, near the bend in the river, right at the edge of the woods, at the end of the path at the river, where Grandpa said he used to take his men when he was a miner. Harold goes into this mine. I don’t—too scary. I almost forgot… the island.

The island is our favorite place because no kids go there, only Harold and me, for some reason. We can camp there and have lots of adventures.

We decided to go to the diving rock and throw stones. The water wasn’t too high and the island looked nice, with weeds covering it pretty good, making a nice hiding place, if a person needed it.

My handful of pebbles dropped, plink, plink, plink from the rock. I asked Harold, Can you throw one to the island? I threw one and it landed almost halfway, making a nice plunk, then sank.

Ha, Harold laughed. I can do better than that, and threw two rocks in a row, both landing past mine, but not much.

Hey, Harold, I said. That’s not all that great, only a little past mine.

I know, he said and wiped his hands on his shorts, turned and jumped off the diving rock and started to walk back home.

I watched, hoping he’d turn back. Hey, Harold. We just got here. Where’re you goin’? Out to see the rabbits? Harold’s dad kept rabbits just out of the woods. Their pens are sitting just before you come off the dirt road into the woods that lead back to the river.

I watched him walk up the road. He stopped and looked back at the furniture rocks in the low water and hopped over the water onto a rock in the middle of the river when his foot slipped between two rocks. He must have changed his mind about seeing the rabbits, I thought.

Come on, he called. Let’s get over there, Sparky. I stopped and watched him jump over two more rocks; then I jumped and slipped into the low water that separated us from the island.

Harold, now my shoe’s all wet. Cripes, I cried.

He landed on the island and called, Come on. You have two more jumps. Jump, will ya?

He grabbed my arm and pulled me through the weeds onto the island. Hey, I said, looking around. Look how nice the trees cover everything. We can sit here and no one can see us.

Yeah, he said, looking around, too. Now, we can have a secret place. We have to pull some of these weeds in the middle of the island to make a camp.

Okay, I said, and started to tramp down the weeds. Here’re the rocks we can use for seats. You can put our camp fire there. I pointed to the center of the camp.

He was thinking about everything we’d need. You know, Sparky, we could bring blankets and hide them in something so they won’t get wet. Then we wouldn’t have to bring blankets every time we want to come here. And we can bring canned beans and other stuff from the fruit cellar.

That’d be neat. Harold, I said, thinking of anything we’d need. We could store matches, blankets, a can opener and some dishes right here. But it’s gotta be waterproof. Let’s make a cupboard out of rocks.

Hey, yeah. That’s a good idea, he said excited, then helped me pile rocks. We had a nice square of rocks with a deep hole. This is pretty neat, you know that?

Yeah, it is. Let’s not forget the tuna fish. That’s something we can store here, I offered as I thought.

Harold checked everything out and said like a general, Done for now. Let’s sit and think of anything else. Then he threw himself on a long, low, smooth rock and didn’t talk for a long time. Then he looked up but was far away. You know what? he said in a soft, small voice.

What? I asked.

I hate my dad, he said very softly.

You hate him, your dad? I repeated just to make sure I heard what I heard.

Yeah, I hate him, he said quietly, like before.

You mean because he makes us pick up the yard? I tried to understand why he said what he did.

He kept looking at nothing and said slowly, Because he’s a real bad person.

Harold sat drawing in the dirt with a crooked stick. It seemed like the hate he felt filled the air. I knew he was telling the truth. I quivered and rubbed the goose bumps on my arms.

Soon he started to talk again. See, my dad beats me. Something inside him makes him hurt me and he likes to do it. No. He doesn’t like to hurt me… it’s like… he has to. It’s like a devil gets in him. Slowly Harold pushed a stick around in the dirt. Like he was reaching deep inside his head, he said like he didn’t doubt it. He’s not a regular person.

Harold, I said, trying not to sound nervous, you never told me about this. Will you be all right?

He looked away. "Well, Grandma’s there and Mom. But Mom tries to make me