Seven years old, desperately hot and seriously pissy. I have some sort of freakish summer cold on the first day the pool is open. The worst! I’d much rather be sick in the winter, at least then people don’t stare when you shiver uncontrollably. I stand in line to get my picture taken for my I.D. card, trying desperately not to sneeze, tears squeeze from my swollen eyes. I’ll keep my thumb pressed firmly over this picture when showing my card for the rest of the summer. Waves of bright light and parching heat relentlessly wash over my aching head making it threaten to split open.The over ripe melon in Dad’s garden with the maggots spilling out. Stumbling through the blinding shallows of the kiddie pool, I can barely see my goal through the sea of shrieking toddlers. Their shrieking cries pierce the base of my skull, I imagine blood trickling down the back of my neck instead of sweat. I have staggered all this way to answer my most burning question, to find out whether I have what it takes, to see if I will measure up. The enormous shining aqua blue Slippy Slide rises, a behemoth in the distance. Will I be 48 inches tall?