In the heart, Lemon Meringue Pie Lie

     At the Commissary on Saturdays, her mom stockpiles Frosted Flakes, Raisin Bran, and powdered milk. Her Dad, an entomologist, says that the Brazilian cow’s milk is churning with dangerous microorganisms, so they use dried milk. It doesn’t taste like milk and it’s a chunky yellow color. Phoebe’s mom tries to make everyone feel better. She finds the in-gredients to make the favorite family dessert: lemon meringue pie. Her mom sifts patiently through the shelves of Brazilian foods and finds the magic ingredients for a really special pie. "Things are so different here," muses Phoebe.

      Still daydreaming, she whispers, "The tradition of the Bahíanos includes drums and dancing, more so than food. Even the tired donkeys seem to trot along to a rhythmic beat. The sound of zabumba drums is in the hearts of the Brazilians. I wish I had a heart like that."

      Once her mom makes the pie, Phoebe and her family eat the lemon meringue pie until there is one piece left. It is an unspoken rule that the last piece of pie belongs to her dad. He hides that one piece of leftover pie in the back of the fridge, just for him.