"You WHAT?"
Josephine held the phone away from her ear as her mother bellowed. She put it back and repeated what she just said. "I volunteered to foster a little kid."
Mrs. Amable snorted in disgust and disbelief. "Josephine, are you mad? You live in an apartment—"
"Ranch house," Josephine corrected sharply.
"You don't have any money—"
"Mother, you're overreacting. She's nine years old and she's been with me for a week. I just thought you'd like to know in case you pop over for one of your surprise visits."
"You've been housing this child for a week and you're telling me now?" Mrs. Amable sounded weary. "I better get over there and make sure you're not corrupting the poor thing."
"Oh for sobbing out loud," Josephine grumbled. "I really wish you wouldn't."
"You know how I get with children, Josephine. Whether she is of your blood or not, she is a temporary granddaughter and I don't want anything bad to come of her."
"But wait," Josephine started to protest but her mother had all ready hung up the phone. Shaking her head, she put the receiver back into the cradle and turned, finding Max right behind her. It was her darn catlike ways that made her so quiet and easy for her to sneak up on Josephine.
"Your mother does not like me," Max stated as a certainty.
"Well, we'll soon find that out," Josephine said, coming over to Max and rubbing her stubble of hair. "That shirt looks nice on you." Max smoothed the purple cotton tee and looked proud. It was odd getting used to wearing jeans and comfortable shirts and sneakers.
Just like Josephine had promised, she took Max to Wal-Mart to get her some new "out-of-Manticore" clothes (or "civilian apparel" as Max put it). Four pairs of jeans, ten shirts, three sweaters, two dresses (on Max's request), a pair of sneakers, a pair of patent leather Mary Jane's, four three-packs of underwear and a dozen socks later, Max was pretty much set.
"So many," Max was awed at the choices set before her as Josephine held her by the hand and led her through the Girls' Clothing Department. She loved the feel of all the fabrics and stood at the jewelry counter for what seemed like hours, just admiring the sapphires, rubies, emeralds and diamonds with eyes wide.
"What do I call your mother?" Max asked as Josephine led her out of the kitchen by the hand.
"Certainly not Grandma," Josephine muttered under her breath. In a louder voice, she explained to Max that she should just address her as Mrs. Amable and leave it at that.
"Is she nice?"
How do I answer a question like that? "Well, growing up I told her I hated her at least a dozen times. She was always denying me of something and I told her she was mean and all that…I guess you'll just have to see for yourself."
"Where does she live?"
"Seattle, but she's apparently in Wyoming for the time being because she's coming today. Seattle fits her better. My mother is the most depressing person in the world—rainy weather is suitable."
"Where is Seattle?"
"In Washington state…it rains almost twenty-four-seven there. Very gloom and doom."
"Why is she so depressing?"
"Her favorite game is Guess Who Died."
"Huh?" Max looked up with an incredulous look on her face.
"Never mind…you'll see. Um, go put on one of those dresses that we bought for you. I want you to make a good impression."
Meanwhile, Josephine made mental notes to herself in case her mother asked too many questions concerning Max.
Calm down, Jo. She's not all bad. Sure she read your diary when you were in high school and made you wear that stupid pink dress for your Sweet Sixteen, but give her a break.
Max went to her closet (she now thought of everything in Jo's office as hers) and picked out a nice one-piece dress of the palest blue. Most of the clothes she had picked out while shopping with Jo were blue—she loved the richness and varieties of it and Jo said it was a good color for her. Blue also represented the "Virgin Mary", as Jo called her. She had yet to learn about this Virgin. It was something she wanted to learn about very, very much. For instance, why could she see her heart in that card Ben had? Maybe Jo's mother had answers. That was another mystery—Jo's mother. Mother. It was a foreign word to her. What was it like to have a mother? What did she do? Max slipped the dress over her head and gazed in the mirror. She was becoming quite narcissistic when it came to primping.
Pretty me, pretty me. Beauty queen. Drama queen. Social butterfly. Words she read in some of Jo's fashion magazines came flooding back to her.
Max wished she asked Jo to buy her a hat but she already had done so much. Hats would cover what little hair she had.
She really didn't want to leave this house, but come spring she would have to. She promised. Promises were a big thing back in Manticore. Didn't Ben promise the Blue Lady would save them all? Not all—only twelve got out.
She traced a circle on the oak dresser with her finger as she studied her face again and again. My lips too big, my nose too squat, my eyes too narrow—I really look like this?
"Max!" Jo called. "What are you doing in there?"
"Just…" Max answered. "Just looking…at something—I mean, for something."
"Find it and hurry up. I need you to do talk to you."
Max pulled on some new socks and the Mary Jane's and shuffled out of her room.
"Okay, Max," Jo said quickly once she seated her on the couch. "Whatever I say to my mother, just go along with it."
"What if I do not agree with what you are saying?" Max asked sharply.
"Then you will shut your mouth and let me take care of it. You may be the so-called soldier here, but I am the adult."
"I don't have to listen to you."
"Hey, hey, hey. Who's your bread and water for the next month, huh? If you wanna stay here, you let me handle this, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am," Max sulked.
"Okay. Rule one: no mentioning Manticore. My mother will give you the third degree and if you let anything slip…"
"I promise."
"Then it's set. Rule two: don't talk back."
"Talk back?"
"Yeah, talk back. As in being a smart alec," Josephine glared. "No telling her that you don't have to listen to her or acting like you're nineteen instead of nine. When you're nineteen, you can do whatever you want—get a job, get a motorcycle, live in your own apartment, fall in love with a guy totally opposite of you—but for the time being you're not even in double digits yet so act like the sweet little girl I made you out to be."
Max mused over this for a few seconds and then nodded. "What if she asks about—"
"If she asks about anything about you, I'll take care of it."
The doorbell rang, scaring Max out of her skin.
"No turning back now," Josephine said. She went to the front door and opened it with a cheery, "Hello, Mother. Nice of you to drop by."