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Show •88 ambitious little girl?" I didn't answer. In my head I was writing an imaginary letter to my brother. Mary-Ellen came all the way in and wiped a round hole in the steamy mirror so that she could look at herself. Dear Jacob, I wrote. I hope you are doing what you want. Editing a science-fiction magazine, perhaps. As for me, I am confused but I hope to be happy soon. "No," Mary-Ellen said. "Because it's for you I want the best. You couldn't just be a sign-painter all your life." "I'm not even a sign-painter," I said. "Only an apprentice. And it isn't so bad. Up there all by myself I have a chance to think." "Well I wish Mr. Thorneberry would let you into sales. That's where you could really show people something." "Fat Wayne is a creep," I said. She licked the t i p of her l i t t l e finger and drew i t across one eyebrow to smooth i t , peering into the mirror. "You don't know how t o handle people," she said. "I hate s a l e s . I' d be the world's worst sign salesman and I think Wayne knows i t . " I dropped the towel and put my hands around Mary-Ellen's waist; she turned, gave me a peck on the cheek and quickly wriggled loose. "You've had your fun. We d o n ' t have time to fool around now. You know how Maybelle hates i t when anybody comes l a t e ." We f l o a t e d across town in the green Chrysler and I |
