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Show accent, "Excuse me. Miss Hawkins, could you please roll up your window?" The counselor pushed a lever and the window went up, easy as blinking. "You must be from a warmer climate if this little breeze bothers you," Miss Hawkins said. Isabel shook her head. "I live here." "Here?" Kim glanced out at the endless rows of dinky matchbox houses squeezed together on the hills. "Not HERE," said Isabel. "I live in Pacific Heights." Isabel said Pacific Heights as if it were the White House. As she thought about the name, Kim remembered seeing colored pictures in a magazine of big big homes in San Francisco with expensive cars out in front. She guessed Isabel's home must be one of those. During the whole trip, Isabel and Maureen talked about the Ballet Academy and summer parties and the boys they had dated, making no effort to include her in the conversation, and Kim was thinking they'd be friendlier on the trip back, after they'd seen her dance. Maureen talked with the same thick accent and nasally voice as Isabel. She had her auburn hair pulled into a rope braid which hung down her back. It seemed to Kim as though some girls just looked like dancers-their posture, the way 26 |
