waving on the platform, she had leaned back and closed her eyes to avoid having to talk to Mother.
A tear of regret at having to leave etched crookedly down the caked powder and vanishing cream on Mae's cheek, for she was frightened at having to begin their struggle all over again. She sniffed and Lucy opened her eyes. She had the feeling Mother really didn't want to leave Congress and discovered herself thinking for the first time that it was up to her to see that Mother was protected.
The August sun beat mercilessly through the glass, flies buzzed and pestered, and soot sifted through the window sill. This wasn't at all how she had pictured leaving for New York City.
In the upper berth from Chicago she slept alone for the first time. A fine way to go to New York City, wondering how and when you will know if you are pregnant. Riding along the Hudson she poked her fist into her side to see whether anything felt unusual but, if anything, she seemed thinner and softer. I'm scared about nothing, I'm just going to forget about it and not spoil my first night in New York City.
But fear haunted her the first week. Especially worrying was dread of having to tell Mother and scaring her, so one afternoon at Master's, imagining herself swelling after a lunch of watermelon and strawberry ice cream soda, she told her fears to Peggy Watson who turned out to be a goldmine of information. However, everything Peggy told her, and gave her, wasn't necessary.
"I'm a fountain!" she happily informed Peggy at Master's the following day.
"Boy—are you lucky!"
Chapter 16
ARBITER ELEGANTIARUM
On a muggy December afternoon Lucy sat crosslegged on the double bed of their hotel room. The latest issue of Mode lay across her knees open at a full-page photograph of herself. She ate the last of a chocolate bar and stared pensively at the gold-lettered window
