by the back way so as to walk between the two houses and peek in the Welland windows. Once she heard a high little laugh and she tiptoed to see but saw nothing. Then one day when she felt she could not bear the suspense another second, Mrs. Claudel came out and fixed two porch chairs like a bed, piling these with cushions and quilts. Vida pretended to be digging dandelions.
Then it happened. She looked up and saw the most beautiful girl in the world. Thin and pale and with enormous slanting blue eyes and golden curls as neat and smooth as new wood shavings, she held wrapped around her a pale blue flannel dressing gown tied at the neck with a big blue satin bow. On her feet were white marabou slippers. A girl one dreamed a movie star would be like if one could see her close by. Vida, transfixed, watched Lucy snuggling into the chairs. Mrs. Claudel said something in a low voice and went into the house.
Lucy eyed the girl in the plaid gingham dress. She was pretty, and her brown hair would be easy to curl because it had a slight natural wave. It was so quiet on this street. Maybe the girl would come and talk with her. Lucy knew she would have to speak first. Boys always spoke first to her but girls always waited until she said hello. She didn't mind. What difference did it make who said hello first? She waited until Vida looked up.
"Hello."
A common word exchanged mechanically a hundred times a day arrived at its destination to confuse the senses. A sweet candid la in music. Vida could not believe that the heavenly vision floating on the pillowed cloud could mean her. She gaped and saw it was true. She was speechless. Shall I go up there and sit on her steps or should I just say hello, she thought for a desperate moment, seeing, as she delayed, Lucy's big blue eyes observing her. With a strangled, barely audible "hello" she then rushed, burning, into the house.
If her mother ever said another bad thing about Lucy Claudel she would kill her.
Since that day it was torture to be away from sight of 42 for fear of missing a chance to be with Lucy.
The trouble is, she thought peering anxiously down the dark street, I can't think of anything to say to her. I bet she thinks I'm stupid. I guess I am. I've never been anywhere like she has. When I ask or tell her something, 1 see her thinking what a small town
