The Blue Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

“my mom’s going to want to meet you. And, well, you know. Once she sees you  ...”
    “Don’t worry. I clean up really well.”
    “I don’t know  ...”
    “Trust me with this,” I told her. “It’ll all work out.”
    *    *    *
    Meeting Maxine s mom for the first time entailed my trawling through a number of thrift shops for just the right costume. I had lots of plain blouses, but nothing in the way of the skirts or shoes or jackets that a serious student would wear. I could’ve worn some of the pants I’d had on earlier in the week, but judging from the fact that I’d only ever seen Maxine in a skirt or dress, I got the sense her mom didn’t really approve of pants.
    It took me a while, but eventually I found everything I needed, and for under ten bucks, too. I’m just so good.
    “Please tell me you’re not going out like that,” Mom said as I was about to step out the door.
    She was lying on the couch, hippie-casual in a tie-dyed T-shirt and faded, frayed jeans, one of her textbooks open on her lap. She looked over the top of her reading glasses so that she could check me out in sharper focus.
    “God, you look like my grandmother,” she said.
    “Oh, come on. Don’t you keep up on anything ? The goody-two-shoes look is all the rage.”
    She shook her head, sad rather than disapproving. “I just really thought I’d brought you up better than to slavishly follow the trends laid down by the fashionistas. And you know as well as I do that they get their marching orders from Big Business.”
    That’s my mom for you. Every little thing’s a part of the big conspiracy picture.
    I crossed over to the couch and kissed her on the cheek.
    “I love you, too, Mom,” I said, then headed out on my mission.
    It was a little like dressing up for Halloween, except nobody was handing out treats. But the best part of all of this was seeing Maxine’s face when she opened the door and found me standing in the hallway outside her apartment.
    I wasn’t wearing any makeup and my hair was neatly brushed, the sides held back behind my ears with barrettes. I had on a three-quarter-length conservative wool coat and sensible oxfords; a dark, pleated skirt that decorously covered my knees; and a white top with a bit of lacy frill around the collar, pinned at the throat with a cameo.
    “Imogene?” she said.
    I gave her a wink and put a finger to my lips when I saw she was going to bring up the obvious question of what I thought I was doing.
    “So s your mom home?” I asked.
    She gave a slow nod and stepped aside so I could come in.
    Her mom wasn’t the fierce dragon I’d built up in my mind. Instead, she was that most insidious creature: a nice, ordinary woman who went through life with the quiet assurance that she knew better than anybody else How Things Should Be. I could tell within the first few minutes of meeting her that while she might be pleasant, and even kind—in her own way, on her own terms—no one was ever going to change her mind once she had it made up about something. How’d I know? It’s hard to say. Maybe it was the set of her shoulders, or the steel I saw in her eyes.
    I just hoped she couldn’t read minds.
    “It’s very good to meet you, Mrs. Chancy,” I said when we were introduced.
    “It’s Ms. Tattrie,” she corrected me. “Maxine might have decided to keep her father’s name, but I most certainly have not.”
    Ho-kay.
    “I’m sorry, Ms. Tattrie,” I said. “I had no idea  ...”
    “Of course you didn’t. Would you like some tea before you girls begin your study session?”
    “Yes, please. Thank you.”
    Ms. Tattrie turned to Maxine. “Why don’t you see to it, dear? That will give me the chance to get to know your friend a little better.”
    Here comes the third degree, I thought, but Ms. Tattrie surprised me.
    “I’m so happy that Maxine has finally found a friend,” she said once Maxine was out of the room.
    Unspoken, but tangled there in her words if you were