“Time for my Patience,” she said. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. The fact that she stayed on and risked being discovered so foolishly was a testament to something, but what? Lucy’s new form elicited stares and comments from acquaintances before even walking through the doors of Lincoln High School. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room.
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