looking for someone?"
Anastasia introduced herself, and Fran McCormick shook her hand.
"I have a friend," said Anastasia, "who is a Senior Citizen."
"Oh? What's her name? I know everybody pretty well," said Fran McCormick.
"Well, her name is Gertru ... Gertrude Stein. But you wouldn't know her. She never goes out of her house except sometimes to take my little brother for a walk."
Everyone was listening. Even the card players had put their cards down, although the lady who had said "four spades" looked a little impatient. One of the Ping-Pong players suddenly hit the ball across the net, and it went
past the other player, who wasn't paying attention. "Hah! Gotcha!" said the man who had hit the ball, smugly. Then he turned, too, to listen to Anastasia, and the little plastic ball rolled into a corner of the room.
Well. With so many people watching her now, Anastasia began to feel as if she was making a speech. She had never liked making speeches. When they had to give oral reports in school, she had never once gotten a grade better than a B-minus, because she became nervous and said "ah" too often.
"Well, ah, let me start over," she said, when she realized so many people were listening. "My friend Gertrude Stein lives next door to me, and she's a Senior Citizen. But she's lonely. She eats all by herself, so she only eats TV dinners, and except for me and my little brother, she doesn't have anyone to talk to, although she's
interesting
to talk to, and, ah, her goldfish is getting fat because she feeds him too much, and she does it just because it makes her feel good to feed somebody, even if it's only a goldfish..."
For a moment, Anastasia felt as if that had been a stupid thing to say. But then she noticed that the Senior Citizens were nodding, as if they understood. Probably some of them had goldfish, too.
"Well, why don't you send her down here to us?" asked the man who had hit the Ping-Pong ball.
"She wouldn't come. She'd be scared. Maybe it sounds stupid to be scared when you're all grown up, and even
old,
but..."
But they interrupted her, murmuring to each other and
nodding again. They all seemed to understand about being scared, even if you were old.
"... and she pretends she's not scared, by being grouchy," Anastasia went on. They all nodded again.
"Let's send her an invitation to the square dance!" called out one of the card players.
"She'd throw it away. She'd say 'junk mail,' and throw it away," Anastasia explained.
"What do you suggest that we could do for her?" asked Fran McCormick.
"Well, since you're called a Drop-in Center," began Anastasia, "I thought maybe some of you could drop in on her. I could give you the address. It's not very far away."
But they all began shaking their heads.
"Not uninvited," said a tiny white-haired lady wearing a pink pants suit. "Really, that just isn't done. I wouldn't want anyone to drop in on
me
unexpectedly!"
The others agreed. Anastasia was surprised. She
liked
having unexpected guests. But apparently the Senior Citizens disagreed.
She thought for a minute. "Well then,
here's
an idea. Why don't you drop in on
me?
I live right next door. And you wouldn't be unexpected, because I'm inviting you. I'll make Kool-Aid and everything. And then..."
Some of them were beginning to nod their heads. "And then you invite
her
over!" said the man with no hair.
"Right! And you can all make friends with her!"
"I'd come," said the orange-haired woman.
"Me too," called out some others.
"When?" asked someone.
"Well," said Anastasia, "she's getting a permanent on Saturday morning. The first time she's been to a beauty parlor in maybe thirty years."
"Saturday afternoon, then!" announced the bald man. "How many people could make it Saturday afternoon?"
Hands shot up, and Fran McCormick counted. Fourteen.
Anastasia wrote down her address. A thought nudged itself into the back of her head.
"By any chance," she asked the Senior Citizens, "are any of you named Edward
Anastasia introduced herself, and Fran McCormick shook her hand.
"I have a friend," said Anastasia, "who is a Senior Citizen."
"Oh? What's her name? I know everybody pretty well," said Fran McCormick.
"Well, her name is Gertru ... Gertrude Stein. But you wouldn't know her. She never goes out of her house except sometimes to take my little brother for a walk."
Everyone was listening. Even the card players had put their cards down, although the lady who had said "four spades" looked a little impatient. One of the Ping-Pong players suddenly hit the ball across the net, and it went
past the other player, who wasn't paying attention. "Hah! Gotcha!" said the man who had hit the ball, smugly. Then he turned, too, to listen to Anastasia, and the little plastic ball rolled into a corner of the room.
Well. With so many people watching her now, Anastasia began to feel as if she was making a speech. She had never liked making speeches. When they had to give oral reports in school, she had never once gotten a grade better than a B-minus, because she became nervous and said "ah" too often.
"Well, ah, let me start over," she said, when she realized so many people were listening. "My friend Gertrude Stein lives next door to me, and she's a Senior Citizen. But she's lonely. She eats all by herself, so she only eats TV dinners, and except for me and my little brother, she doesn't have anyone to talk to, although she's
interesting
to talk to, and, ah, her goldfish is getting fat because she feeds him too much, and she does it just because it makes her feel good to feed somebody, even if it's only a goldfish..."
For a moment, Anastasia felt as if that had been a stupid thing to say. But then she noticed that the Senior Citizens were nodding, as if they understood. Probably some of them had goldfish, too.
"Well, why don't you send her down here to us?" asked the man who had hit the Ping-Pong ball.
"She wouldn't come. She'd be scared. Maybe it sounds stupid to be scared when you're all grown up, and even
old,
but..."
But they interrupted her, murmuring to each other and
nodding again. They all seemed to understand about being scared, even if you were old.
"... and she pretends she's not scared, by being grouchy," Anastasia went on. They all nodded again.
"Let's send her an invitation to the square dance!" called out one of the card players.
"She'd throw it away. She'd say 'junk mail,' and throw it away," Anastasia explained.
"What do you suggest that we could do for her?" asked Fran McCormick.
"Well, since you're called a Drop-in Center," began Anastasia, "I thought maybe some of you could drop in on her. I could give you the address. It's not very far away."
But they all began shaking their heads.
"Not uninvited," said a tiny white-haired lady wearing a pink pants suit. "Really, that just isn't done. I wouldn't want anyone to drop in on
me
unexpectedly!"
The others agreed. Anastasia was surprised. She
liked
having unexpected guests. But apparently the Senior Citizens disagreed.
She thought for a minute. "Well then,
here's
an idea. Why don't you drop in on
me?
I live right next door. And you wouldn't be unexpected, because I'm inviting you. I'll make Kool-Aid and everything. And then..."
Some of them were beginning to nod their heads. "And then you invite
her
over!" said the man with no hair.
"Right! And you can all make friends with her!"
"I'd come," said the orange-haired woman.
"Me too," called out some others.
"When?" asked someone.
"Well," said Anastasia, "she's getting a permanent on Saturday morning. The first time she's been to a beauty parlor in maybe thirty years."
"Saturday afternoon, then!" announced the bald man. "How many people could make it Saturday afternoon?"
Hands shot up, and Fran McCormick counted. Fourteen.
Anastasia wrote down her address. A thought nudged itself into the back of her head.
"By any chance," she asked the Senior Citizens, "are any of you named Edward
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