outfit now. It'll look great with that red hair."
When she had finished with Bambie, she selected Robert and stood beside him.
"Now Robert, too, has to work on his weight a bit," she said. "But he has—"
Robert interrupted. "I'm expecting my growth spurt any time now," he said. "And I'll thin out then. My pediatrician told my mother I would."
Anastasia poked Henry and they both tightened their mouths to restrain their laughter.
"Great," Sarah Silverman said. "And in the meantime, Robert, you still have lovely dark hair and that wonderful, clear olive skin. Let's see how you'll look in some really smashing sportswear."
Uncle Charley led Robert off to the dressing room. Anastasia was in the middle of a yawn when he returned, and she almost choked when her yawn turned into a gasp. Robert Giannini in designer jeans, an enormous red and yellow plaid shirt with huge shoulder pads, and a golf hat: it was the most astounding thing she'd ever seen.
Henry put two fingers into her mouth and gave a piercing whistle. Robert blushed, grinned, and attempted once again to do a cheetah-like walk.
Anastasia found herself hoping, for Robert's sake, that even with the 10 percent discount he couldn't afford to
buy
that outfit. It did look somewhat sensational here in the privacy of Studio Charmante. But if Robert Giannini showed up in his seventh-grade classroom wearing designer sportswear with giant shoulder pads—well, Anastasia shuddered to think what might happen.
Robert clumped about, preening, and then he said to Sarah Silverman, "What's your opinion of a
Miami Vice
look, for someone who doesn't yet have chest hair?"
Bambie was admiring her own fingernails. Helen Margaret was looking at the floor. Henry hooted loudly and grinned. But Anastasia wanted to die. It would be bad enough to hear a zoo keeper, talking about gorillas, mention chest hair, which was certainly one of the grossest things in the whole world. To hear Robert Giannini talk about chest hair was absolutely unbearable. Anastasia looked at the ceiling and tried to think about some subject that wouldn't have anything to do with chest hair.
Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.
She thought about Mr.
Rogers' Neighborhood
as hard as she could so that she couldn't hear Sarah Silverman talking to Robert.
Finally Robert was back in his seat, wearing his own Giannini-style clothes again. In an odd way, it was reassuring to see him looking normal—even if normal meant dressed like a wimp.
"Now," Sarah Silverman said, looking around, "Helen Margaret."
Helen Margaret had been sitting silently as Bambie and Robert modeled their clothes. But now she ducked her head, wrapped her arms around herself as if for protection, and whispered, "I don't want to."
"It's fun," Bambie said. "Come on. She has a gorgeous dress hanging in there, just your size."
Helen Margaret shook her head back and forth. "No," she whimpered.
Robert turned to her. "I know how you feel," he said, "because I really felt like a jerk standing there with everyone looking at me. But you just have to laugh at yourself. It really is fun. Come on."
Everyone in the room said encouraging things until finally, reluctantly, Helen Margaret stood up. She looked terrified. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes were on the floor.
"You're a
very
pretty girl," Sarah Silverman said in a kind voice. "And Bambie was right, that I have a gorgeous dress intended for you. Aunt Vera described each of you to me, and now that I see you, I know I've chosen just the right clothes."
Helen Margaret looked up at last. She stood woodenly, with a frightened expression, while Sarah Silverman analyzed her appearance.
"Helen Margaret is so tiny, so fragile," she said, "that one of those big shirts or sweaters would overwhelm her. So I've chosen pastel colors and fine, delicate fabrics for her. Aunt Vera, could you take her in and help her with that pale blue dress?"
Aunt Vera took Helen Margaret by the hand and led her to the dressing room.
"When she
When she had finished with Bambie, she selected Robert and stood beside him.
"Now Robert, too, has to work on his weight a bit," she said. "But he has—"
Robert interrupted. "I'm expecting my growth spurt any time now," he said. "And I'll thin out then. My pediatrician told my mother I would."
Anastasia poked Henry and they both tightened their mouths to restrain their laughter.
"Great," Sarah Silverman said. "And in the meantime, Robert, you still have lovely dark hair and that wonderful, clear olive skin. Let's see how you'll look in some really smashing sportswear."
Uncle Charley led Robert off to the dressing room. Anastasia was in the middle of a yawn when he returned, and she almost choked when her yawn turned into a gasp. Robert Giannini in designer jeans, an enormous red and yellow plaid shirt with huge shoulder pads, and a golf hat: it was the most astounding thing she'd ever seen.
Henry put two fingers into her mouth and gave a piercing whistle. Robert blushed, grinned, and attempted once again to do a cheetah-like walk.
Anastasia found herself hoping, for Robert's sake, that even with the 10 percent discount he couldn't afford to
buy
that outfit. It did look somewhat sensational here in the privacy of Studio Charmante. But if Robert Giannini showed up in his seventh-grade classroom wearing designer sportswear with giant shoulder pads—well, Anastasia shuddered to think what might happen.
Robert clumped about, preening, and then he said to Sarah Silverman, "What's your opinion of a
Miami Vice
look, for someone who doesn't yet have chest hair?"
Bambie was admiring her own fingernails. Helen Margaret was looking at the floor. Henry hooted loudly and grinned. But Anastasia wanted to die. It would be bad enough to hear a zoo keeper, talking about gorillas, mention chest hair, which was certainly one of the grossest things in the whole world. To hear Robert Giannini talk about chest hair was absolutely unbearable. Anastasia looked at the ceiling and tried to think about some subject that wouldn't have anything to do with chest hair.
Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.
She thought about Mr.
Rogers' Neighborhood
as hard as she could so that she couldn't hear Sarah Silverman talking to Robert.
Finally Robert was back in his seat, wearing his own Giannini-style clothes again. In an odd way, it was reassuring to see him looking normal—even if normal meant dressed like a wimp.
"Now," Sarah Silverman said, looking around, "Helen Margaret."
Helen Margaret had been sitting silently as Bambie and Robert modeled their clothes. But now she ducked her head, wrapped her arms around herself as if for protection, and whispered, "I don't want to."
"It's fun," Bambie said. "Come on. She has a gorgeous dress hanging in there, just your size."
Helen Margaret shook her head back and forth. "No," she whimpered.
Robert turned to her. "I know how you feel," he said, "because I really felt like a jerk standing there with everyone looking at me. But you just have to laugh at yourself. It really is fun. Come on."
Everyone in the room said encouraging things until finally, reluctantly, Helen Margaret stood up. She looked terrified. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes were on the floor.
"You're a
very
pretty girl," Sarah Silverman said in a kind voice. "And Bambie was right, that I have a gorgeous dress intended for you. Aunt Vera described each of you to me, and now that I see you, I know I've chosen just the right clothes."
Helen Margaret looked up at last. She stood woodenly, with a frightened expression, while Sarah Silverman analyzed her appearance.
"Helen Margaret is so tiny, so fragile," she said, "that one of those big shirts or sweaters would overwhelm her. So I've chosen pastel colors and fine, delicate fabrics for her. Aunt Vera, could you take her in and help her with that pale blue dress?"
Aunt Vera took Helen Margaret by the hand and led her to the dressing room.
"When she
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