leaving its too-small, dusty old skin behind. She had seen such a skin once, empty and tattered, lying discarded and forgotten in the dirt.
She wondered idly if the snake felt the way kids must feel when they were dressed all in new clothes from the skin out. She thought she remembered Robin Randall dressing her up like that. There had even been a hat with flowers. Had it been for Easter, maybe? Min was no longer sure.
Maude had begun to purr like a buzz saw. Min blew gently on one of her ears and watched it flick. The purring went on, louder if anything. It was making her sleepy.
Then, all at once, the phone rang. Min jumped like a startled rabbit, making the cat break off her purring abruptly. Then she reached for the phone with an unsteady hand. “Hello,” she said, barely able to get the word out.
“What’s the matter with you?” Toby demanded. He did not wait for her to answer, for which Min was grateful. “I’ve got a ride for us with my cousin. I told her we wanted to go tobogganing. You said there was a big hill. We have to wait until next week, but that’s good, really. They’d notice if we took off so close to Christmas.”
“Right,” Min got out.
Talking on the phone was hard. Her throat kept squeezing the words until they were as thin as bits of thread. But he did not comment again.
“It’s okay with you then?” he asked.
“Okay,” Min said, feeling as if she were strangling.
“Hey, Min, you all right?”
“Sure. It’s great. See you,” she answered and hung up before he could ask her any more unanswerable questions.
Maude grunted and resettled herself with an annoyed switch of her tail. She clearly did not approve of people giving their attention to the telephone, when she was right there on top of them.
“Sorry, puss,” Min murmured.
The two of them curled up together in front of the TV and watched a DVD Jess had left there. It was a corny old Christmas movie. All the children were wide-eyed and incredibly sweet. People were slipping presents under the tree or busy wrapping gifts for Grandma. Older kids were out carol singing. Min glared at the screen and then froze.
Gifts!
She had totally forgotten gifts, and it was only two days until Christmas. Min knew, all at once, that Jess would give her presents. She did not know how she knew this, but she was suddenly positive. Maybe Toby would be made to do it too.
Could she … should she try to give something to them? What? In all her life, Min had never gone out and chosen a gift for someone and given it to the person. She had presented things that were given to her to give. “Here’s perfume you can give Enid,” Mrs. Willis had said. “I even had it gift-wrapped for you. But you have to sign the card.”
How she had resented signing that card with a kitten sitting in a basket decked with holly. Ugh!
They’d made stuff for their parents at school and Min had always thrown the ugly, lumpy things away in the first garbage can she came to on the way home. The grubby cloth pencil case, the toothbrush holder made of popsicle sticks, the drooping bean plant in its tiny pot, the incredibly ugly ashtray poster-painted a ghastly purple.
This year she had already pitched the knobbly candy dish she had fashioned in Art class. She would have been embarrassed to give it to anyone. If she’d spent time and thought on it, it might have been okay, but she had poked the clammy clay into a lopsided saucer shape and pressed in the coloured macaroni pieces around the edge as fast and furiously as she could. It was almost splendid in its ugliness.
“I can’t understand how a girl who draws as well as you do can produce something this ugly, Min,” the Art teacher had said, staring at the thing.
Min could have told her. She loved drawing, but she never took anything home. When what she made was supposed to be a gift or a Mother’s Day card, she tried to do her worst rather than her best.
Min had shaken her head and silently put the
She wondered idly if the snake felt the way kids must feel when they were dressed all in new clothes from the skin out. She thought she remembered Robin Randall dressing her up like that. There had even been a hat with flowers. Had it been for Easter, maybe? Min was no longer sure.
Maude had begun to purr like a buzz saw. Min blew gently on one of her ears and watched it flick. The purring went on, louder if anything. It was making her sleepy.
Then, all at once, the phone rang. Min jumped like a startled rabbit, making the cat break off her purring abruptly. Then she reached for the phone with an unsteady hand. “Hello,” she said, barely able to get the word out.
“What’s the matter with you?” Toby demanded. He did not wait for her to answer, for which Min was grateful. “I’ve got a ride for us with my cousin. I told her we wanted to go tobogganing. You said there was a big hill. We have to wait until next week, but that’s good, really. They’d notice if we took off so close to Christmas.”
“Right,” Min got out.
Talking on the phone was hard. Her throat kept squeezing the words until they were as thin as bits of thread. But he did not comment again.
“It’s okay with you then?” he asked.
“Okay,” Min said, feeling as if she were strangling.
“Hey, Min, you all right?”
“Sure. It’s great. See you,” she answered and hung up before he could ask her any more unanswerable questions.
Maude grunted and resettled herself with an annoyed switch of her tail. She clearly did not approve of people giving their attention to the telephone, when she was right there on top of them.
“Sorry, puss,” Min murmured.
The two of them curled up together in front of the TV and watched a DVD Jess had left there. It was a corny old Christmas movie. All the children were wide-eyed and incredibly sweet. People were slipping presents under the tree or busy wrapping gifts for Grandma. Older kids were out carol singing. Min glared at the screen and then froze.
Gifts!
She had totally forgotten gifts, and it was only two days until Christmas. Min knew, all at once, that Jess would give her presents. She did not know how she knew this, but she was suddenly positive. Maybe Toby would be made to do it too.
Could she … should she try to give something to them? What? In all her life, Min had never gone out and chosen a gift for someone and given it to the person. She had presented things that were given to her to give. “Here’s perfume you can give Enid,” Mrs. Willis had said. “I even had it gift-wrapped for you. But you have to sign the card.”
How she had resented signing that card with a kitten sitting in a basket decked with holly. Ugh!
They’d made stuff for their parents at school and Min had always thrown the ugly, lumpy things away in the first garbage can she came to on the way home. The grubby cloth pencil case, the toothbrush holder made of popsicle sticks, the drooping bean plant in its tiny pot, the incredibly ugly ashtray poster-painted a ghastly purple.
This year she had already pitched the knobbly candy dish she had fashioned in Art class. She would have been embarrassed to give it to anyone. If she’d spent time and thought on it, it might have been okay, but she had poked the clammy clay into a lopsided saucer shape and pressed in the coloured macaroni pieces around the edge as fast and furiously as she could. It was almost splendid in its ugliness.
“I can’t understand how a girl who draws as well as you do can produce something this ugly, Min,” the Art teacher had said, staring at the thing.
Min could have told her. She loved drawing, but she never took anything home. When what she made was supposed to be a gift or a Mother’s Day card, she tried to do her worst rather than her best.
Min had shaken her head and silently put the
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