Three Sisters by Norma Fox Mazer Page A

little dance. “Do you think we’ve waited long enough?” Her hair was loose; she was wearing a pale green dress. She looked like a sea goddess, all green and gold and dappled.
    Karen cast a sidelong glance at Liz. She hadn’t forgotten that sister-skunk look Liz had shot at her last week. As soon as Tobi showed up, Karen decided, she’d give up the front seat. For once she wouldn’t mind sitting in back and letting Liz and Tobi have each other all to themselves.
    “Let’s wait five more minutes,” she said, craning her neck out the car window. Had Tobi forgotten that they were all supposed to meet their parents at the New India Restaurant for dinner? A double celebration: Karen’s father’s birthday and her parents’ anniversary.
    “I say, let’s go,” Liz said. She hated being late for anything. She backed out of the driveway.
    Since that afternoon last week in Scott’s apartment, she and Liz had not been alone together. And now here they were, in about as cramped quarters as you could get, stuck together in Liz’s little VW bug. Karen wriggled uncomfortably in the seat. One way or another, she realized, she had managed to avoid close contact with her sister for days. That was odd! She’d been acting guilty. But of what? And why? She hadn’t done anything—as long as you didn’t count thoughts.
    They drove in silence. The restaurant was north of the city, all the way out on Route 11. “What a funny place for a restaurant,” Karen said finally. “Far far out in the boo-boo-booonies.”
    Liz smiled faintly. Karen smoothed her skirt, checked her fingernails. Her hair was up again. Twisting the clip through it, she remembered Scott’s saying, You’re all dressed up! He was coming to dinner, too. Don’t think about him. An impossible command.
    “It’s a new restaurant,” Liz said. “Somebody, one of Scott’s customers, mentioned it to him.”
    Why had Liz said Scott in that odd tone of voice? Or had she sounded perfectly normal? Put those questions in the paranoia question box.
    Sometimes Karen couldn’t tell what Liz was thinking. Correction. Most times. Liz was beautiful like cool dappled water and that was what you saw, not the bottom, not the sandy, gritty, stony, rough stuff. Which was probably why that sister-skunk look on her face had impressed itself so on Karen. Now Tobi—she showed everything on her face. You always knew if she was mad, sad, glad, whatever.
    As for her, Karen, what was it Marisa had said
    to her once? “Karen, give yourself a rest. You think too much about every little thing. With you, everything is chewed up.”
    “Like dog biscuit,” she’d agreed.
    Why couldn’t she accept things? Let them happen, let them be whatever they were going to be. What was it that old Beatles song Tobi liked so much said? Let it be, let it be. For instance, in a little while she’d see Scott. That was nice. No reason to fall apart. She could handle it. A smile. A few words. Hello, Scott. Nice to see you. Six easy words. After that, relax, lean back, don’t say anything. Silence was admirable. Scott would notice how quiet and thoughtful she was, he’d look at her, that quiet, sympathetic look as if the two of them were completely in accord… .
    She jerked upright. She was doing it again … fading out, falling into a satisfying fantasy about Scott, and with Liz right next to her. Had Liz just said something? She glanced at her sister. Some people were supposed to be super sensitive to thoughts. They could tune in. What if Liz were one of those? What if she was tuned in to everything Karen thought? Or, more to the point, tuned in to everything Karen thought about Scott?
    What she had to do, Karen told herself, was concentrate on something else, put Scott right out of her mind. Watch the white line in the road. Notice the color of those reddish bushes in the ditch. How about that faded sign they’d just passed in front of a farmhouse? PIK UR OWN STRAWBERIES. In April? Those people