|
Page 359:
"They're true."
She drew a compact from her purse, checked her face in the mirror, tamped her hair, put on a pair of sunglasses. "Mrs. D. had this routine she'd go through. When we goofed off during rehearsal, which was often, and she lost her patience but was trying not to show it because she wanted to be one of the gang. Like Mama Cowsill or Shirley Jones."
"Cool mom," I said.
"As if that's ever posibble ... anyway, what she'd do is start ......
|
