Part 94 (1/2)

Marianne narrowed her eyes as she tapped her foot along with her latest

Billy Joel alb.u.m. She was convinced he was right. Catholic girls did

start much too late.

”Emma, you've had that ice on your ears for twenty minutes. You should

have frostbite by now.”

Ice was melting cold down her wrists, but she kept it firmly against her

ears. ”Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

”Of course I do.” Marianne's hips swayed in her prim cotton nightgown as

she walked to the mirror. There, she admired the little gold b.a.l.l.s in

her newly pierced ears. ”I watched every move my cousin made when she

did mine.” She switched to an exaggerated German accent. ”Und ve have

all de instruments. Ice, needle.” Gleefully she held it up so it

glinted in the lamplight. ”The potato we ripped off from the kitchen.

'lWo quick jabs and your dull, dreary ears become sophisticated.”

Emma kept her eye on the needle. She was searching for a way out, ears

and pride intact. ”I never asked Dad if it was all right.”

”Jesus, Emma, ear piercing's a personal choice. You've got your

period, you've got your b.o.o.bs-such as they are,” she added with a grin.

”That makes you a woman.”

She wasn't sure she wanted to be a woman if it meant having her best

friend stick a needle in her earlobe. ”I don't have any earrings.”

”I told you, you can borrow some of mine. I've got scads. Come on,

let's see that British stiff upper lip.”

”Right.” Having a deep breath, Emma took the ice from one ear. ”Don't

screw up.”

”Me?” Marianne knelt by the chair to draw a tiny x on Emma's earlobe