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Dot put a black Jujy Fruit in each of Cassie's two ears when the movie finished. Cassie shook her head until they fell out, and ran up the aisle trying to punch her sister. The sun stormed in Cassie's eyes by the time she caught up with Dot. She managed a shove. Dot was nonplussed. They caught a bus down the boulevard and then walked ten blocks more. Their parents' tract house was yellow stucco and small. The tree in front was larger than a stick. The girls were not as rich as many of their friends. Money mattered. They could do nothing about it. Thus Cassie was finding life easier than Dot. Cassie was younger. Dot had social pressures.

"Do you take drugs?" Cassie asked as she swung open the front door.

"Not yet." Dot was free to answer. Both parents worked. The summer belonged to the girls. "I could, I suppose. Why?"

Cassie shrugged. She did not know why she had asked. Drugs weren't important. Dot claimed the phone and brought it into what had been the den and now was her bedroom. Cassie went to her room and lay on the bed. She thought about the angel. It meant nothing religious to her, although she knew Bible characters were visited by angels and could change their lives. She also knew that great and famous people got a calling early in life. Was it from angels? Maybe because her name was Cassie, any spat, any sibilance, any across-the-broom slur of s's could cause her ears to perk in ersatz recognition. Cassie lisped and knew those sounds scuttled from her mouth at whim. Probably another girl had lisped, across the theater.