[PSI-1]
Hyacinth felt someone yank on the side of her dress, which hadn’t happened since Erik was an excitable toddler. She didn’t think Lucy was quite at that size yet, nevertheless, when she turned around she looked down before she looked up.
Milo was holding a card at her eye level and appeared paler than usual. She read: Hyacinth, IS THIS TRUE?? and plucked it from his fingers to read the finer print.
Her expression screwed into a frown. “Milo, how… Why… You must…” She was crumpling the card. She read it again. “You never had a girlfriend before Calliope and she’s had Lucy or been pregnant with Lucy the whole time.”
Milo nodded.
“You’ve barely started having friends and Ann’s best friend who’s a girl is Cerise.”
He waggled a hand.
“Okay, yes, everyone is Ann’s best friend. But you know what I mean. Top level best friend.”
Milo bobbed his head from side to side. Yes-ish.
She held up the card. “What about Lola? Did Lola never mention this to you — why would Lola ever mention this to you?” she asked herself, answering herself. “It’s not like you’re shacked up together and running to the drugstore to buy her sanitary napkins and ice cream.”
Milo just stared at her.
“Napkins? Sanitary… Not like table napkins… I don’t know why the hell they’re called napkins anyway. Pads? Oh, my gods. This is because Lucy’s worked her way onto solids and Calliope’s having it now, right?”
Milo was still staring, with his default expression of mild concern.
“Okay, let me back up. Yes, it’s true.”
He staggered backwards and turned as if to run.
“Stop right there and don’t go bug Calliope about things you should already know or, gods forbid, make her draw them. She is going to be fine, she is fine, and I will explain this to you myself. Let me just go see if she’d like some paracetamol or help watching Lucy or a hot water bottle or something… You sit down, I will tell you how to take care of Calliope when I get back, then you can jump in.”
———
She noted the sound of violin practice behind the door of Room 102 on her way back to the kitchen with the baby and the spider highchair in tow. She knocked on the door and looked in. “Hey, Mordecai, you want me to teach Erik about girls getting their period?”
“What?” said the red man, faintly horrified.
“It’s just Milo has apparently missed this information while growing up, like dinosaurs, and I can get two birds with one stone here. Also Milo can’t really ask me questions, but Erik will.”
“Why on earth would he need to know something like that?”
“Because he’s a human being living on this planet with the rest of us, and maybe someday he’ll care about a girl who’s not colored? I mean, Maggie’s at least a friend. Do you want to wait until later and tell him yourself? I’m not totally sure you get it.”
“I don’t get why you’re made like that when obviously you don’t have to be!”
“What’re we talking about?” Erik said, closing the violin back in its case. He obviously intended to go learn whatever this was which was similar to dinosaurs and got such an offended reaction out of his uncle. Like, illegal dinosaurs, maybe?
Hyacinth regarded Mordecai, awaiting permission for once.
He sighed. “It’s a difference between colored girls and white girls. It’s science. But it’s a touchy subject and if Hyacinth wants to teach it for me, that’s fine. She must know more about it anyway, just let me know if she happens to veer into sex, drugs, or rock and roll — I have more experience with those things.”
“Only because he’s way older than me,” Hyacinth assured Erik.
She let him direct the Lu-ambulator into the kitchen and climbed the stairs. Hell, she might as well.
This time when she knocked on the door she waited for someone to open it from the inside, which Maggie did. “What’s up?”
Hyacinth spoke over the girl’s head, “Pardon me, General D’Iver, do you want me to teach Maggie about getting her period? It’s just…”
“Why would she do something so wasteful?” said the General.
“What?”
“Blood and human tissue can be used to power a transmutation,” Maggie piped up, in her clear lesson voice. She lowered it and spoke behind her hand to Hyacinth, “That’s one reason women are better at it than men.”
Hyacinth recoiled. “Oh, oh… Oh, geez. Couldn’t you… If you’re breaking it down for the energy, couldn’t you set yourself on fire doing that? Internally?”
The General turned a single page of the book in her lap. “No.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Man, Hyacinth, that is so basic. You think my mom would let me start changing myself before I quit blowing up the mice?”
Hyacinth frowned. “Where are you keeping these mice?”
“It was years ago, chill out.”
“That’s even worse. How many living creatures that are only trying to raise their tiny families in peace have you assassinated without my knowledge?”
That was enough to get the General to stand up and close her book. “Pardon me, Miss Hyacinth, but your only stated criteria for providing my tiny family housing was that we pay what we can and everything of ours that is metal is yours. If you wish to renegotiate, you may take it up with me. Do not snap at my daughter for breaking nonexistent rules.”
“All right. All right, all right.” Hyacinth covered her eyes with one hand and made a ‘cut it out’ gesture with the other. “Damn it. I’ve got half the men in the house waiting in the kitchen for me to explain why women are made like they are and how to be sensitive about it and I don’t have time for contract law. I just wanted to know if your daughter wanted to take advantage of an awkward lesson I have to teach anyway.” She turned to go.
“Hold, please,” said the General. She picked the watch out of the box with the kitten and checked the time. “As only fifteen minutes remain before Mr. Digby-Forsythe will require feeding in the kitchen you are using as a classroom, I recommend Magnificent accompany you anyway. A fraction of a lesson is always less useful than the whole thing, regardless of topic. Do you agree, Magnificent?”
“I would rather have a lesson in the kitchen where it’s warm and feed a cute kitten,” Maggie replied. “I think my agreement with the other thing is irrelevant.”
The General allowed this with a nod.
———
Hyacinth let Maggie sit at the table with the kitten box, which instantly diverted Erik’s attention and started an argument over who was going to give Mr. Digby-Forsythe his lunch. Lucy interjected her babbled, kitten-related opinion — probably suggesting they give him to her instead and let her chew on him a little. Milo remained sitting politely and looked disapproving at the others.
“I’d give you a gold star, but applying it would scare the hell out of you,” Hyacinth confided to him. “Flip that tray around so the baby has something quiet to do, huh? And you two, it’s still Maggie’s turn with the kitten and he doesn’t need anything yet. Let him hang out by the oven where it’s warm and get an education until the watch goes off. Okay.” She gave them a little while to arrange themselves. “Right. So, this whole mess is because our ape-like ancestors wanted to outbreed all the other apes in the forest. Somebody had to carry the kids and women drew the short straw in our species. Our bodies get ready to have a baby every month instead of once a year, and we haven’t worked out how to turn off this function when we don’t want a darn baby.”
Erik raised his hand, “Why don’t you use contraceptive charms?”
“I don’t because I don’t go out with boys,” Hyacinth replied. “And contraceptive charms don’t do anything to stop a woman’s period. They kill your sperm.”
Erik appeared uncomfortable with this information and opened his mouth.
Now Hyacinth raised her hand. “And that is not a big deal. A man’s body gets ready to give some poor woman a baby every day, because that’s much cheaper and easier. If he doesn’t try to do that, all his sperm die anyway, and if he does try to do that, they all die except one, if it’s lucky, or maybe a couple more make it through if this poor woman is going to have twins or triplets, but that’s all. Out of millions. Also, most of a woman’s eggs will die, even the ones that meet a sperm and could be a baby, but eggs are harder to make. A woman is born with all the eggs she’ll ever have, and her body kicks one or two out every month, until it doesn’t have any left and it quits. That also sucks for women, because it changes their whole body and that hurts. This thing where you start kicking out eggs also changes your whole body and hurts, so even if you’re going to get rid of the blood and tissue, that’s still going to suck for you, Maggie. Also, obviously, having a baby changes your whole body and hurts. Am I missing anything?”
“Blood and,” Erik began. Milo tapped him on the shoulder and made an urgent sign. “In a minute,” Erik said. “A girl’s body gets ready to have a baby with blood and tissues?”
“Tissue. That’s a nice way to say flesh. We’ve got a limited amount of materials to work with, a human body can’t make wallpaper and paint. A baby’s first home is built out of a woman’s insides, that’s why they look so terrifying when they come out. But if we don’t use this material to house a baby for nine months, our bodies throw it away and make new stuff so we can try again. And this does not start happening until our bodies are big enough to theoretically support a baby and we start to change for the first time. Which is right around your age, Maggie, so please be on the lookout and be prepared to have a nasty surprise in your underwear one of these days here.”
“Eh, Mom already taught me how to get bloodstains out,” she replied with a shrug.
Milo was trying to flag Erik down again. The green boy sighed. “Pick something to ask first and focus or I’m maybe gonna say something you won’t like.”
Milo shooed both hands at him.
Erik folded his arms with a frown. He spoke while glaring at Milo the whole time, “Milo thinks you’re not sensitive or delicate and you won’t care what he says, so it doesn’t matter. Milo thinks you’re like that song Calliope has about the woman who is also a brick house.”
Maggie burst out laughing and Lucy joined her.
Milo went pale and curled up in his chair with his hands over his face.
“I told you,” Erik said.
“Fortunately, I am mighty,” Hyacinth said dryly. She snickered and shook her head. “It’s all right, Milo. But if you want to have a relationship with Calliope or any other woman, you don’t treat her like a brick house.” He was already shaking his head, properly horrified. “And especially not when she’s having her period, because we’re all trained to woman up and keep going like normal, but it hurts. Sometimes more than others, but it does hurt.”
Milo stood up again.
Hyacinth pointed down at the chair. “Sit, because you need more context for Calliope. Being babied and patronized is also super annoying. It hurts, but it happens every damn month and by the time we hit Calliope’s age it’s ordinary and we’re sick of it. If you got kicked in the testicles every day for seven days every month since you were twelve you’d be used to it and sick of it too.”
Erik raised his hand. “Milo thinks he would die.”
Hyacinth sighed. “All right, so that’s why they don’t let men have babies…”
The watch went off. Maggie picked it up and poked it outside of the kitchen doorway so she could bring it back in and switch off the alarm. Then she collected the kitten.
Hyacinth was grateful for the opportunity to collect her thoughts. She wasn’t trying to do remedial sex education, she was trying to keep Milo from blowing up his relationship with Calliope again. He needed practical information. “Listen, Milo, this is a hard thing to deal with, for both of you. It’s icky and no fun but it’s also normal and natural, and it goes on way longer than other icky natural things like sneezing or peeing. The best thing you can do is listen and let Calliope tell you what she wants you to do. But that’s not going to work one-hundred-percent, because you’re her boyfriend and sometimes she’s going to want you to read her mind.”
Milo paled further and Erik beamed. “I’m the best boyfriend,” the eight-year-old declared.
Hyacinth waved both hands. “No, I don’t mean that literally, but maybe you are.”
Erik regarded Maggie smugly.
“What’re you looking at me for? Are you saying you’re a better boyfriend than me or advertising?”
His grin dried up and he shook his head rapidly. “Nuh… no!”
“What I mean is,” Hyacinth said, “she’s going to expect you to pay her enough attention all the time, so that when she needs something you can figure out what it is without her saying it. Ideally — and I’m not saying I’m like this, or unilaterally every woman, but I’ve dealt with enough women who are — you’re listening, agreeing with everything she says, and quietly gathering information on her needs for every waking moment, and when she falls asleep you do art tributes of her.” She sighed. “It’s such a pain in the ass. Sometimes I wish I liked men. They’re simple.”
Erik put his hand up again. “Milo says Calliope did art of him while he was asleep before.”
“I think that’s super creepy, but you guys can do what you want.”
Milo looked offended.
Hyacinth shrugged. “The thing is, she’s probably trying to keep tabs on you and give you what you want before you have to ask for it — I don’t know if that’s how women are wired or we just expect them to do that — so it would be nice if you try. All the time, but especially when she’s uncomfortable and annoyed with it. She will probably be patient and help you read her mind if she knows you’re trying.”
This time when Milo got up he didn’t give her a chance to stop him. He ducked out of the kitchen and she heard him going down the basement stairs.
“I don’t know if he’s checking to see if there’s any leftover pie to give her or about to design some kind of anti-period machine but I guess I can’t stop him either way.” She sighed again and turned back to Erik. “Is there anything else you and/or he wanted to know about?”
Erik was nodding. “Oh, yeah. A bunch. ‘Why’s it just called a period when it’s all bloody and it hurts? That sounds like nothing.’ ‘How did Calliope stop having one for so long? Is it because she’s so smart? Can’t she just keep doing that?’ ‘Why are the lady-diapers in the magazines and newspapers always soaking up blue stuff out of a test tube? That’s false advertising, women should sue.’ ‘Why can’t all women just be like Cerise?’ I want to know that last one too,” he added.
“Well, if all women were like Cerise we’d go extinct, but that’s rude of me to say,” Hyacinth said. “All women are different and Cerise happens to be different in a way that means she can’t have a baby like usual — but she didn’t ask to be made that way, so bringing it up is like teasing her. You shouldn’t.” She shook her head. “We’re talking science here and she’s not in the room, so it’s all right.”
“Pretty sure she doesn’t want a baby,” Erik said.
“Well, her and me both,” Hyacinth said. “But colored women, all colored women, don’t have periods. Which is why your uncle was a little confused I wanted to teach you this. He was being old fashioned and he caught himself. You’re not segregated and you might have any kind of girlfriend or friend-who-is-a-girl.”
“How does it work for colored women?” Maggie asked.
Hyacinth blew out a breath and lifted both hands helplessly, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Nina would get irritable right around the same time of the month as me, so I know there’s some kind of cycle going on in there, but not how or why. We also don’t know why women’s cycles sync up like that. This isn’t just because I’m a fake doctor, nobody knows. Medical science is infested with white men and they mainly study each other. You’re lucky they’re not still telling everyone women who do have periods are unclean and cursed. Well, most of them aren’t.”
Milo reappeared in the kitchen with the milk bottle and the pie tin. He pulled the chocolate syrup out of the pantry.
“Oh, thank gods,” Hyacinth said. “Okay. Milo? While you do that: We say ‘period’ because it happens periodically and people, even women, don’t like to say dramatic things about blood and pain in polite society. Again, women are used to this and most men don’t want to hear about it. Calliope stopped having periods because pregnancy and breastfeeding change a woman’s body so she can’t have another baby right away, but now Lucy is eating real food and Calliope is going back to business as usual. It’s nothing to do with being smart, that’s insulting. And I don’t know if it’s you or Erik, but they are not ‘lady-diapers,’ that is also insulting. Ads use blue liquid because anything else looks rude and people read newspapers and magazines with breakfast. And you should know darn well why all women can’t be like Cerise, but if you just mean colored women in general, I don’t know that and probably no one knows that because science is racist and sexist.” She paused. “Well, most people doing science are racist and sexist. Science is a process and if you don’t plug in the right questions, you won’t get the right answers. Got it?”
Milo looked vaguely concerned, but Hyacinth wasn’t sure if that was because she just answered all his embarrassing questions or because scientists were dumb, or just because he always looked that way.
“It’s all three, Auntie Hyacinth!” Erik called over.
“Your brain octopus is on fire this afternoon, kid. Hang on a sec and I’ll clear up anything that I didn’t actually say while you and Maggie play with the cat. Milo?” She touched his arm and got him to pause. “If she doesn’t want any of that stuff right now and she gets upset, that’s not either of your faults. She’s just a little less patient and resilient because she’s doing extra stuff, okay?”
He nodded.
“Okay. So, Erik, what horrors have I imparted?”
“What’s the thing about pooping?”
Hyacinth sighed. “I’m not sure if you’re gonna be the best boyfriend or the worst. Okay…”
Milo got out of there fast with the pie and chocolate milk.
———
Calliope was curled up on the bed with a novel and a box of chocolates. She looked up with a smile. “Aw, you got me chocolate milk.”
He nodded and set the tray on the bed.
“I’m really okay, you know?”
He nodded and signed: I UNDERSTAND.
“Okay.” She sighed and poked the pie with a fork. He hooked a finger over the edge of the plate and tugged it away experimentally. “No, I still like pie, I just…”
He was sitting there waiting for her to say more things and looking concerned.
She laid back on the bed and put her hands over her face. “I’m not contributing to this house like a real person.”
Oops, thought Milo. Time to do the listening so I can read Calliope’s mind later. Okay! He signed her a double thumbs up.
She frowned at him. “That’s not a happy thing I just said.”
He nodded. I’M SORRY. He dragged the rocker over and sat in it, facing her. He signed some more: YOU GIVE-ME-MORE TALK.
She grumbled. “Can I eat some pie, please?”
He nodded to that too and apologized again.
She sighed. “I’m sorry too. It’s not hormones, I haven’t felt good about this for a long time.”
He nodded, but this time he did not press her to talk more.
She had a bite of pie. “I’m used to a job. My mom has a job. My dad…” She looked pained, considering it. “He kinda has a job too. I didn’t think I’d ever just be working for fun like him, but that’s what this art show feels like, and I still really love him and know taking care of kids is hard, but it’s not like I have nine of them, but it’s not a competition…”
Milo continued to nod at regular intervals, doing his best to store this information away, but he was a little distracted planning what a pretty picture he’d draw of her after she fell asleep. Maybe he’d give her angel wings. Or some gears. Yeah.
———
Ann tapped on the door to Room 103. “Calliope? Sweetheart?” She opened it a crack and looked in. “Is it all right? Would you rather be alone? I can just sneak Lucy into the kitchen for a snack.”
Calliope smiled at her. “I want to be sneaked into the kitchen for a snack too. But what’s going on?”
“Nothing bad. Milo and I had an idea last night.”
“Just one?”
Ann laughed politely. “Well, you know how it is. But it’s complicated, the way you feel about things is complicated, so he asked me to help explain it.” She paused. “It’s both our idea, so if you don’t like it, it’s not just his fault.”
Now Calliope frowned. “Ann.”
Ann sighed. “It’s not a bad thing, but we really don’t want to step on your toes. Milo’s been worried about it all day. I’m overcorrecting and I’m sorry. It’s probably fine. I think you’ll have fun!”
“Have fun doing what?”
“Well, I think first I’ll make you and Lucy some afternoon tea, and if you feel like it, I have a quick art project for you. But only if you feel like it. I can explain without the art too, but I think once I start you might want to try it anyway, so I might as well let you go first.”
———
Calliope was disappointed Ann didn’t think glitter or stickers were necessary, but still curious. She sat at the kitchen table with her sketchbook and a pencil. “So what’re we doing?”
“Well, do you think you could draw me,” Ann leaned in with a huge smile, “but funny? Exaggerated features, a big nose and ears, but still so it looks like me? Milo and I have seen it but we’re not sure how hard it is. I can pose if you want while the water’s boiling!”
“I’ve drawn you a whole bunch, so I think I can get it, but I’m not sure about the funny part. We’re talking about how much distortion we can get and still make it look like you?”
“I think so?” Ann said. “Funny distortion. Not like somebody punched me in the face. Er, sorry.” Calliope had been slightly distorted after getting punched in the face, but that was very much an accident and not funny.
“Nah, I get ya. That does sound interesting.” She began to sketch.
“I’m right here if you need my pretty face!” Ann said brightly. She buttered the end of the bread before slicing so she wouldn’t tear holes in it, but she didn’t think cheese was warranted. They could have bread and butter, marmalade, and tea. She also did some apple chunks so Lucy had something she could pick up and feed herself. “How’s it go…”
Calliope growed at her and tipped up the sketchpad so she couldn’t see.
“Oh, that was rude of me. So sorry.” Ann sat at the table and ate a single slice of bread, quietly, while Lucy played with the apples.
“I don’t know,” Calliope said finally. “Does it really look like you or just the dress?”
“Ah. Oh.” Ann put a single finger on the paper and tipped the pad closer. “Er.”
Calliope had rendered her in the orange dress, obvious even in black and white because of the lace. She had a long, needle thin nose like a mosquito, elephant ears, and beaver teeth protruding from a huge grin. Her neck had a corkscrew bend in it which left her looking down at her own rear end. For good measure, her hands and high-heeled feet were wildly disproportionate, with each shoe the size of a scribbled pinprick and palms big enough to crush a man to death with applause. Also long wavy hair and makeup.
“I think I cheated,” Calliope said. “Should I try again and just do the face?”
“I’m not…” Ann pressed a hand to her mouth. “I know what I said, but I’m not sure I said what I meant. It doesn’t look like the others, but I don’t know if it’s supposed to…”
Mordecai entered the kitchen with a chiming watch and a kitten. The watch shut off and the kitten demanded to put on the counter where the milk bottle was, mewling and waggling its stubby legs.
“All right, Digby, but give me a chance to warm the damn, uh,” Mordecai regarded Lucy and Calliope, “the darn thing up first.”
Ann pointed the sketchpad in Mordecai’s direction, “Em would you pay money for something like this?”
“Is it a new pet?” Mordecai said, wincing.
“Aw, darn,” Calliope said.
“No, it’s me.”
Mordecai took the sketchpad. “Are you two having a fight?”
“It’s supposed to be like these funny pictures they have in this bar near the Slaughterhouse,” Ann said. “They’re of celebrities and things. But they’re all funny-looking with great big noses. They pay a person to draw them. We saw somebody with a sign up doing drawings like that at Papillon Island once. We thought Calliope could do that, maybe like you play on street-corners. Then she can have however much job she wants and contribute to the house, but still have time for Lucy. I think I messed up explaining it somehow.”
“Those are called caricatures, Ann,” Mordecai said. He dished out a little mincemeat on the counter to keep the kitten busy. “And while you weren’t paying attention to what they were called, you also missed that celebrity caricatures aren’t the same as the kind they sell on the pier. Celebrities don’t care about looking weird and ugly in cartoons, they’re already famous. Regular people are after a souvenir they can frame on the wall. Hang on, Calliope.” He put the pot on the stove to boil and sat down at the table with the kitten. “Draw me, but forget about exaggerated features. A big, simplified version of my head that you could make out from across the living room. Simplified in a way that flatters me, no imperfections. Smiling.”
“Oh, easy,” Calliope said. She sketched out a quick version of Mordecai’s uncharacteristically carefree head in about five minutes. “Like that?”
“Perfection. Now you say, ‘What’s your favorite thing to do on the beach, you handsome fellow?’”
Calliope snickered.
“And I say, ‘Play violin and get money from tourists.’ Ah.” He put up a hand and shook his head. “Too complicated for a proof of concept. I say, ‘Eat hot dogs.’ So you put a teeny little cartoon body under that great big blimp head in a beach outfit with a hot dog in its hand. Got it?”
“Sure.” That took maybe three minutes. It had a striped shirt and rolled up pants. She also politely put his dark shoes in his other hand, across from the hot dog.
Ann applauded. “That’s it!”
“Dit!” Lucy added.
“That is something people will buy off you on a street-corner,” Mordecai said. “If you bring some more pencils and offer to color it, they’ll pay extra. But what’s all this about contributing to the house? Calliope, you contribute plenty.”
Calliope blew her hair out of her face with a long sigh. “I know, but…”
Ann stopped her with a hand. “It’s complicated, Em. She still doesn’t know how she feels about it. She loves both her parents very much, but she always pictured herself more like her mom than her dad. She has been doing art the whole time and she’s about to sell some of it for money, but she’s very aware that one art show isn’t enough money to live on. In fact, having an art show makes her feel kind of silly. Like she’s just playing at being an artist. She misses having a job. But she also feels like going back to work isn’t being fair to Lucy, and maybe she’s a bad person for missing her job, or she doesn’t value what her dad did as much as her mom. She’s not even sure what job she could do and still take care of Lucy, even though she loves us and she knows we’ll take care of Lucy for her anytime she wants. She’s not sure what she wants, she just doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or be a bad mom.”
Calliope made a watery smile and rubbed her nose with her hand. “Aw, Ann. I kinda thought he was just nodding and thinking of shoes.”
“Well… To be perfectly honest he was thinking of drawing you while you slept, but he was trying to listen too, dear.”
She sat forward. “Where’s the drawing?”
“I’m sorry, dear. It was too dark and he was afraid to turn on the light and wake the baby.”
“Aw, darn.”
“If it’s a matter of self-worth, you certainly can pick up enough money to live on with something like this,” Mordecai said. “Especially since you live here. Or you can just do it for some spending money, or fun. When you work on street-corners you make your own hours.” He grinned. “You can even come with me if you like, but if you’re going to bring Lucy, put her in Ann’s shopping basket and leave that terrifying thing at home.” He indicated the spider highchair. “It’ll scare the tourists.”
Calliope sat forward again. “What, tonight? Can I go scare tourists with you tonight?”
“I was trying to ask you not to scare the tourists, but yes. If you want to.”
“Eee!” Calliope said.
“Eee!” Lucy replied.
Calliope stood. She scampered away, failed to clear the kitchen doorway and scampered back. “Wait, what do I need? Sketchpad, pencils, I have an easel. What else? A permit?”
Mordecai rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I’d say be prepared to pack up and run at any time, but they wouldn’t dare arrest you. You’d slip right out of the handcuffs.”
“Em,” Ann said.
“I promise, I will not let Calliope get arrested or mugged, Ann.”
“Mugged?”
“What else?” Calliope cried. “A sign, right? I need to make a sign! Otherwise I’m gonna be walking up to people and offering a hit of art like a drug dealer.” She snickered.
“Make sure it’s something attention-getting, Calliope,” Mordecai said. “You won’t be making noises like me. You were in advertising, so you know…”
“Advertising!” Calliope clapped her hands. “I know what to do! Oh.” She caught herself and paused in the doorway. “Em, is Erik home? Can I steal some of his stuff?”
“Are you after his crayons, Calliope?”
“No.” She grinned. “Does he have any makeup left?”
———
The makeup was a series of mismatched, mostly-empty tubes which Eglantine had swept into a paper bag during their tour of the Slaughterhouse. The director-lady said makeup was expensive, and Eggs got annoyed. She gave them everything that she was almost out of, claiming it was going to dry out soon. It hadn’t yet. Erik still played with it sometimes, but he had run out of all the colors he liked.
The bag was in the closet. While she was in there she also stole his bowler hat with the paper daisy. She took everything into her bedroom and used the hand mirror she kept for helping her draw facial expressions.
“What do you think? You guys! Advertising!”
Calliope had given herself a dot of glitter pink rouge on each cheek and one at the end of her nose, two big white eyes and a pink and white smile. She was wearing Erik’s hat with one of her paint-stained art shirts, suspenders, and a pair of old pants with rolled, fraying hems at the bottom. Her ballerina flats looked almost as tiny as Ann’s cartoon feet.
“Portraits by Calliope the Clown!”
“Oh, gods, tourists would crawl over broken glass to give money to that,” Mordecai said. “It’s perfect.”
“Marshmallow the Clown,” Ann suggested.
Mordecai appeared to be in physical pain. “That’s perfecter.”
“I need a goofy bicycle horn!” Calliope tore up the stairs and opened the door to Room 103. “Glorie! Do you have a goofy bicycle horn?”
Ann twitched. “Oh, dear. If she wants to make props, I’d better get changed.”
“You may have created a monster, you two,” Mordecai said.
Ann turned up her nose. “Calliope can create herself. Milo and I are pleased to have given her a little support. But you really must excuse me because Milo wants to try building a bicycle horn that also kills muggers and I don’t.”
She swept up the stairs.
Mordecai held up the kitten. “Digby, one thing you have to get straight in your fuzzy little head is that everyone who lives here is insane. Okay?”
“Mew.”
“Absolutely. Let’s go get your bottle.”