Anastasia on Her Own by Lois Lowry Page B

Ralph said, and hung up.
    Anastasia added a cup of wine to the pan the veal had cooked in; she swished it around with the remaining scraps of meat, and then added the mixture to the veal and onions, as the recipe instructed. Carefully she added the herbs, tomatoes, and a canful of chicken broth.
    "Now," she announced, "this is a hard part, coming up."
    "Me too," said Sam. "Now I do a giraffe." He turned a page in his coloring book.
    "I have to put this veal marrow—yuck; look at it—and the knucklebones into cheesecloth, and add them to the rest of the stuff. First I have to find the cheesecloth. Sam, do you know where the bandages are, the ones left over from your head last summer?"
    "On my bear," said Sam. "I made him into a mummy."
    "Oh, rats. Well, can I un-mummy your bear? I really need the bandages."
    "Sure," said Sam agreeably.
    Anastasia found Sam's teddy bear on the floor of his closet, wrapped from head to toe in gauze bandages. Only his ears stuck out. After she unwound him, she had several yards of narrow gauze. She took it back to the kitchen.
    "How on earth can I wrap these bones and stuff in this gauze? You could wrap a leg, or something, but how can you wrap a whole pile of stuff like this?"
    Sam shook his head. He didn't know, either.
    Anastasia stared at the yards of gauze, and the mound of bones and marrow. Not even an orthopedic surgeon would be able to do this, she thought. Defeat. Utter defeat. She had gotten this far in her very first gourmet dinner, and now she was defeated by a bandage.
    Finally she picked up the telephone book, leafed through the yellow pages until she found what she wanted, and dialed.
    "Good Times Dance Studio," the man's voice said.
    "I'm really sorry to bother you right in the middle of your tap dancing and all, Ralph," Anastasia said, "but you helped me with the corkscrew, so I thought maybe you could help me figure out how to wrap knucklebones in a long skinny bandage."
    The man was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Knucklebones ?"
    Anastasia explained. It took quite a long time to explain, but the man was very patient.
    "Geezum," he said finally, "I don't think that bandage is going to work. Lemme think. I'm thinking."
    Anastasia waited.
    "Pantyhose," he said finally. "Do you have pantyhose?"
    "Yeah."
    "Well, cut off one foot. Then you'll have like a little bag, see? And put your knucklebones and marrow into that. Then tie the top closed, with a shoelace or something. That ought to work."
    Anastasia pictured it. He was right. It should work. "
Thanks
" she said. "You've saved my gourmet dinner."
    "Well, listen, while I've got you on the phone again, how about saving my job by signing up for tap-dancing lessons?"
    "Sure," said Anastasia. "Sign me up. What the heck."
    She answered the questions he asked her, about her height and weight and shoe size and dancing experience. Then she hung up and went to find a pair of clean pantyhose.

    By the time Anastasia had constructed the pantyhose and shoelace bag, filled it with veal marrow and knucklebones, added that to the mixture on the stove, and turned the burner to simmer, the washing machine was silent.
    "Time to put the tablecloth in the dryer," she announced. She reached into the washing machine. "Hey, look, Sam! It really did turn purple!"
    Carefully she lifted the heavy, wet, purple tablecloth and transferred it to the dryer. She turned the dryer on.
    Then she looked down at herself. "Yuck," she said. "Good thing this is a grubby old shirt. I got purple dye streaked all over it."
    Sam looked over. "Your arms, too," he pointed out.
    Anastasia examined her stained arms and hands. She went to the sink and washed them, but the purple remained.
    "Saaaamm," she wailed. "It won't come off!"
    "Like my lines," Sam said. "My purple lines don't come off, either."
    Anastasia had become so accustomed to Sam's odd appearance that she had forgotten he was a road map of purple lines connecting his chicken pox spots.
    "Well, you're three