house, because Julie lived near the entrance to the freeway. When she came out to the truck with Buzz, Jane saw that she was wearing high heels, which made her taller than Buzz, and that her hands did not look natural in her white gloves. She has the Minnie Mouse look too, thought Jane, and sheâs wearing a girdle because of her straight skirt. Poor Julie. Unaccustomed to her high heels, Julie turned her ankle, and Buzz caught her by the elbow.
Please, please, Julie, thought Jane, donât make fun of the truck. Donât embarrass Stan. Julie shot Jane a questioning glance. âHi, everybody,â was all she said, as she climbed into the back of the truck with Greg and Buzz. Jane relaxed. From now on,in spite of the truck, everything would be as wonderful as they had planned. Suddenly she was hungry, and she remembered that she had skipped lunch.
Jane felt excitement rising within her as the truck left Woodmont and climbed the approach to the bridge that crossed the bay. Through the sunset haze the city at the opposite end of the span looked unreal to Jane. It seemed like an imaginary city, a magic city, a city that appeared from the mists and might disappear if she closed her eyes for a moment.
âWhat shall we have to eat?â Buzz asked from the back of the truck. âSharkâs fins?â
âHow about carp?â suggested Greg.
Leave it to Buzz to mention food right away, thought Jane, remembering the times he had robbed her of her cooking samples in the seventh grade. Then it occurred to her that goldfish were a kind of carp, but she could not believe they would really have goldfish for dinner. She pictured a platter of fried goldfish garnished with lemon and parsley. It was not an appetizing thought.
âOr fried octopuses,â said Buzz.
âYou mean octopi,â corrected Marcy over her shoulder, and everyone laughed. Everyone butJane. She was beginning to remember reading that the Chinese ate some strange things.
âAnyway, donât you mean squid?â asked Marcy.
âDonât forget birdâs nest soup,â added Stan.
âUgh!â This was Julieâs first contribution to the conversation.
âItâs all right.â Greg was comforting. âThey donât use any old birdâs nest. They use special birdsâ nests.â
âHow about thousand-year-old eggs?â put in Buzz.
Jane, her appetite diminishing rapidly, suppressed a shudder.
âWhatâs the matter, Jane?â Buzz asked. âDonât you like eggs that are really ripe?â
âMake mine three-minute eggs,â answered Jane, who had made up her mind not to let Buzz tease her.
âBuzz, you mean hundred-year-old eggs,â corrected Julie. âAnd anyway, they arenât really a hundred years old. I had to read a book about China for a book report, and it said the eggs were really only about a hundred days old. They just call them hundred-year-old eggs. And they arenât rotten. They are salted or pickled or something. Anyway, the book said they are very good.â
Isnât that just dandy, thought Jane. Only a hundred days old.
âI know what,â said Buzz. âLetâs have flied lice.â
This was too much for Jane. âThey donât really eat lice, do they?â she cried in alarm.
Everyone shouted with laughter. ââThey donât really eat lice, do they?ââ mimicked Buzz, and they all laughed again.
âDonât pay any attention to him,â whispered Stan. âHe thinks heâs saying fried rice with a Chinese accent, but I have lots of Chinese friends in the city and I never heard anyone talk that way.â
âOh.â Jane felt the blood rush to her face. How could she be so stupid? Determined not to be laughed at again, she took a firm grip on her sophistication.
âWhich restaurant shall we go to?â Greg asked.
âHow about that one on the corner up over the
Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright