Mavis hopped on one foot around the bus station, careful to only land on the black squares of the linoleum floor. If she touched a white square, something bad would happen, like maybe she would lose that heart-shaped good-luck rock she had found in their yard in Georgia, or her dad would change his mind about letting her spend Christmas with him in Tennessee.
“You’re giving me a headache,” her mother said, closing her eyes and massaging her temples.
“When are they getting here?” Mavis asked, hopping over to the window and peering into the empty parking lot.
Her mother rummaged through her purse and pulled out another pack of gum. She had been chewing gum constantly for the last three days. Mavis knew that what she really wanted was a cigarette, but Mrs. Tully had been very clear about the no-smoking rule.
“Highfalutin people don’t care if they’re late,” her mother said.
“How do you know they’re highfalutin?” Mavis asked.
Her mother popped a piece of gum into her mouth and said, “Believe me, I know.”
“So why do you want to work for highfalutin people?” Mavis said.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Miss May May,” her mother said, “it takes money to get anywhere in this world. If highfalutin people want to give me money for the pleasure of changing their sheets when they’re not even dirty or serving them sliced cantaloupe on china plates, I’m willing to give it a shot.”
Uh-oh. Give it a shot? That had a temporary ring to it. Mavis had hoped that maybe this move to Alabama would be permanent. Or at least till she finished fifth grade. So Mavis decided that she would have to make Rose her best friend right away.
Just then, a shiny black car turned into the parking lot. A lady and a girl got out and walked toward the station. The lady wore a flowered skirt and a ruffly white blouse. Tucked under her arm was a tiny purse the same color as her shoes.
Mavis was surprised to see that the girl wore a skirt, too. Why would a kid wear a skirt in the summertime? The girl’s mousy brown hair was pulled neatly into a ponytail tied with a purple ribbon. Mavis’s mother had said the girl was the same age as she was, but this girl looked younger, short and skinny and practically running to keep up with her mother, who marched across the parking lot toward the door of the bus station.
Mavis’s mother quickly took the gum out of her mouth and stuck it under one of the plastic seats in the station. She smoothed her hair and brushed doughnut crumbs off her shorts and reminded Mavis for the gazillionth time to say “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am.” Then she set a smile on her face and called out, “Mrs. Tully! Over here!”
Mavis watched that highfalutin woman make her way toward them, and it didn’t take a genius to see that she was disappointed. Maybe it was her mother’s shorts that might have been a little too short. Maybe it was Mavis’s wild tangle of hair that hadn’t seen a comb since they’d left Hadley yesterday afternoon. Or maybe it was the smell of greasy food and bus fumes that swirled around the dreary bus station.
But whatever it was, it was clear that Mrs. Tully was struggling to make her mouth smile as her eyes darted from Mavis to her mother to the battered suitcases at their feet.