In the mirror behind the buffet, Ditzy compared Atossa to herself: tall to short, black round eyes to blue slant eyes, wavy black hair to straight black hair, Irish green scarf to Buddhist orange scarf, both looking like nuns.
“You look like an Irish Catholic nun,” Ditzy said to Atossa.
“Maybe Saint Patrick was a Muslim,” Atossa said. “You look like a blue-eyed Pocahontas.”
“I can’t imagine Pocahontas looking like a nun,” Ditzy said, “at least not until she moved to Europe.”
The two friends sat at the dining room table and looked at the stack of books. They opened their binder reminders.
“Have you finished Lupita Mañana?” Ditzy asked.
“Yes,” Atossa said. “I like the part where she wears the pretty dress to the party. She can have legs and arms and breasts.”
Ditzy agreed. Watching the boys salivate over a pretty dress could be the most fun part of a party. “Or,” she said, “Like the countess in War and Peace.”
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