Journey to an 800 Number Read Online Free Page B

call “going-on-pretty.” Except for her eyes, which were hazel and as wide as the CBS eye, and they were already pretty. Maybe beautiful. And her nose and her mouth fit under her eyes just right, not too big, and not too small, just right. And they were pretty. So were her teeth and her smile, when she did. Her hair was brown and nothing to brag about. “Is your camel here?” she asked.
    “In the parking lot,” Father answered.
    “We’ll look for him on our way out,” Lilly answered. Then Lilly tugged at the top of her pants suit the way that Sabrina had tugged at her jersey. Lilly’s movemens were like an instant replay of Sabrina’s—exactly alike but a little slower. The two of them looked like Lilly and Lilliputian.
    I don’t look anything at all like my father. He is, as I said, swarthy with black curly hair; his eyes are the color of tobacco stains. I have straight light brown hair and blue eyes. My father is hairy; I am not; my father is heavy-boned; I am not. And I think I am going to be tall; my father is average.
    “When you’re in Dallas, why don’t you stop by the Mideast Airlines booth and say hello to us,” Father said.
    Sabrina said, “In case you hear anything about Renee, we’ll be staying at the Fairmont.” She smoothed the clipping about the two-faced cat over her pants leg and followed her mother to the cashier’s desk.
    Father turned and watched until they were all the way out the door.
    When we got back to the truck, I found a note on my side of the cab. It said, “I like your camel. Sincerely, Sabrina.” I folded it up and put it in my hip pocket. I said to my father, “I didn’t know you were hired by an airline.”
    “Ahmed was.”
    “How much are they paying you?”
    “Two-fifty a day. From nine to nine.”
    “Two-fifty? You make more with two kiddy rides.”
    “That’s two hundred and fifty,” Father said.
    “That’s profitable,” I said. “Have you ever been in Dallas before?” I asked.
    “Sure.”
    “Does it have one of those restaurants on top of a tall building?”
    “Probably does.”
    “Is the Fairmont a tall building?”
    “Pretty tall.”
    “Do you suppose it has a restaurant?”
    “Might have. We’ll plug into our trailer park and clean ourselves up and go on over.”
    “Do you have a jacket and a necktie?” I asked.
    “Somewhere I think I do.”
    “And I don’t think they require a hat,” I said.
    We had to tether and feed Ahmed before we went to the campground community showers to get a real good soaking shower. Father took time to trim the hairs in his nose and ears. We got to the Fairmont right around seven-thirty, which I thought was late for supper, but which seemed to be rush hour there. They had a restaurant, with linen napkins and candles on the lobby floor. The head waiter asked us if we had a reservation, and we said no, and he said that he was terribly sorry but that he couldn’t let us in. He mentioned that there was a convention oftravel agents headquartered there, and they were booked solid. He told us to try the coffee shop on the opposite side of the lobby.
    As we passed the hotel registration desk, I was wondering if I should mention to Father that maybe we ought to stop by to say hello to Sabrina and Lilly, but I didn’t say anything because the thought came to me that I didn’t know their last name, and I couldn’t tell anyone at the desk who it was I wanted to say hello to. I looked over at Father and thought that maybe it would be better if we went to some McDonald’s or some other place where a camel-keeper, even without a Pinocchio hat, looked more at home.
    As we approached the elevators, I saw one open, and who should get out but Sabrina? She looked as if she didn’t know whether or not to say hello. I thought that she didn’t recognize me in my blue blazer with the Fortnum School crest on the breast pocket. She looked different, too. Her hair was curled and she had on a long dress and on her—you should