“This,” she was thinking, “is all Irene would have to say. ‘I use it.’ Three little words, but they’re not true. Irene doesn’t use it. Maybe she should. Her hair is dull and drab. Why am I thinking that?” Judy asked herself. “It’s my hair that’s dull and drab.”
“Yours?” Florence asked. Judy had not realized she was speaking her thoughts aloud. Florence went on, “That’s funny, Judy. You wouldn’t want your hair any brighter than it is.”
“No,” Judy admitted, “I guess I wouldn’t. I always thought it was too bright before. I don’t know why I said that.”
“I do,” Clarissa spoke up. “You read my thoughts. I was just thinking my hair is dull. I could be beautiful if I didn’t have this drab, dull hair. It was lighter when I was small. It was really golden then. But all at once it began to get darker. I changed in other ways, too. Mother says I must be a changeling—”
“Changelings aren’t real,” Pauline stopped her. “They’re what witches were supposed to leave when they snatched real children.”
“There’s a witch in Sleeping Beauty,” Flo put in. “Irene says her dance is the best thing in the whole show. This tour is nothing compared to what we’ll see tonight, but it will kill time until seven o’clock.”
“You mean six-thirty,” Judy corrected her. “We have to be at the studio half an hour before the show begins, and I would like to be there even earlier than that so Irene can explain things. There’s so much I don’t know.”
The guide, overhearing Judy’s remark, smiled and said, “So you’re going to visit the Golden Girl show?”
“It’s treason,” Pauline whispered. “Irene’s show is on another channel. So is Teen Time Party. One of the tourists must have turned it on.”
It was off now. In its place a gay crowd of young people were singing the praises of a popular cigarette.