Mulch ado about nothing

armchair and said, “Oh, Mom,“ in a highly critical tone.
    “Couldn’t I?“
    “Mom, they’re for your cast. Nobody has a boring cast. You have to have your friends sign it, and if you know an artist, you ask him to draw or paint a picture on it. And even if you don’t, you put stickers on it. “ She’d temporarily lost her fake accent. “One guy at school with a broken arm had a really cool one. His mother wove ribbons like a plaid design on his and stuck them down somehow. So when do you get it off?“
    “Before it gets really filthy, I hope. The doctor didn’t say. Just that I had to come back in two weeks to have it X-rayed again.“
    “Cool. They’ll have to cut it with a saw to do that,“ Katie said. “Can I come along?“
    “My leg or the cast? A real saw?“
    “ I do not know, ma mère. I’ll ask my friend.”
    Katie had spent the first two weeks of summer vacation in France with her best friend, Jenny, and Jenny’s parents, who had begged to have Katie along so Jenny wouldn’t be bored with the sightseeing they planned to do. Jane had been more than glad to spring for the plane fare to get Katie out of her hair for part of the summer. Katie’d made no effort to get a summer job, not even at her usual summer haunt, the town swimming pool. Something about the chlorine ruining her hair. Even before the trip idea came up, Jane had dreaded having her underfoot and at loose ends for the whole three months.
    The trip hadn’t quite turned out as Jane imagined. Katie had fallen in love with all things French. The French were “civilized“ and ate dinner at ten at night. She’d been saving up the dinners Jane made to warm back up and eat just before she went to bed. She wanted her mother to study wine sauces and get some good veal. Quite a change from her earlier views of meat, and veal in particular.
    “Katie, you’re going to have to take over some of the cooking for us,“ Jane said. “It’s too hard for me to get around the kitchen right now. But no veal. Why don’t we make up some menus? It’s time you learned how to cook.“
    “What about Mike? He’s older than I am. Make him learn to cook.“
    “He doesn’t care what he eats.”
    The kitchen door had opened and closed while they were discussing this. “Are you talking about me?“ Mike said, coming in the living room with a girl in tow. “Mom, this is Kipsy Topper. We met today at the garden place where I’m working for the summer.”
    Jane had to make a serious effort to keep her jaw from dropping. Kipsy Topper, if that was really her name, which Jane was certain it wasn’t, was the last thing she’d ever expected Mike to bring home. She had flame-colored hair. Or maybe it was a wig. Sort of like a big Raggedy Ann doll. Her eyebrows and nose were pierced and she was wearing what looked like a very flimsy slip over baggy jeans. There was a snake tattoo on her skinny shoulder. She could have been fourteen or twenty-four. Either way, too young or too old for Mike. And much too bizarre. He’d always gone for the blond cheerleader types.
    “Kipsy... “ Jane said, gulped, and went on, “how nice to meet you.”
    She was looking at Mike as she spoke. He was smiling blandly.
    “If you’re talking about food,“ he said, “Kipsy and I are going to a Thai restaurant this evening where she works part-time. She was buying plants for the owner to decorate the place. They’re in my truck. We’re taking them over now. Be back late probably.”
    Jane sat thunderstruck as Mike whisked Kipsy out of the house.
    “Wow!“ Katie said.
    “Is that a good wow or a bad one?“ Jane asked.
    “Mom,“ Katie said critically, “you can’t go on judging people by how they look. That’s so frumpy and it’s bigoted besides.“
    “I certainly can judge people when they make an effort to look like freaks,“ Jane said. “That says something about their personality.”
    Katie couldn’t answer this, so she just sniffed with contempt and said, “I thought she looked cool. I might do that to my hair.“
    “Over my dead body,“ Jane said. “Or yours. I’ll let you drive us to the grocery store on your learner’s permit if you promise not to scare me.“
    “I think Mike has gone over the edge,“ Jane said to Shelley later. “You should have seen this girl.“
    “I did,“ Shelley said. “Through my kitchen window as they came in your house. I wanted to go find my Denise and lock her in a closet until she’s twenty-five. Maybe