The Class Menagerie

term paper and blackmailed Jane into being her go-between. Jane’s father had caught her slinking out of the house with the cash wadded in her fist. If she recalled correctly, as she was certain she did, Jane herself had gotten the entire blame for the episode.

- 4 -

    The next one Jane was to meet didn’t have half the exuberance of Crispy. Avalon Smith looked like a well-preserved “flower child“ with the careless wad of burgundy-red hair, freshly scrubbed, makeup-free face, and layers of droopy, no-special-color clothing. She had a long brown scarf flung around her neck, and an equally nondescript necklace made of wood and bits of something that looked like varnished dirt clods.
    “I’m Avalon Smith,“ she almost whispered to Jane, as if admitting to a rather embarrassing secret.
    Jane introduced herself. “If you want to get your bags and come back here, I’ll fetch you when I’ve met one more person.“
    “I just have this,“ Avalon said, indicating a big, squashy tapestry bag that had been indistinguishable from her garb.
    “Then come along.“
    Avalon trailed along as obediently as an eccentrically clad carnival pony. “Did you have a good flight?“ Jane asked.
    “Oh, yes.“
    That was it. Jane waited for polite elaboration, but there wasn’t any. “Where did you come from?“ Jane asked, feeling obligated to make conversation.
    “Arkansas.“
    Jane wanted to grab Avalon’s arm (if she could find it in all that organic clothing) and say, “Look at me when you talk!“ but she didn’t.
    They settled themselves at the last gate and Jane looked desperately at her watch. Only ten minutes to wait. Unless—-God Forbid!—the plane was late! “So... are you excited about seeing all your old friends from school?“ Jane asked.
    Avalon thought hard. “I guess so.“
    Jane was spared any further attempts at chitchat by Crispy’s arrival. This amazing woman had managed to snag one of the overgrown go-carts that ferry infirm passengers around. It was piled high with a half dozen pieces of matched luggage that looked like they were made of periwinkle blue suede. Jane had never seen anything like it outside of an expensive catalog display. The cart was driven by a good-looking young man who was smiling as if he’d been given a stupendous tip. “I’ve twisted my ankle, haven’t I, Derek?“ Crispy said, grinning.
    Then she spotted Avalon and leaped off the cart. “Avalon Delvecchio! Imagine! After all these years!“ She enveloped Avalon, limp as a rag doll, in a fierce embrace.
    “I’m sorry—I don’t—“ Avalon mumbled.
    “You don’t know who I am, do you, dear!“ Crispy crowed. She glanced at Jane for confirmation, then back to Avalon. “It’s me. Crispy.“
    “Crispy! It can’t be. You’re so—“ She stopped, appalled at what she’d been about to say.
    Crispy said it for her. “Thin, pretty, rich? Isn’t it amazing?“ She whirled around to let Avalon get a better look, then explained to Jane. “I was the fat, pimpled slob with the nibbled nails and terrible hair. Isn’t it amazing what marrying three or four rich men can do for a girl?“
    “You’ve been married that many times?“ Avalon asked.
    “Oh, at least. That was just the rich ones. My darling Avalon, I’d have known you anywhere. You look exactly the same. You must have a gallon of formaldehyde for breakfast every day. What’s your name now?“
    “Smith,“ Avalon said, still in shock and acting like she wasn’t sure she believed this was who she said she was.
    “What a pity. Still, we can’t have everything. Why, I married Landsdale Brooke-Trevor just for his name and he turned out to be an impotent pansy. You see what I mean?“
    “I—I think so.“
    “Who are we waiting for?“ Crispy said to Jane.
    “Oh, the plane’s here, isn’t it!“ Jane said with surprise and hastily scrambled to find her placard. “This flight is Lila Switzer.“
    “Dear Delilah...“ Crispy cooed maliciously. “No, don’t hold that thing up. I’ll know her, but she won’t know me.“
    Crispy watched as disembarking passengers passed them. As she got ready to pounce, a severely well-dressed woman with a glossy twist of fair hair turned and said, “Well, Crispy. Imagine seeing you here. And Avalon. How nice.“ This couldn’t have been frostier if she’d had a mouthful of dry ice.
    Crispy was crestfallen. “You recognized me?“
    “Well, of course. You haven’t changed a bit.“
    Crispy stared at her for a