Missing Sisters -SA Read Online Free Page B

Julie Andrews from the turntable and Naomi Matthews in the flesh pealed in a duet. Julie Andrews sang with notes coated in ice, like the trees two weeks ago when the snow and rain joined up.
    You could see and hear through her words clear to the other side. Transparencies. Even Alice could. Naomi Matthews, in Alice’s humble opinion, sounded like slush. When the violins and flutes arabesqued up to a jittery pinnacle, Naomi’s voice declared Eliza-the-character’s love of dancing by going shrill and high, all out of pitch, loud as a police siren.

    Ruth Peters reared herself up on the sofa and said loudly, “She can too hear.” So they piped down a bit and adjusted the volume, though Naomi continued to make broad gestures of how she would dance in her white nightgown and sing with perfect diction, throwing her arms out like this, like this, like this. If that’s what I’m going to be like when I improve my speaking, thought Alice, forget it. I’d rather mumble.

    “ Alice .” Sister Ike knocked her fist against Alice’s surprised forehead. “Hello in there.
    I’m playing the intro, and you’re supposed to be listening.” Sister Ike cascaded her fingers again in a little Highland fling across the keys. Alice attended. She opened her mouth and sang when the time seemed right. The song was a listing of everything that would make Eliza happy. Alice wasn’t very strong on remembering words.
    “What I’d like blah blah blah some-time. Can’t re-mem-ber the rest some-time, blah blah blah—”

    “Words, Alice,” sang Sister Ike, mouthing them exaggeratedly so Alice could read her lips.

    “And life would be so heavenly!” She always remembered that line. The real song said it a different way, but the nuns didn’t approve of the word loverly around the home. It was Alice’s favorite line and she gave it gusto. Ruth Peters applauded. Naomi had turned her back, and her shoulders were shaking. There were twisted, bitten little smiles on Rebecca’s and Sarah’s faces.

    “I can’t do this!” cried Alice.

    Sister Ike went plowing on with the next verse.

    “And life would be so heavenly!” sang Alice grimly. “Heavenly! Heavenly! Heavenly!
    Heavenly!”

    It wasn’t very heavenly, but that apparently was why they were practicing. They went over it six, eight, ten times, till even Ruth Peters was mouthing the words Alice couldn’t remember. Naomi meanwhile Rained in Spain. She practiced being Eliza Doolittle at the ball, flouncing out her imaginary gown as if dogs were nosing naughtily up at her and she had to shoo them away with little backhanded motions. Finally Sister John Bosco called for her over the PA and she left, her bodyguards bobbing along behind her. Little Ruth Peters quietly wet the sofa rather than get up and leave Sister Isaac Jogues and Alice. Ruth was sort of in love with Alice.

    Sister Ike kept gamely on for some time. Finally she sighed, though, and closed the lid of the piano. “Look at the time. Alice, I guess you’d better go downstairs and give this sheet music to Father Laverty. He’s driving over to Saint Mary’s in Albany to say Mass for the boys this afternoon. He can deliver the music to Brother Antoine. Give him this envelope with cash in it, too. It’s the money we owe him for the record album.” Brother Antoine over there was the director of the boys’ roles. He’d be training Professor Higgins and Eliza’s father and the boyfriend, Freddy. Sacred Heart and Saint Mary’s would never be ready to put on this joint production in a month, of course. It was doomed to failure. Alice didn’t even know why she was wasting her time.

    “Yes, Sister,” she said, and went downstairs.

    The hall was empty. Most of the girls had gone for a Saturday matinee of some boring Walt Disney comedy with dogs and kids in it. Sister Francis de Sales was the only one around on the first floor. She was transcribing notes from a taped lecture and removed her headphones only when Alice