She doesn’t know what she’s missing, Toni thought. Without the on-line chat room, I never would have met Jean Claude.
Toni thought about how much her mother would have hated the Internet, but then her mother had hated everything.
She had only two means of communicating: screaming or whining; Toni could never please her.
“Can’t you ever do anything right, you stupid child?” Well, her mother had yelled at her once too often.
Toni thought about the terrible accident in which her mother had died, and Toni could still hear her screams for help.
The memory of it made Toni smile. “A penny for a spool of thread, A penny for a needle. That’s the way the money goes, Pop! goes the weasel.”
Chapter Three
In another place, at another time, Alette Peters could have been a successful artist.
As far back as she could remember, her senses were tuned to the nuances of color.
She could see colors, smell colors and hear colors; her father’s voice was blue and sometimes red.
Her mother’s voice was dark brown, her teacher’s voice was yellow, and the grocer’s voice was purple.
The sound of the wind in the trees was green, and the sound of running water was gray.
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