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y’all gonna go down to Kemah’s Boardwalk to audition?” Egyptian asks nonchalantly, dabbing pink lip gloss on her lips from a Glitter Gurlie tube, like she’s grown.
    “What audition are you talking about?” I respond, not looking up because I’m trying to get a napkin into the holder just right, so the fan shape is perfect.
    “You know—they’re looking for unknown groups for the Karma’s Children benefit concert. Didn’t Aunt Junie tell you?” Egyptian licks her lips again, then jumps up to get Ma’s attention. “Aunt Junie, didn’t you tell Nettie One and Two about the poster up in the Galleria?”
    “What poster are you talking about?” Ma shoots back.
    “Aunt Junie—you’d have to be blind to miss it. It’s got their picture on it and everything,” Egyptian says, exasperated.
    “Whose picture?” Angie asks.
    “Karma’s Children!” Egyptian says, like we’re all stupid.
    “They’ve even got on outfits like y’all’s,” India says, grinning straight at me, even though her left eye isn’t. India has a wandering eye, which is probably why she is nicer than her sister. Kids have been making fun of her eyes ever since she could talk, and I think getting made fun of makes a person more sensitive.
    “No, they don’t,” Egyptian says, cutting off her sister. “They’re polka dots, stupid!”
    “Well, they look the same,” India says, shrugging. She pours some of the beads and crystals out of the pinto beans can she uses to store all her arts and crafts stuff.
    “Don’t do that now! Big Momma will get mad!” Egyptian hisses, picking up the beads, some of which have rolled onto the floor. “Now look what you’ve done!”
    Ma comes out of the kitchen with a serving pan of corn bread, and puts it on the table. “What poster are you talking about, ’Gyptian?” she asks.
    “They are looking for unknown groups to open for Karma’s Children for the benefit concert at Kemah’s,” Egyptian says, like she is
so-o
tired of repeating herself.
    “’Gyptian, how am I going to tell them about a poster I never saw?” Ma shoots back.
    “
Everybody
is talking about it,” Egyptian counters. “It’s right outside the Glitter Gurlie store in the Galleria. Even people who can’t sing are gonna audition for it!”
    “’Gyptian, I haven’t been to the Glitter Gurlie store, now have I? But it’s obvious
you
have,” Ma says disapprovingly, first looking at the tube of lip gloss in Egyptian’s hands, then at the glittery gunk she has smeared on her lips.
    Egyptian puts her head down meekly, toying with the lip gloss tube in her hand.
    “Now, you know you’d better go wash that stuff off before Big Momma sees it,” Ma says sternly.
    “India, exactly what does the poster say?” I ask my younger cousin, since she’s more levelheaded than her sister.
    “They’re having auditions tomorrow for unknown groups who want to sing at the Karma’s Children concert,” India says.
    “That’s what it said, huh?” I respond. The wheels in my head are turning faster than on a Bronco.
    “‘Help Us Sing for Their Supper,”’ Egyptian adds nonchalantly. “That’s what it says at the top of the poster.”
    “I wonder if they’re paying,” I mutter out loud.
    “Who cares?” Ma shoots back. “It sounds like it could be the opportunity of a lifetime!”
    “Well, we’ve sure heard
that
one before,” I chuckle, and look at Angie.
    “We’d better get down to the mall tomorrow morning and look at the sign,” Angie says, ignoring me.
    “You don’t have to,” India says.
    “Why not?” I ask.
    “’Cuz I wrote down the number for myself!” she answers proudly. Then she sees Egyptian glaring at her, so she stutters, “’Gyptian and I just want to meet Karma’s Children and get an autograph.”
    “I didn’t see you write down any number,” Egyptian hisses.
    “I did it when you went inside the store!” India says adamantly, pulling out a paper from her purse. “Here it