SCENE: BIRDS'-EYE-VIEW OF A BLACK AND WHITE TENT WITH THREE DOTS OF COLOR: THE HEADS OF MAX, AMY, AND AMARANTHA IN AN EQUILATERAL TRIANGLE. FOCUS ON AMARANTHA, SMILING AND SHOWING A LOT OF TEETH.

Amarantha: So . . . questions. What's your name, Max?

Max: Huh?

Amy: Answer, or else.

Max: Or else what?

Amy: Or I get to ask questions.

AMY SMILES INNOCENTLY, AND PASSES A HAND OVER MAX'S HEAD. FIVE RATS FALL FROM THIN AIR, LANDING ON MAX. HE JERKS, SCRAMBLING BACKWARDS, CRAB-STYLE, WITH AN EXCLAMATION OF DISGUST. AMARANTHA REACTS ALSO.

Amarantha: Hey! Leave my rats alone! (Shoves Amy half-heartedly) Be nice!

Amy: Oh, leave me alone. (Turns to Max) Full name, please.

Max (stutters randomly) Maximilian Maurice Townsend.

Amy: (waits) No Juniors or Seniors?

MAX SHAKES HIS HEAD WILDLY

Amarantha: This is my questioning, Amy. (Note: this is the first time anyone's heard her name. Think for a minute about whether it really seems appropriate. React accordingly.) Go climb a tree.

WITH A WHOOSH, AMY DISAPPEARS.

Amarantha: Aren't sisters annoying?

MAX SIMPLY GAPES AT THE POINT WHERE AMY USED TO BE, EVEN THOUGH HE REALLY OUGHT TO BE GETTING USED TO THIS BY NOW.

Amarantha: Not that I'd know, seeing as I've never had any sisters.

Max: Uh . . .

Amarantha: Nor have I ever had brothers. Have you?

MAX NODS.

Amarantha: Are they annoying?

MAX NODS

Amarantha: (sighs) I wish I had some brothers. Little ones that I could boss around. Want to be my brother?

Max: Uh . . .

Amarantha: Probably not, since I'm around Amy a lot. She's my cousin. Sort of. She's my great-great-great-great aunt's husband's sister.

Max: What?

Amarantha: And I'm your great-uncle's maternal aunt's sister-in-law, so you can't very well be my brother and my sort-of-nephew at the same time, can you?

Max: How old are you?

Amarantha: Same age as I look.

MAX IS ASTOUNDED AND SHAKES HIS HEAD IN DENIAL.

Amarantha: (defensively) Well, to sirens, anyway. I'm only ninety. Why, that's even within the normal life span of a human! I don't see what you're complaining about.

Max: (clears his throat and rasps around a very dry mouth) I'm not complaining. How . . . how old . . . is Amy?

Amarantha: Well, now, let me see. (She stands still, counting on her fingers. She has to shake her head several times and start over again. Finally, she starts drawing number tables in the air in glowing red lines.) Two thousand and six years old. How's Gustav?

MAX CANNOT ASSIMILATE THIS. I CONSIDERED HAVING HIM PASS OUT, BUT IT'S NOT REALLY THAT MUCH TROUBLESOME INFORMATION, AND MAX IS A HARDY SOUL. INSTEAD, A SCENE CHANGE.

~

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