They dressed in their finest for the reading—not that there had been room for much in the way of clothes during the voyage. But they had spent some of their signing bonus buying clothing, before the rest got turned over to Grandmother. Most of the clothing had to meet the description on the list from the Ministry of Colonization—warm clothes for a chilly but not-too-cold winter, light-but-tough clothing for summer work, and at least one long-lasting frock for special occasions. Tonight's reading was such an occasion—and here was where Mother had made sure that a bit of money was spent on gewgaws and accessories. They were over the top, really, and obviously costume jewelry. Then there were Mother's bedazzling scarves, which looked almost ironically extravagant on her, but would look pathetic and needy on Alessandra. Mother was dressed to kill; Alessandra could only strive not to disappear completely in Mother's penumbra.
They arrived just at the moment when the event was supposed to begin. Alessandra immediately rushed to her stool at the front, but Mother made a slow progress, greeting everyone, touching everyone, bestowing her smiles on everyone. Except one.
Admiral Morgan was seated in the second row, with a few officers around him, insulating him from any contact with the public—it was so obvious he considered himself a breed apart and wanted no contact with mere colonists. That was the privilege of rank, and Alessandra did not begrudge it. She rather wished she had the power to create a cordon around herself to keep unwanted persons from intruding into her privacy.
To Alessandra's horror, once Mother got down front, she continued her grand progress by passing along the front row of seats, greeting people there—and in the second row as well. She was going to try to force Admiral Morgan to speak to her!
But no, Mother's plan was even worse. She made a point of introducing herself to—and flirting with—the officers on either side of the admiral. But she did not so much as pause in front of Morgan himself; it was as if he didn't exist. A snub! Of the most powerful man in their little world!
Alessandra could hardly bear to look at Morgan's face, yet could not bring herself to look away, either. At first, he had watched Mother's approach with resignation—he was going to have to speak to this woman. But when Mother passed right over him, his barely contained sneer gave way to consternation and then to seething anger. Mother had indeed made an enemy. What was she thinking? How could this help anything?
But it was time to begin. The leading actors were seated on stools; the rest were on the front row, prepared to stand and face the audience when their parts came. Mother finally made her way to the stool in the center of the stage. Before sitting, she looked out over the audience beneficently and said, "Thank you so much for coming to our little performance. The play is set in Italy, where my daughter and I were born. But it is written in English, which comes to us only as a second language. My daughter is fluent, but I am not. So if I mispronounce, remember that Katharina was Italian, and in English she too would have my same accent."
It was all said with Mother's trademark glow, her light-and-happy air. What had become so annoying to Alessandra that there were times she wanted to scream in rage when she heard it now seemed absolutely charming, and her little speech was answered by the rest of the colonists and crew with chuckles and some applause. And the actor playing Petruchio—who had an obvious crush on Mother, despite his having brought along a wife and four children—even said, "Brava! Brava!"
The play thus began with all eyes on Mother, even though she didn't enter until the second act. Through sidelong glances, Alessandra could see that Mother was in a perfect trance of self-absorption during the scenes in which the men did all the exposition and made their bargain with Petruchio. As the other actors repeatedly mentioned beautiful Bianca and monstrous Katharina, Alessandra could see how Mother's pose was working—as her reputation grew, the audience would keep glancing at her and would find perfect stillness.
But that would not be right for Bianca, thought Alessandra. She remembered something Ender had said during their last rehearsal. "Bianca is perfectly aware of the effect she has on men." So where Katharina should be as still as Mother made her, Bianca's job was to be bright, happy, desirable. So Alessandra smiled and glanced away as the men spoke of beautiful Bianca, as if she were blushing and shy. It did not matter that Alessandra was not beautiful—as Mother always taught her, the plainest of women became movie stars because of how they presented themselves, unashamed of their worst features. What Alessandra could never do in real life—greet the world with an open smile—she could do as Bianca.
