Alex Flinn A Kiss in Time

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you believe a dog like that has such a hot brother?
Horrible things! Meryl undoubtedly heard her, for she
looks down and her mouth twists in an awkward manner.
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I do not know what to say. Although I spent months learn-
ing about diplomacy, we never once discussed what to do
if someone is deliberately cruel to another person in one s
presence.
Jack continues on the telephone. Why did he not come
to his sister s rescue?
Meryl is still standing by the door. She looks at me,
and I realize she must be embarrassed at my witnessing this
exchange. I take a rather too-large bite of my Chinese food.
Some of the sauce dribbles down my throat, causing me to
cough, then disgorge the food onto the ground. Oh, my
goodness! I cough again.
Meryl brightens, laughing. Eat much?
I attempt to retrieve the piece one of the miniature
corn ears with my napkin. No, not much at all.
It shows.
I hold out my plate. Would you like some? It seems
not to agree with me.
She begins to shake her head, then nods. Okay. She
gets her own plate and scrapes some of the food from my
plate to hers. She sits down. We eat in relative silence, other
than Jack s conversation. I wish I could think of something
to say.
Finally, I say, Are those girls friends of yours?
She looks down. We were friends . . . before they
turned into complete . . . She says a word I do not
understand.
Bee . . . I am sorry, but I do not know this term.
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Oh, I forgot you re Dutch. She sighs. It s kind of
like skank? Ho? Seeing my confusion, she says, Don t they
have hos in your country?
I begin to understand, particularly in light of the way
the young commoners dressed . . . not to mention the way
they pressed themselves against Jack. I nod.
Jennifer that s the blond one she lives next door.
She s hot for Jack, and she s always trying to jump on
him.
I understand. I nod and take another bite of the
Chinese food. I begin to warm to its exoticness.
Meryl takes a bite, too. I glance out the window. The
two girls are still outside, looking into the window, possibly
at Jack. When the brunette girl sees me staring at her, she
nudges her friend, then makes a face. I do not like these
girls. I remember when I was seven or eight, there was a
girl, the daughter of one of Mother s ladies-in-waiting, who
teased me quite relentlessly about not being allowed out,
saying she was going to prick me with a spindle. I despised
her.
Well, then, I say to Meryl, why allow them in, if they
are so unkind?
The question appears to take her by surprise. Still, she
manages to swallow her food before saying, I don t know,
cause we used to be friends, I guess. It seems like if you
know someone since birth, they should at least be nice to
you.
I nod. Why are they not, then?
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Meryl rolls her eyes as if I am the stupidest person she
has ever seen and takes another bite of her food. She does
not answer. Jack continues to prattle along on the tele-
phone, never once suspecting that I am making a complete
idiot of myself in front of his sister.
Finally, Meryl says, I d rather not talk about it,
Barbie.
My name is Talia.
Whatever. You wouldn t understand. You probably
have a gazillion friends. You re totally gorgeous.
I sigh. No, actually, I have often been quite lonely.
I do not get the chance to elaborate upon this state-
ment, though, as Jack finally closes his telephone. Good
news we re invited to a party at Stewy Stewart s house
tonight.
A party! I glance down at my attire, blue trousers and
something Jack called a tank top. Shall I wear my blue
gown? I ask Jack. Or my red one? I am fairly jump-
ing up and down, for I love parties. This one shall perhaps
make up for the birthday celebration I missed at home. In
fact, perhaps it will be like my birthday celebration in one
important particular that it will be the day upon which
my true love will find me. When Jack gazes upon me on
the dance floor, he will surely
Whoa, whoa . . . he says. It s not that kind of
party.
I glance at Meryl. She is laughing at me.
What kind is it, then?
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The fun kind.
I have never heard of a party without gowns. This is
turning out to be a very disappointing century.
Within a few minutes, Jack has invaded Meryl s room (over
her protests) and procured for me a shirt with the words
ABERCROMBIE & FITCH emblazoned across the chest. There
was a Fitch family in Euphrasia, but they were plagued by
insanity. I decide not to mention this. He also tries to get
me to wear something called a bathing suit, which consists
of a rather small scrap of yellow cloth.
I cannot wear that, I say. It is immodest. It is . . .
obscene.
I have a fleeting notion that Jack is playing a trick on
me, that this garment is merely an undergarment and his
insistence that I wear it merely a ruse to see me unclothed.
Although he will be within his rights to demand such privi-
leges after our nuptials, I cannot consent before.
It s a one-piece, Jack says.
One piece of what? I demand. I cannot wear it.
I don t want her to borrow it, anyway, Meryl says.
You go, girl! Tell him you won t wear it.
Not helpful, Jack says. To me, he says, That s
what people wear to go swimming nowadays . . . in this
century.
Well, then, it is very simple, then, I say, because I
cannot swim.
Jack sighs, and I know he is angry. For this, I am sorry,
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as he has been kind and I wish to please him. I wish to
marry him, in fact.
Can you get out of my room now? Meryl asks. I note
that she is once again clutching her sketch pad. Some
people are trying to work.
I am sorry, I tell Jack. Perhaps American young
ladies wear such garments and swim and . . . I think of
the young girls I would not call them ladies who have
just left. . . . and hang on to young men in a shameless
manner. But I am not an American young lady. There are
certain compromises I am unwilling to make. I do appreci-
ate your kindness.
If Jack is indeed my destiny, he should understand, and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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