[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
probably what Bill Gates was like in high school, and look at him now. I bet
all the girls who knew him back then are really kicking themselves now for
having turned down his invitations to prom, or whatever.
But to tell you the truth, it didn't do much good. Even if he had a trillion
dollars like Bill Gates, I still wouldn't let Michael Meducci put his tongue
in my mouth.
Michael left eventually, and I made my way grumpily back up the stairs
well, after enduring an interrogation from my mother, who came out as soon as
she heard the front door close and demanded to know who Michael's parents
were, where he lived, where we'd be going on our date, and why wasn't I more
excited? A boy had asked me out!
Returning at last to my room, I noticed that Gina was back. She was lying on
the daybed, pretending to read a magazine, and acting like she had no idea
where I'd been. I walked over, snatched it away from her, and hit her over the
head with it a few times.
"Okay, okay," she said, throwing her arms up over her head and giggling. "So
I know already. Did you say yes?"
"What was I supposed to say?" I demanded, flopping down onto my own bed. "He
was practically crying."
Even as I said it, I felt disloyal. Michael's eyes, behind the lenses of his
glasses, had been very bright, it was true. But he had not actually been
crying. I was pretty sure.
Page 36
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Oh, my God," Gina said to the ceiling. "I can't believe you're going out
with a geek."
"Yeah," I said, "well, you haven't exactly been exercising much
discrimination lately yourself,G ."
Gina rolled over onto her stomach and looked at me seriously. "Jake's not as
bad as you think, Suze," she said. "He's actually very sweet."
I summed up the situation in one word: "Ew."
Gina, with a laugh, rolled onto her back again. "Well, so what?" she asked.
"I'm on vacation. It's not like it could possibly go anywhere anyway."
"Just promise me," I said, "that you aren't going to & I don't know. Get full
frontal with one of them, or anything."
Gina just grinned some more. "What about you and the geek? You two going to
be doing any lip-locking?"
I picked up one of the pillows from my bed and threw it at her. She sat up
and caught it with a laugh. "What's the matter?" she wanted to know. "Isn't he
The One?"
I leaned back against the rest of my pillows. Outside, I heard the familiar
thump of Spike's four paws hitting the porch roof. "What one?" I asked.
"You know," Gina said. "The One. The one the psychic talked about."
I blinked at her. "What psychic? What are you talking about?"
Gina said, "Oh, come on. Madame Zara. Remember? We went to her at that school
fair in like the sixth grade. And she told you about being a mediator."
"Oh." I lay perfectly still. I was worried if I moved or said anything much,
I would reveal more than I wanted to. Gina knew & but only a little. Not
enough to really understand.
At least, that's what I thought then.
"You don't remember what else she said?" Gina demanded. "About you, I mean?
About how you were only going to have one love in your life, but that it was
going to last until the end of time?"
I stared at the lace trim of the canopy that hung over my bed. I said, my
throat gone mysteriously dry, "I don't remember that."
"Well, I don't think you heard much of what she said after that bit about you
being a mediator. You were in shock. Oh, look. Here comes that & cat."
Gina avoided, I noticed, supplying any descriptives for Spike, who climbed in
through the open window, then stalked over to his food bowl and cried to be
fed. Apparently, the memory of what had happened the last time she'd called
the cat a name the thing with the fingernail polish was still fresh in
Gina's mind. As fresh, apparently, as what that psychic had said all those
years ago.
One love that would last until the end of time.
I realized, as I picked up Spike's bag of food, that my palms had broken out
Page 37
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
into a cold sweat.
"Wouldn't you die," Gina asked, "if it turned out your one true love was
Michael Meducci?"
"Totally," I replied, automatically.
But it wasn't. If it was true and I had no reason to doubt it, since Madame
Zara had been right about the mediator thing, the only person in the world,
with the exception of Father Dominic, who had ever guessed then I knew
perfectly well who it was.
And it wasn't Michael Meducci.
C H A P T E R
7
Not that Michael didn't try.
The next morning he was waiting for me in the parking lot as Gina, Sleepy,
Dopey, Doc, and I stumbled out of the Rambler and started making our way
toward our various lines for assembly. Michael asked if he could carry my
books. Telling myself that the RLS Angels could show up at any time and
attempt to murder him again, I let him. Better to keep an eye on him, I
thought, than to let him wander into God only knew what.
Still, it wasn't all that fun. Behind us, Dopey kept doing a very convincing
imitation of someone throwing up.
And later, at lunch, which I traditionally spend with Adam and Cee Cee
though this particular day, since Gina was in our midst, we had been joined by
her groupies, Sleepy, Dopey, and about a half dozen boys I didn't know, each
of whom was vying desperately for Gina's attention Michael asked if he could
join us. Again, I had no choice but to say yes.
And then when, strolling toward the Rambler after school, it was suggested
that we use the next four or five hours of daylight to its best advantage by
doing our homework at the beach, Michael must have been nearby. How else could
he have known to show up at the Carmel Beach, beach chair in tow, an hour
later?
"Oh, God," Gina said from her beach towel. "Don't look now, but your one true
love approacheth."
I looked. And stifled a groan. And rolled over to make room for him.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]