Dreamland City. Larina Lavergne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ hazel than anything.

      “Hi,” she says, giving me the non-committal half-smile that girls like her give girls like me when forced into close proximity.

      Her voice doesn’t match her face. It’s soft, husky, and almost gravelly, like Aretha Franklin.

      I ignore her and turn to the teacher, who’s outlining the lab syllabus. It’s an accelerated course (half the semester’s already gone) but even so, the workload seems minimal. Roommate has whipped out her laptop now and is making notes. I doodle and my attention drifts.

      I remember the day last year, around this exact same time or maybe a couple of months earlier, when my high school principal called me into his office.

      “How are you doing, Lily? How are things?”

      “Very well, Sir,” I say. “Things are going well.”

      “They just gave us the results of the national aptitude tests from last month,” he said. The look he gave me was studied and careful.

      I remember thinking I must have skipped out on those, and that he wanted me to retake them.

      “Yes Sir, I’m sorry I wasn’t in school during the tests. I was sick.”

      “No, no, Lily. You took them. That’s why we want to talk to your mother,” he said.

      “I’m sorry,” I said again automatically, as he took off his glasses and began to polish them on his shirt. “I’ll try and do better.”

      That’s when he made a weird screeching exclamation, “Oh no, there’s nothing to be sorry about, Lily!” There was a warm, unfamiliar glint in his eye, and I suddenly realized then that this look, plus the screeching exclamation must be his version of encouragement.

      “OK. Can I go now?”

      “Lily, you scored the highest scores in the state,” he said as I got up.

      That’s when I froze. Well, good for me, I guess. “Thank you.” I nodded and turn to leave. He was up in a flash then, coming around the table.

      I had my hand on the doorknob but he held his hand against the frame, blocking my way. “Wait. Do you know what this means, Lily?” he asked.

      “I don’t know, Sir,” I told him tightly.

      “Well,” he said after a short pause. “I know you have many things on your mind. But Lily, you need to start thinking about college applications. I’ve talked to your teachers, and they don’t think you’ve applied to any?”

      “No, I haven’t.”

      “It’s not too late. In fact, we’ll help you with your applications.”

      “I can’t afford college.”

      “There are scholarships, Lily. Look, I’m going to make you a mandatory appointment with the guidance counselor, and she’s going to steer you through this whole process, OK?”

      “So can I go now?”

      “Yes, but I do want you to think about your future. It’s not often that someone can score the highest scores in the state just like that. Your teachers are planning to speak to you about it too.”

      I nodded and raced out of his office, the first thought reverberating: Highest scores in the state?

      And then: Damn, we must be a real stupid state.

      So here I am now, at Duke University, sitting next to my pretty blond roommate in a thermodynamics lab. Unlike me, girls like her have never expected to be anywhere else.

      I doodle some more.

      +++

      Lab isn’t over quickly enough. What I got out of it was that 1) The coursework is a joke, 2) we have to do a lab project that will essentially be super time consuming and 3) Our Professor is a weirdo.

      I’m sitting alone outside eating more bread and Nutella (I swear they must make a fortune off me) when a shadow falls over me. It’s between classes and the walkway is packed with kids rushing to and fro, like little ants when you disturb their neat slow line.

      Suddenly, people walking by are pausing in mid-step to gape. I lick my fingers clean. Of course. Besides the God-anointed basketball team, only one person at Duke causes this much excitement. It’s my library bud, David Morgan.

      Instinctively, I stand up, my mouth still full.

      “Wait,” he protests, a charming grin giving him dimples. “You don’t have to go.”

      “Done eating,” I say, chewing furiously. I mean, I like David—I genuinely do, and besides how good he looks, he’s more interesting than anyone else I’ve met so far here. But the anonymity I’d worked so hard to achieve is disappearing fast. If anyone digs, they’ll find out where I’m from. And they’ll want to dig if David Morgan continues talking to me.

      David nods, a little sadly. Then he notices the Nutella stain on the aluminum foil I used to wrap my sandwich in.

      “Wow you really like Nutella,” he observes.

      “Yeah, I stole a bottle once when I was nine and ever since I don’t think I actually need to eat anything else.”

      He looks momentarily taken aback. Then he says, “So…you sure about the chocolate festival? I mean, we’ll just be hanging out. Friends, you know?”

      I shake my head. “Sorry.” And then I’m walking away and dumping the foil in a trashcan. As I leave, he catches my eye and smiles, a little uncertainly, but almost sweetly.

      I think he wants to wave, but he doesn’t.

      +++

      I wander for hours all around campus grounds delaying my return to my new room. Finally, the library kicks me out at midnight.

      It is dark when I enter and I fumble with the light and stub my toe against something. “Ow!”

      The room is still silent. She isn’t here.

      Relieved beyond words, I change in record time into an old T-shirt and shorts, and then dive into the lumpy rollout bed, pulling the covers over me. Through the thin walls and door, I can hear the last remnants of conversation in the hallway—whispers of ‘good night’ and ‘see you in the morning.’ From outside, the strains of music from a party at one of the frats. I lay awake, until that too, fades away.

      I’m still awake when I hear drunken laughter and stage whispers of returning partygoers.

      All of the sudden, there’s a scratching sound at the door. Light floods in as someone flings the door open and comes in. I wrap the covers even tighter and turn over to face the side. And then, I realize, it’s not just someone in my room, it’s two someones, and they smell of liquor and cigarettes.

      “Shhhh…you’ll wake my new roommate,” says my blond roommate. Her husky voice is now thick and slurred.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ