Wild Cards. Джордж Р. Р. Мартин

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СКАЧАТЬ it’s rudeness,” Priscilla Beecher said. She took a delicate sip of her sweet tea.

      “Well,” Michelle replied. “We’re from New York. We’re pretty used to rudeness.”

      Priscilla frowned. It wasn’t a good look for her. It accentuated the lines around her mouth and the lines between her eyes. Then her frown vanished and she looked at Michelle with concern.

      “Bless your heart,” Priscilla said. There was the same kind of honeyed tone that Betty Virginia had used when chastising the gun-toting Earl. Did every southern woman learn that voice when they were growing up? (“And today, ladies, we learn how to talk like Melanie Hamilton Wilkes.”)

      “You and your band are just so brave to come here,” Priscilla continued. “People can be so cruel.”

      Priscilla looked at Adesina, who was across the room talking to Peter and LoriAnne, the drummer from the Funkalicious Four. Asti was with them as well. Asti had informed Michelle that LoriAnne was too shy to come and meet her. Michelle thought that was goofy and told them they should bring her over anyway.

      “It’s remarkable how open some of the other children are to your band members. Why, I expected they would be shunned.”

      “Admittedly, the Plano Originals don’t seem to like us much, except for Kimmie Coldwater,” Michelle said, trying to make her voice more cheerful and upbeat.

      “Kimmie is lovely, isn’t she?” Priscilla replied.

      “Yes, yes she is. And how long have you been helping with the competition?” Michelle asked.

      “I started about the same time you were on American Hero,” Priscilla replied. “Anyway, the last two years I was liaison for the Plano Originals,” she continued. “And I was supposed to be their liaison this year, but Dr. Smith thought I was the best qualified to welcome your band and help them along.”

      Adesina came up just then. “Hey, Mom. Hello, Ms. Beecher.”

      “Oh, it’s Miss Beecher, hon,” Priscilla said. “I’m an old-fashioned lady, I suppose.”

      “Sorry, Miss Beecher,” Adesina replied. Just then her eyes grew wide and she burst out, “Oh, there’s Mindy-Lou Gutiérrez.”

      “She’s so kewl,” Adesina said with a sigh. “Her solo videos on YouTube are awesome. She can play, like, every instrument and she even composes! And obvs she’s, like, hep to the jive. Mom, that’s old jazz talk. Yerodin and I are totes into that now.”

      Michelle looked at Adesina blankly. She could barely keep up with her own generation’s slang much less whatever language Adesina’s generation was using.

      Michelle finished off her Coke. She knew it would be a bad idea to have another—too much caffeine made her jittery—but she went to the bar anyway. A different bartender was there.

      “What can I get you?” the new bartender asked. She wore the same generic black-and-white uniform that Billy Rainbow had—though she looked a lot less like a model.

      “A Coke, please,” Michelle said. “What happened to the other bartender?”

      “You mean Billy? He did what he does best: ditch the last half of the party so he doesn’t have to do breakdown.” The bartender wrapped a paper napkin around Michelle’s glass and handed it to her. “He’s not a bad guy, but he’s always on the hustle. Even when there’s not much at stake.”

      “Sounds like a not-so-great guy to me.”

      The bartender shrugged. “Oh, he’s lousy at what he tries to do. He’s mostly a doofus. Pretty, but a doofus.”

      “I can see that.” Michelle might have said more, but that was when she heard Mindy-Lou Gutiérrez’s voice rise in anger.

      “Stop picking on me!” the girl from Modesto said hotly. “You’re just jealous because I’m a better musician than you.” Michelle knew that tone. It was someone on the edge of tears.

      “Oh, please,” was the reply. “Everyone knows you’re a poser.” It was the kind of nasty only a teenage girl was capable of, full of snottiness, contempt, and hostility.

      “You’re not nearly as hot as you think you are. There are jokers here who play better than you.”

      Michelle didn’t know the other girl, but she kinda hated her right off the bat. She was about to intervene when Mindy-Lou spun on her heel and rushed out of the ballroom. The other girl smiled maliciously as she watched.

      Adesina grabbed Michelle by the arm. “That’s Jillian Bigelow, Mom,” she whispered. “She’s totes a bitch.”

      “Language!”

      “Well, she is.”

      The ballroom was beginning to clear out. Time to round up the kids, Michelle thought. “You guys ready to call it a night?” she asked.

      The Mob looked unhappy. “It’s really early, Ms. Pond,” Sean said. The colors of his skin rippled and gradually changed color.

      “C’mon, Mom,” Adesina said. Her wings gave a flap and almost knocked over a floral arrangement. “It’s hella early.”

      “You guys have a super-busy day tomorrow,” Michelle said. “It’s time to head off to bed.”

      “Ms. Pond, it’s only nine o’clock,” Asti said. His peachy scent filled the air. “No one is going to bed at nine o’clock. Heck, curfew for the competition is ten.”

      Michelle had tried very hard to be Strict Mom and Serious Chaperone Woman, but it all seemed as if it was sliding away. The kids’ request wasn’t all that out of order. Dammit.

      “Fine,” she said. “But everyone back into their room by ten. Rusty’s going to keep an eye out for all of you. If you’re late coming in, I’m going to know. Also, stay away from those protesters.”

      “No problem, Ms. P,” said Peter. He rocked back and forth on his wheel. “They went away when the camera crews left earlier tonight.”

      “And don’t go down to the River Walk. Let’s have one night before you start surprising the tourists. Just hang around the hotel. Okay?”

      Michelle discovered Jan, Robin’s landlady, lurking behind one of the floral arrangements, looking fiercely at each partygoer as they left. Some of them didn’t notice her, but the ones who did recoiled and hurried out the door.

      “Jan, you’re making the guests feel uncomfortable,” Michelle said.

      She got a glare in return. “I’m trying to figure out who’re reptoids. Vicky could be at risk.”

      Michelle rolled her eyes. “Seriously, these are high schoolers with their chaperones and music teachers. Why on earth would reptile people be here?”

      Jan stared at Michelle with amazement. “Reptoids! I thought I explained this to you. They’re СКАЧАТЬ