"Jack Dann - Voices" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dann Jack)

so ... beautiful! I would see her around once in a while, but I never said
anything to her. I was waiting for the right time.

Not a good way to get through a summer. Anyway, she was always with a
girlfriend, and I was most times by myself. No way was I going to walk up to
her and make a complete asshole of myself in front of her and her girlfriend.
She hung around with a fat girl, probably because it made her look even better;
it seemed all the good-looking girls did that.

"Okay, you ready?" Crocker asked as we approached the front stairs to the
building, which was gray and white, with lots of gingerbread like my parents'
house.

"I was born ready. Let's go."

I hated this place already.

"We'll go in right after these people," Crocker said, nodding in the direction
of a crowd waiting to get past the door into the parlor. "Pretend like you're
with them." So we followed them inside. I was all sweaty and the sharp blast of
the air-conditioning felt good.

The old people ahead of us all stopped to write in a book that rested on what
looked like a music stand; but Crocker really knew his way around here and led
me right into a large, dimly lit, carpeted room with high windows covered with
heavy blue drapes. People were standing around and talking, soft organ music
was playing, and there was a line of people filing past an ornate casket that
was surrounded with great bushes of flowers.

"Let's go see it and get the hell out of here," I said, feeling uncomfortable.
I looked around. Even though this room was certainly big enough, I felt as if I
was being closed up in a closet. And I figured it had to be just a matter of
time before someone would see we weren't supposed to be here and kick us out.

"Wait till the line gets through," Crocker said. But a woman wearing a silky
black dress and one of those round pillbox hats with a veil put her hand on my
shoulder and asked, "Did you go to school with Matt?"

I looked at her, and I've got to say I was scared, although I don't really know
why I should have been. "Uh, yes, ma'am," I said, looking to Crocker-who was
supposed to be the professional-to pull us out of this.

"I'm his aunt Leona. You should meet his mom and dad, they're right there." She
pointed to a tall balding man and a skinny woman who made me think of some sort
of bird. "Stay right here and I'll get them," Aunt Leona said. "I'm sure
they'll want to talk to you."
I could only nod. When the woman walked away, I said, "What the hell did you
get us into?"

Crocker looked nervous, too, but he said, "Didn't you read the obituary?"