"Nixon, Joan Lowery - The Other Side Of Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nixon Joan Lowery)

"Oh, didn't they tell you that? There's a real cute off-duty policeman stationed in the hall to keep out the reporters and photographers. Norma's been walking by him so often she's wearing a path in the tiles."
"But whatЧ"
She holds up a hand to hush me. "Listen. Here it is."
The newscaster is saying, "Stacy McAdams, Houston's sensational Sleeping Beauty, two days ago awakened from a four-year-long comatose state to announce that she is a potential eyewitness to a murder. However, she is just as inaccessible to reporters as the original Sleeping Beauty was to the rest of the world."
As he speaks the front door of the clinic is shown on the screen. So that's where I am. It's a white one-story building that seems to ramble over a large area, and there are lots of pine trees shading it. There are people standing on the steps of the building and, on the grass, some of them carrying cameras. A policeman is facing them, his back to the closed doors.
On the screen appear the same two photographs that were in the newspaper.
"Чcalled a model student by her teachers," the newscaster continues.
"Oh, no!" I groan. "That's not true. I wasn't a model student. I hated algebra. Anyhow, what he said makes me sound like a creep."
"You can't hear what he says if you don't keep quiet," the nurse answers, but a picture comes up of a group of protesters at the city hall, and the newscaster is off on another story.
The photographs of the two girls stay in my mind. Especially the one taken by the newspaper reporter. "Do I really look like that?" I whisper to myself.
The nurse hears me. "Sure you dot You're just as pretty as Sleeping Beauty was too! Remember the Walt Disney one, with her dark hair and big eyes?"
"That was Snow White."
She shrugs and laughs. "Doesn't matter. You're a really good-looking girl. You're going to have lots of dates and lots of fun."
She scurries out of the room. It's just as well, because I'm suddenly too surprised to talk to her. Dates? I don't know how to date. I don't even know what to say to a guy. Oh, sure, there were cute guys in my school, but Jan and I and my other friends didn't talk to them much, except when we worked up enough courage to say things like "You were real good in the game yesterday." And when they weren't around, we giggled a lot about them and talked about what we'd do if a guy wanted to kiss us. Suzie told us she'd been French-kissed, and she described what it was like and a lot more, but Jody kept yelling, "Yuck, yuck, yuck! That's gross!" so Suzie said we were babies and she wasn't going to tell us any more. We didn't care. We'd all read the same book Suzie had.
Jan and I asked our mothers when we could date, and they both said not until we were in high school. Jan and I made a real fuss about it. I guess now that was pretty silly, since none of the guys had asked us for dates.

Jan. Jan would know how to date, but I can't ask her what to do. She'd think I was really dumb. She's not the Jan I used to know, and I feel shy with her. Maybe I can ask Donna what to do.
I flop on the bed, nearly overturning my still-covered dinner tray.
From where I'm lying on the bed I can see the bottom edge of the door. It's open just a crack, just enough so that someone must be holding it open, just enough for someone to be watching me.
Quickly I scramble off the bed and manage to stammer, "WhoЧwho's there?"
The door opens wide, and Monty blinks and grins. "Hey, it's just me."
"What do you want?"
"Your tray," he says. "I'm collecting them."
"You just brought it."
He shrugs. "Go ahead and finish," he says. He comes into the room, shoving the door so that it shuts behind him, and sprawls in the armchair. "Saw you on TV," he adds.
"You're not supposed to be in here."
"Gotta take a break once in a while. They really work us hard around here."
I grab the tray and shove it at him. "Here. Take it."
"You didn't eat anything. Aren't you hungry?"
"No."
He still doesn't move to take the tray. "You're a celebrity. You know that?"
"Go away."
Slowly Monty bends and curls as though it were taking a lot of effort to pull his body together and out of the chair. When he gets to his feet, he says, "You're not very friendly. I just thought it would be kind of interesting to ask you about what happened."
"I don't mean to be unfriendly. I just don't want to talk about it."
"You're scared. Right? But you don't have to be scared of me." He moves a step closer. "You can tell me. What did the guy look like? Do you know his name?"
I can't answer. I try to back up, but the bed is behind me. Only the tray is between us.
Monty's voice lowers. "It's sort of like a movie, you being the only one who can identify the guy who shot you and your mom. If it was a movie, you know the guy would come hunting for you, and it would probably be Jack Nicholson or somebody, and you'd try to hide out andЧ"
I drop the tray, and he hops backward, grabbing his left foot.
"Whadja do that for?"
"Get out of here!" I yell at him, and I jab at the call button.
A petite nurse with cropped black hair comes in as Monty is picking up the dishes and trying to wipe up the globs of food that decorate the floor.
"What's the matter?" she asks.
"She did it, not me!" Monty complains.
"I told him to get out! He kept trying to ask me questions!"
Monty stands, holding the messy tray. He grins at the nurse. "She's a celebrity. I just wanted to talk to her for a few minutes."
"Get back to your job," she says sternly. "You could get fired for deliberately annoying a patient."
She glares until he leaves the room. Then she smiles at me. "Don't mind Monty. He's not the brightest person around this hospital, but he's harmless."
"He wouldn't leave when I told him to. He frightened me. He asked too many questions."
"He was just curious," she answers. "Naturally the staff has been talking a lot about you, and he probably wanted to brag about getting some inside information. I'll tell the head nurse to chew him out, and he'll leave you alone. Want another dinner tray?"
"No, thanks. I'm not very hungry."