"Christopher Pike - Weekend" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pike Christopher)

When Mr. and Mrs. Carlton died, Lena and Robin would inherit a mint. At least Lena would.

"I wouldn't trust Lena to cut my nails," Kerry said.

"Ouch!" Shani said. They had hit another hole and her head had received another slap. "I understand that
she's quite competent, has been trained by the doctors and all. The procedure is supposed to be simple."

"Hey!" Angie burst out suddenly. "Shani, I forgot to tell you! I called Park from the motel last night and
guess who's riding down with him and Sol and Bert?"

"Who?"

"Guess!"

"David Bowie. I guessed, now tell me!"

"Flynn."

"Flynn!" Flynn Powers was the new boy in town, from England. He'd only arrived in February, at the
semester break. He was a dream: curly brown hair, dark green eyes, a walk as smooth as liquified
charisma; and a hypnotic, accented voice that could literally put her in a trance. He had the largest hands,
beautifully formed and eloquent; they could have been stolen from a Michelangelo. Everyone said it --
even the guys. Flynn had something about him, an indefinable aura of depth that spontaneously
commanded respect. He was neither tall nor well-built, but he was a babe. All the girls wanted him, and
Shani was trying to get in front of the pack. Trouble was, he probably didn't even know she walked the
earth. He didn't seem much interested in the girls at their school. Lena - she was an exception to
everything -- thought he was gay.

"Do you have a plan of approach?" Kerry asked. She was neutral as far as Flynn was concerned, as she
was still trying to get Sol back. ,

"Jump on him, I don't know," Shani said, the concentration of acid in her stomach abruptly doubling.
Thinking about doing anything made her nervous. Sometimes she swore she was getting an ulcer. She
chewed Rolaids instead of gum. "What can I do?"

"What you suggested might work," Angie said.

"If I thought there was a chance, I would do it," Shani said, not taking herself seriously. She had to be
the most sexually inexperienced girl in her senior class. She hadn't even "gone all the way" through a
Playgirl magazine. Getting dates had been no problem, but the guys would only kiss her cheek at the end
of the night, or else shake her hand; she had that kind of reputation. Perhaps she should talk to Lena,
have a filthy rumour started in connection with her name. Not that she was obsessed - she was merely
very, very interested in sex. What she really wanted was what all of them wanted: a relationship.
Unfortunately, she had taken physics, and had received a good grade, and had won a scholarship to the
University of California at Santa Barbara, and had listed "psychiatrist" as her ambition in the yearbook
and had read too many of the classics, and had the repulsive habit of sounding intelligent, all of which was
enough to make any adolescent male ego insecure. But in reality she had hated physics, and had got an
"A" only because she had studied hard. She was not that smart, not that secure. Often, she felt lonely.
Often, she watched Flynn from the other side of the campus, and wondered if he couldn't change all this.