"Mary Rosenblum - Color Vision" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)

тАЬNo. Yes. IтАЩm okay.тАЭ Which IтАЩm not. I look back but nobody comes
charging out after us. тАЬIтАЩm going home. You better get back in there before
you get detention.тАЭ

тАЬWhat happened?тАЭ He doesnтАЩt go. тАЬHow come he called you
Dreyling? How come you threw up?тАЭ

тАЬFood poisoning.тАЭ I head across the playground, waiting for
somebody to start yelling. I guess maybe I could tell myself that I was
imagining a weird silver voice like that . . . but I felt it and it hurt. And then
there was Mr. Beasley and the gold dish.

And Mr. Teleomara.

I gotta talk to Cris.

тАЬI ate in the cafeteria, too.тАЭ Jeremy catches up to me. тАЬAnd IтАЩm not
puking. And what about your mom? My mom told me she was dead. She
said not to talk about her because you were in denial.тАЭ
 тАЬSheтАЩs not dead.тАЭ I really snap at him, then I feel bad. Jeremy stuck
up for me when I first came here, last winter. He talks to me when the In
Crowd wonтАЩt. тАЬSorry.тАЭ I sigh. тАЬLook, I gotta go talk to somebody. ItтАЩs really
impor-tant.тАЭ WeтАЩre across the playground now, still nobody yelling. I canтАЩt
believe how easy it is to skip school. I duck through the hedge beyond the
swings and monkey bars, into the yard where the yappy little dog lives, but
he must be inside. JeremyтАЩs still following me.

I should tell him to get lost. So what if I hurt his feelings? But I donтАЩt
want to. He thinks hearing color is cool, even if his mom is a counselor and
thinks IтАЩm in denial. And I wonder if maybe, just maybe, heтАЩd be okay with
Cris. So I donтАЩt say anything and he climbs over the old board fence with
me and we cut through the weedy lot and head down Fir Street, which turns
into the rutted gravel road that leads way back into the woods to the dump
we rented. IтАЩm not going home, though. I need to talk to Cris first, because
as soon as I tell Dad about Mr. Teleomara, weтАЩre gonna be in the car and
heading for another state.

And that hits me, all of a sudden. That weтАЩll leave. I mean we always
do, but IтАЩll really miss Cris, because before Cris I didnтАЩt really have a clue.
And my throat starts hurting because weтАЩve only been here a few months
and I like Jeremy and I donтАЩt usually make friends. And now I have two and
I have to leave. A mowerтАЩs buzzing out hot red-orange and spring birdsong
sparkles blue and pink and gold in the trees, and it would be a really pretty
day if Mr. Stinking Teleomara hadnтАЩt walked in.

ItтАЩs all dark and quiet now, all thick Sitka spruce and salal thickets, and
itтАЩs almost dark as twilight. The old bullfrog is thumping in the scummy
pond.