"William Sleator - Interstellar Pig" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sleator William)

"Sure," I said, wondering what the matter was with Mom. Usually she would have
been a little cold to a stranger barging in on us like this. Now she was
actually sending me over to fraternize with the neighbors.

"Oh, thank you. And you wouldn't happen to have an extra one of those tide
charts, by chance, would you?" the young woman asked, her gaze wandering
toward the stairway.

"Yes, I'll get it," I said, forgetting to be shy.
She was looking at me now, and my eyes slid away from her. "That would be so
gentle of you," she said warmly.

I got the tide chart, filled my arms with prickly kindling and pushed open the
screen door. I waited while she remained inside for a long moment, then
followed as she came striding out. In the darkness, the light from the
cottage's picture window made a pale oblong on the sloping lawn. A crescent
moon hung over the invisible black water.

"We're in fortune," the woman announced, holding open the screen door of the
cottage as I stepped cautiously inside. Compared to the heavily curtained,
overstuffed interior of the captain's

house, the main room of the cottage seemed empty and bleakтАФbare white walls,
gray linoleum floor, unmatching plastic furniture, with two metal floor lamps
providing the harsh illumination. The men sat drinking wine at a wooden table
in the center of the room. The debris of a meal had been pushed aside, and
some kind of a game seemed to be in progress. A board had been set up on the
table, with movable pieces and colored cards and envelopes. A succulent, spicy
smell lingered.

"That's a bonanza," said the man with the brown mustache, getting up to accept
the kindling. I was aware, as he came toward me, of how large and powerfully
built he was. "Thanks extremely," he said and lifted the big load of kindling
from my arms as though it were a couple of match sticks.

"Hi," said the man with the blond beard, who was slenderer than the other, but
wiry. "Did you get inside?" he asked the woman. Then he said "Oops!" and
gulped down some wine.

Three pairs of lavender eyes watched me curiously now. And at that moment I
noticed, in the corner by the fireplace, a pile of kindling. Why had they lied
about it and borrowed more from us? Their strangeness intrigued me. "Anything
you'd like to know about the area?" I asked, wanting an excuse to stay. "Or
maybe I'm interrupting your game?"

. "Of course you are, but please stay anyway," the woman said, smiling.
"You're the only people around and we're wanting to find out about this quaint
seacoast locale. Aren't we?"

"Yes, have some vino," said the blond man, reaching for the bottle.