Кристин Ханна – Rirefly Lane / Улица Светлячков. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 6)
Late that night, long after everyone else had gone to bed, Kate crept down the stairs, put on her dad’s huge rubber boots, and went outside. It was becoming a habit lately, going outside when she couldn’t sleep. Overhead, the huge black sky was splattered with stars. It made her feel small and unimportant, that sky. A lonely girl looking down at an empty street that went nowhere.
Sweetpea nickered and trotted toward her.
She climbed up onto the top rail of the fence. “Hey there, girl,” she said, pulling a carrot out of her parka’s pocket.
She glanced over at the house across the street. The lights were still on at midnight. No doubt Tully was having a party with all the popular kids. They were probably laughing and dancing and talking about how cool they were.
Kate would give everything she owned to be invited to just one party like that.
Sweetpea nudged her knee, snorted.
“I know. I’m dreaming.” Sighing, she slid off the fence, petted Sweetpea one last time, and then went back to bed.
A few nights later, after a dinner of Pop-Tarts and Alpha-Bits cereal, Tully took a long, hot shower, shaved her legs and underarms carefully, and dried her hair until it fell straight from her center part without a single crease or curl. Then she went to her closet and stood there, trying to figure out what to wear. This was her first high school party. She needed to look just right. None of the other girls from the junior high had been invited. She was The One. Pat Richmond, the best-looking guy on the football team, had chosen Tully for his date. They’d been at the local hamburger hangout last Wednesday night, his group of friends and hers. All it had taken was one look between them. Pat had broken free of the crowd of huge guys and walked right over to Tully.
She’d seen him heading her way and practically fainted. On the jukebox, “Stairway to Heaven” had been playing. Talk about romantic.
“I could get in trouble just for talking to you,” he said.
She tried to look mature and worldly as she said, “I like trouble.”
The smile he gave her was like nothing she’d ever seen before. For the first time in her life, she felt as beautiful as people always said she was.
“You wanna[40] come to the party with me on Friday?”
“I could make that work,” she said. It was a phrase she’d heard Erica Kane use on
“I’ll pick you up at ten.” He leaned closer. “Unless that’s past your curfew, little girl?”
“Seventeen Firefly Lane. And I don’t have a curfew.”
He smiled again. “I’m Pat, by the way.”
“I’m Tully.”
“Well, Tully, I’ll see you at ten.”
Tully still couldn’t believe it. For the past forty-eight hours she’d obsessed over this first real date. All the other times she’d gone out with boys it was in a group or to a school dance. This was totally different, and Pat was practically a man.
They could fall in love; she knew it. And then, with him holding her hand, she’d stop feeling so alone.
She finally made her clothes choice.
Low-rise, three-button bell-bottom jeans, a pink scoop-necked knit top that showed off her cleavage, and her favorite cork platforms. She spent almost an hour on her makeup, layering more and more on until she looked foxy. She couldn’t wait to show Pat how pretty she could be.
She grabbed a pack of her mom’s cigarettes and left her bedroom.
In the living room, Mom looked up blearily from her magazine. “Hey, iss almos’[42] ten o’clock. Where are you going?”
“This guy invited me to a party.”
“Is he here?”
“Oh. Cool. Don’t wake me up when you get home.”
“I won’t.”
Outside, it was dark and cold. The Milky Way stretched across the sky in a path of starlight.
She waited by her mailbox on the main road, moving from foot to foot to keep warm. Goose bumps pebbled her bare arms. The mood ring on her middle finger changed from green to purple. She tried to remember what that meant.
Across the street and up the hill, the pretty little farmhouse glowed against the darkness. Each window was like a pat of warm, melting butter. They were probably all at home, clustered around a big table, playing Risk[43]. She wondered what they’d do if she just visited one day, showed up on the porch and said hey.
She heard Pat’s car before she saw the headlights. At the roar of the engine, she forgot all about the family across the street and stepped into the road, waving.
His green Dodge Charger came to a stop beside her; the car seemed to pulse with sound, vibrate. She slid into the passenger seat. The music was so loud she knew he couldn’t hear what she said.
Grinning at her, Pat hit the gas and they were off like a rocket, blasting down the quiet country lane.
As they turned onto a gravel road, she could see the party going on below. Dozens of cars were parked in a huge circle in a pasture, with their headlights on. Bachman-Turner Overdrive’s “Taking Care of Business” blared from someone’s car radio. Pat parked over in the stand of trees along the fence line.
There were kids everywhere, gathered around the flames of the bonfire, standing beside the kegs of beer set up in the grass. Clear plastic cups littered the ground. Down by the barn, a group of guys were playing touch football. It was late in May, and summer was still a ways away, so most people were wearing coats. She wished she hadn’t forgotten hers.
Pat held her hand tightly, leading her through the crowd of couples toward the keg, where he poured two cups full.
Taking hers, she let him lead her down to a quiet spot just beyond the perimeter of cars. There, he spread his letterman’s jacket down on the ground and motioned for her to sit down.
“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you,” Pat said, sitting close to her, sipping his beer. “You’re the prettiest girl ever to live in this town. All the guys want you.”
“But you got me,” she said, smiling at him. It felt as if she were falling into his dark eyes.
He took a big drink of his beer, practically finishing it, then he set it down and kissed her.
Other guys had kissed her before; mostly they were fumbling, nervous attempts made during a slow dance. This was different. Pat’s mouth was like magic. She sighed happily, whispering his name. When he drew back, he was staring at her with pure, sunshiny love in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
He finished off his beer and got up. “I need more brew.”
They were in line at the keg when he frowned at her. “Hey, you aren’t drinking. I thought you were cool with partying.”
“I am.” She smiled nervously. She’d never really drank before, but he wouldn’t like her if she acted like a nerd, and she was desperate for him to want her. “Bottoms up,” she said, tilting the plastic tumbler to her lips and drinking the whole amount without stopping. When she finished, she couldn’t help burping and giggling.
“Far out,” he said, nodding, pouring two more beers.
The second one wasn’t so bad, and by the third beer Tully had completely lost her sense of taste. When Pat brought out a bottle of Annie Green Springs wine, she guzzled some of that, too. For almost an hour, they sat on his jacket, tucked close together, drinking and talking. She didn’t know any of the people he talked about, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the way he looked at her, the way he held her hand.
“Come on,” he whispered, “let’s dance.”
She felt woozy when she stood up. Her balance was off and she kept stumbling during their dance. Finally, she fell down altogether. Pat laughed, took her hand to pull her up, and led her to a dark, romantic spot in the trees. Giggling, she hobbled awkwardly behind him, gasping when he took her in his arms and kissed her.
It felt so good; made her blood feel tingly and hot. She pressed up against him like a cat, loving the way he was making her feel. Any minute he was going to draw back and look down at her and say,
Maybe Tully would even call him preppie when she said it back to him. Their song would be “Stairway to Heaven.” They’d tell people they met while—
His tongue slipped into her mouth, pressing hard, sweeping around like some kind of alien probe. Suddenly it didn’t feel good anymore, didn’t feel right. She tried to say,
His hands were everywhere: up her back, around her side, plucking at her bra, trying to undo it. She felt it come free with a sickening little pop. And then he was touching her boob.
“No…” she whimpered, trying to push his hands away. This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted love, romance, magic. Someone to love her. Not… this. “No, Pat, don’t—”
“Come on, Tully. You know you want it.” He pushed her back and she stumbled, fell to the ground hard, hitting her head. For a second, her vision blurred. When it cleared, he was on his knees, between her legs. He held both her hands in one of his, pinning her to the ground.
“That’s what I like,” he said, pushing her legs apart.
Shoving her top up, he stared down at her naked chest. “Oh, yeah…” He cupped one breast, tweaked her nipple hard. His other hand slipped into her pants, beneath her underwear.