ne4to90: переводы

→I was tired of the formalities and needed to fix things before they escalated further. I leaned forward in my chair. “You know what else isn’t appropriate? A thirty-year-old guy—because that’s how old he was, no matter how young and cool they were trying to be —grabbing a fifteen-year-old girl.

→Mr. Redding looked a tiny bit sympathetic—but not enough to change his mind. “I’m sure that must have been hard, but it was hardly reason for you to act in that way. Injuring three people and damaging expensive audio visual equipment were in no way appropriate responses.” Understatement.

→“Just looking out for you, sis. Don’t
want you ending up with some deadbeat. Believe me, I’m an expert on that kind of
thing.”

→“Realy?” I asked, once we were safely inside
Latte. “You couldn’t have just said ‘nice to
meet you,’ and let it go?” Adrian pushed back
the passenger seat, managing the most loun-
ging position possible while stil wearing a seatbelt.

→Trey elbowed him sharply. “This is the part where you ask for her number.” Brayden nodded, though he didn’t look like he appreciated the elbowing. “Right, right.” He puled a cel phone out of his pocket. “Is it Sydney with a y or i?” Trey roled his eyes. “What? I’m guessing the former, but as nam- ing conventions become increasingly untra- ditional, you never know. I just want to get it right in my phone.” “I would have done the same thing,” I agreed. I then told him my phone number. He looked up and smiled at me. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

→I frowned at that. Those experiments and the amazing potential they represented to prevent the creation of more Strigoi were vastly important. Dimitri and Sonya knew that and were dedicated to the cause—especially on weekends, when Adrian and Eddie didn’t have classes—which made this news so puzzling. My own work ethic had a hard time understanding why there’d be no research happening on a Sunday.

→I scoffed. “Rose always joked about your ‘Zen Master Wisdom.’ Am I getting a taste of it? If so, I can see why she was helpless against your charms.”

→“Sometimes it’s not a bad thing to make sure you’re okay too. You might find it actually helps others.”

→Eddie was intensely dedicated too. Adrian sometimes called him mini-Dimitri. Although Eddie was going to high school and completing assignments just like me, I knew he’d drop any homework in an instant to help out with the greater good. I could think of only one thing that would take precedence over helping find a “cure” for being Strigoi. My heart suddenly raced.

→My frown deepened. “What conflict could Eddie have?”

→“Partially,” said Dimitri. “We’re also missing our control subject. Eddie said he had some conflict and couldn’t make it.”

→“Thanks for the ride,” I added. “I could’ve called a taxi.” Even as I spoke, I knew my words were as useless as when I’d told him he didn’t need to help me with my bag.

→There was also an energy around him that you couldn’t help but be affected by. He was always on alert, always ready for the unexpected. I’d never seen his guard down. He was constantly ready to strike. He was dangerous, no question, and I was comforted that he was on our side. I always felt safe around him—and a little wary.

→That was only one of the many striking things about Dimitri. His looks alone were certainly enough to make many halt in their tracks. He had dark brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail, with matching brown eyes that seemed mysterious and alluring. He was tall, too—about 6’7”—rivaling some Moroi. Dhampirs were indistinguishable from humans to me, so even I could admit that he scored pretty high on the attractiveness scale.

→“I should be so lucky,” I said, getting into the passenger side. Even if I’d been wide awake, I knew Dimitri would’ve taken my suitcase anyway. That’s how he was, a lost remnant of chivalry in the modern world, ever-ready to help others.

→By the time I landed in Palm Springs at seven the next morning, it was painfully obvious that I had surpassed my body’s limits to subsist on caffeine. I was too exhausted. No amount of coffee would help anymore. I nearly fell asleep at the airport’s curb, waiting for my ride. When it arrived, I didn’t notice until I heard my name called.

→Typical. I laughed out loud and immediately felt guilty. I shouldn’t have responded. This was my personal e-mail account, but if the Alchemists ever felt the need to investigate me, they’d have no qualms about accessing it. This kind of thing was damning, and I deleted the e-mail exchange—not that it mattered. No data was ever truly lost.

→“Thank you, Miss Sage,” said Gray Bun, finishing up her notes. “You’ve been extremely helpful, and we’ll take this into consideration as we make our decision. You may go now. If you step into the hall, you’ll find Zeke waiting to take you out.”

→It bothered me and again made me wonder who the real monsters were in all of this. The group I’d left back in Palm Springs was a hundred times more moral than Keith.

→Silence met me, save for the frantic scrawling of pens as the clipboard Alchemists made their notes. I dared a glance at Tom, afraid of what I’d see after completely trashing his son. To my astonishment, Tom looked…relieved. And grateful. In fact, he seemed on the verge of tears. Catching my eye, he mouthed, Thank you. Amazing. I had just proclaimed Keith to be a horrible human being in every way possible. But none of that mattered to his father, so long as I didn’t accuse Keith of being in league with vampires. I could’ve called Keith a murderer, and Tom would have probably still been grateful if it meant Keith wasn’t chummy with the enemy.