Vishenkaa: переводы

→To ensure her mother would see exactly where she was—and where her sister wasn’t—she casually knocked another plate off the shelf. As it fell with a loud, hard-to-ignore crash, Courtney pushed the screen door open and watched as the girls, who were now arguing loudly, fell silent and looked up.

→A few seconds later, the opening bars of an Elliott Smith song blared.

→She remained stock-still as whoever it was padded down the hall. A figure appeared in her doorway, and she almost screamed.

→Her head whipped up, and she shoved the diary back under the mattress. Only an hour had passed. Had they returned already? Had they figured it out?

→Slam.

→The four girls in the yard popped into her head. Spencer, Aria, Emily, and that last girl, the chubby one. She ran to Ali’s fifth-grade yearbook and scoured the pages. Hanna—that was her name. They hadn’t signed her yearbook—none of them knew Ali well. Perfect.

→But when she got to the end, the fizzy feeling in her stomach had intensified. The diary was all about Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe, and it made a lot of shadowy references to secrets and inside jokes that Courtney would have no way of knowing. There was no way she could remain friends with Naomi and Riley—she’d have to ditch them and form a new clique. Only, who?

→Her gaze scanned Ali’s black-and-white bedspread, the cutout magazine ads and pictures of her friends on the walls, the bulging closet full of clothes. She darted to Ali’s bed and slid her hand under the mattress. Ali’s diary was buried precisely in the middle, just as it had been yesterday. She sat down, opened to where she’d left off, and read.

→She walked through the silent rooms, her sister’s wedges clomping on the floor.

→“Seriously, I know someone’s there,” she said. “But if you’ve come for my flag, it’s gone. Someone already stole it.”

→It wasn’t even that difficult: Courtney had been the queen bee of a group of popular girls at the Radley, scoring the best table in the day room, controlling what shows they watched on TV, putting on the best performance for the ward’s talent show. And even before she’d gone to the Radley, kids had loved her—more than her sister, in fact. People felt at ease with Courtney; they picked her first for kickball, they teamed up with her for art projects, she got more valentines than anyone else in the class. Ali, however, sometimes put people off. She was too pushy, too intense. She yelled at people when no adults were watching, pouted when she didn’t get the best gift in the Secret Santa exchange, and once even kicked a girl’s brand-new kitten that she’d brought to show-and-tell. Yes, Ali was beautiful—a teensy bit more beautiful than Courtney, in fact—but she wasn’t the most-loved. It was why she’d worked so hard to get Courtney out of the picture. She wanted to be the one and only star.

→Soon enough, her mother would appear from wherever she was and discover the mess. She would call to her two daughters to ask what had happened. One would appear from upstairs. What if the other daughter was outside, talking to a few girls from school? It wouldn’t be Courtney out there, after all—she didn’t know anyone. She wasn’t even allowed outside.

→The silence after the crash was deafening.

→The whole thing wobbled, and a platter with the New York City skyline on the top shelf shook precariously. Jason lunged forward, but it was too late. The plate shattered on the wood floor.

→Jason grabbed it back from her and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Ali, just let it go.”

→Ali’s gaze darted to something in Jason’s pocket. The shiny blue fabric peeked out. She snatched it out halfway, her eyes widening at the wishing well that was now wedged between the manga frog and the bubble-letter awesome. Her eyes narrowed on Courtney. “Did you draw this?”

→Jason looked back and forth between the girls, his gaze lingering on their matching outfits. “Well, yeah, Ali, but—”

→Ali glowered at Jason, who had just reappeared in the doorway. “Is this true? You knew she had my flag?”

→“It’s gone,” Courtney said. “I gave it to Jason. And he doesn’t want to give it back to you.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but this version sounded better.

→Courtney felt the old fire rise up inside, the one that had gotten her in trouble before. Although she tried her hardest to suppress it, something broke loose. “Guess what,” she spat. “I do have your Time Capsule flag.”