Elliona: переводы

→Just then, her phone buzzed. A text from Mr. Cole:

→Luce ducked back into the building and slipped out the rarely used rear door to trek across the grounds to her dorm. She definitely could not deal with goodbyes right now.

→Around her, students hurried out of class and zigzagged toward the cars, wheeling suitcases in their wake. Dawn and Jasmine hugged goodbye before Jasmine got into a town car and Dawn’s brothers made room for her in the back of an SUV. The two of them were only splitting up for a few hours.

→After the longest, most mind-numbing PBS special on cell division ever seen, Luce walked out of her biology class, down the stairs of the main school building, and outside, where she was surprised to see the parking lot completely packed. Parents, older siblings, and more than a few chauffeurs formed one long line of vehicles the likes of which Luce hadn’t seen since the car-pool lane at her middle school in Georgia.

→Around the terrace, time had marched on; most of the students were heading to class. The scholarship waiters were hurrying to bus the plates. At a table closest to the ocean, Steven was drinking coffee alone. His glasses were folded up and resting on the table. His eyes found Luce’s, and he held her gaze for a long time, so long that - even after she stood up to go to class - his intense, watchful expression stuck with her. Which was probably his point.

→She thought about the horror on his face the night they’d argued on the beach. She was stunned when he’d been so quick to ask: Are we breaking up? Like he suspected that was a possibility. Like she hadn’t swallowed whole his entire insane story about their endless love when he’d told her under the peach trees at Sword & Cross. She had swallowed it, in one single believing gulp, ingesting all its fissures, too - the jagged pieces that made no sense but begged her to believe them at the time. Now, every day, another of them gnawed at her insides. She could feel the biggest one rising up in her throat:

→"I don’t claim to be in the business of making you feel better, I’m just trying to illustrate a point. For all Daniel’s annoying aloofness - and there’s plenty of it - the guy’s clearly devoted. The real question here is: Are you? As far as Daniel knows, you could drop him as soon as someone else comes along. Miles has come along. And he’s obviously a great guy. A little sappy for my taste, but - "

→"I wasn’t being sarcastic, Luce. So maybe, I don’t know, Daniel’s been involved with other people. It’s all pretty nebulous. The take-home message, like I said before, is that there was never a question in his mind that you were the only one that mattered."

→She didn’t even know what Daniel wanted from her - other than to torment her, the way she’d seen him torment those other versions of her in the Announcers. Or, as he put it, loved so many versions of her. Tonight all she wanted from him was to be left alone.

→"See?" His smile broadened. "If you hadn’t been grounded, we never would have known. It’s really pretty out here, Luce; you should come out. You’re not scared of heights or anything?"

→When he turned to face her, the drawn look on his face was one of absolute agony. As if Luce had just ripped his heart out. He bent his knees, unfurled his wings, and took off into the night.

→Daniel. Crouched, only half hidden from view, just feet away from where she and Miles had kissed. His back was to her. His head was hanging.

→But instead of the stars and trees and crashing waves, Luce’s eyes fixed on something else behind one of the roof’s many chimneys. Something white and billowing. An iridescent pair of wings.

→Alone, she traced her lips where Miles’s had just been. The next time she saw Daniel, would he be able to tell? Her head hurt from all the ups and downs of the day, and she wanted to crawl into bed. As she slipped back through the window into her room, she turned one last time to take in the view, to remember how everything had looked on the night when so many things had changed.

→Luce nodded, already battling a rolling wave of confusion. Miles squeezed her hand, then took off in the other direction, bounding over the sloping shingled roof, back toward his side of the dorm.

→Miles pulled away, looking happy and sad at the same time. "So, goodnight." He turned away, almost like he was going to bolt back toward his room. But then he turned back. And took her hand. "If you ever feel like things aren’t working out, you know, with ..." He looked up at the sky. "I’m here. Just wanted you to know."

→Luce chewed her lip. Now she was playing dumb with herself, which was never a good sign. The truth: Miles liked her. And she liked him, too. Look at the guy. With his ocean-blue eyes and the little chuckle he gave every time he broke into a smile. Plus, he was hands down the nicest person she had ever met.

→"You’re probably wondering why I came over," Miles said, which made Luce realize they’d both been silent for a while. "I started to tell you this earlier, but - I didn’t - I’m not sure - "

→Outside, the sky was an explosion of stars. They glittered in the black night like Ms. Fisher’s diamonds - but clearer, brighter, even more beautiful. From here, the redwood canopy east of the school looked dense and dark and foreboding; to the west were the ceaselessly churning water and the distant glow of the bonfire blazing down on the blustery beach. Luce had noticed these things before from the ledge. Ocean. Forest. Sky. But all the other times she’d been out here, Daniel had consumed her focus. Almost blinded her, to the point where she’d never really taken in the scene.

→When she came back, Miles was holding out a hand for her to step through the window. She could make up an excuse, something lame about not breaking Francesca’s rules. Or she could just take his hand, warm and strong and safe, and let herself glide through. She could forget Daniel for just a moment.