Toris: переводы

→Patch’s dark eyes assessed me. For half a moment, I saw a string of emotions play out inside them. Exhaustion, worry, relief. He smelled of rust, stale cotton candy, and dank water, and I knew he’d been close by when Detective Basso found me in the heart of the fun house. He’d been right there the whole time, making sure I was safe.

→“Finally,” I breathed, flipping the cell open.

→I was pacing the walkway, waiting for Vee, when my cell phone chirped. Detective Basso’s name showed on the screen.

→“All right,” I told Vee. “Give me ten.”

→“Huh. Movie this. You know I’m not going to stop harassing you until you come.”

→“Tonight it is.”

→“Are you saying a movie is more fun than me?”

→“I’m going to put on my pj’s and watch a movie.”

→I HADN’T SLEPT IN OVER THIRTY-SIX HOURS, EXCEPT FOR very briefly Thursday evening, when Patch had met me inside my dream.

→When Rixon had told me Patch was the Black Hand, he’d planted a seed of doubt inside me that had swollen and blossomed with the worst kind of violation of trust, but it hadn’t choked me completely. Not yet. There was still a part of me that wanted to weep and shake my head adamantly at the idea that Patch could have killed my dad. I bit my lip hard, concentrating on the pain there, rather than remembering all the times he’d stroked my mouth with his finger, or kissed the curve of my ear. I couldn’t think about those things.

→“Hello?”

→My cell rang in my pocket and I whipped it out before the first ring had time to finish.

→“What are you really doing here?” Scott repeated, his voice significantly darker.

→I was left alone with Scott, and all my relief scattered.

→“The audition was fake, wasn’t it?”

→“She’s lying. I didn’t forget any sheet music.”

→Under the bed I found one aluminum bat, one baseball mitt, and one potted plant. I called Vee.

→“Scott is growing marijuana in here. Under his bed.”

→“I know,” I said. “Stay where you are. I’m going in.”

→“Did the archangels do this?”