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.‘I don’t think I’ve ever asked,’ he said.‘But what makes you think he’s from another dimension?’‘It’s not what I think.It’s what he believes,’ I replied.I gave Dad the whole story.I have an excellent memory, so I even threw in p-branes and M-theory and multiverses.And as I talked the most miraculous thing happened.I’d assumed Dad would be as baffled by my words as I was by his.But something passed over his expression.It was.well, it wasn’t understanding.I don’t think so.It was as if a switch had been flicked, a connection made, a live wire brushing and sparking against another wire.Hope lit his eyes.He grabbed a pad from his desk and made notes as I spoke.Someone writing down what you are saying is very distracting, so I dribbled to a stop.Dad didn’t stop writing, however.His pen raced across the page.Finally, he slumped back in his chair, a grin plastered on his face.‘Candice,’ he breathed.‘You are a genius.’‘Only a bit,’ I said.‘Why?’‘Because.because you are.’I didn’t find his words convincing, but decided not to point this out.Anyway, Dad’s face suddenly creased.It looked like he was on the verge of crying.Then he slipped off the verge and did.UIS FOR UNDERSTANDINGMum made breakfast.Bacon and eggs and grilled mushrooms.She moved around the kitchen with purpose, a defiant smile on her face.I watched from the corner of my eyes and every time she passed through a beam of sunlight arrowing through the kitchen window her face twitched in pain.But the smile stayed stuck.She had it pinned and nothing was going to shift it.Dad set the table and we ate together, though Mum didn’t eat much.She nibbled on a piece of toast and narrowed her eyes.Dad was also somewhere else.I could tell by his face.He asked about school, but as I replied his face glazed over.He’d nod occasionally, but he wasn’t listening.He was lost in a place where no one could follow.Chasing a dream.‘I’m doing biography research in English today,’ I said.‘I’ve been paired with Jen Marshall.We have to interview each other.’Dad nodded, but Mum put down her toast.‘Isn’t she the little.’ She was searching for the right word.Or maybe an acceptable word for breakfast conversation.‘.madam you told us about? The one with tattoos and body piercing?’‘That’s her.’Mum picked up the toast, looked at it and put it back on the plate.‘She doesn’t sound like someone you’d have much in common with, Pumpkin.’‘Au contraire,’ I replied.‘Jen Marshall has many wonderful qualities.I am confident we will become bosom buddies, or, as Jen would say, BFFs – Best Friends Forever.’Mum seemed dubious, but that might have been the toast, which obviously didn’t inspire her with confidence.Dad nodded a couple of times.Then he broke from his trance.‘Could you ask Douglas Benson to come round for dinner tonight?’ he said.‘I want to have a chat with him.I’ll cook,’ he added hastily in response to a frown from Mum, who had obviously not been consulted about this plan.‘He has an appointment with destiny at six-thirty every night,’ I said.‘But he might be able to come round after that.I will ask.’Dad gave another dreamy smile, which I took as a cue to head to school.Miss Cowie took us to the library because the English classroom was not suitable for thirteen pairs of students talking intimately.She suggested we sit on the floor or down one of the library aisles so we could have privacy.I found this exciting and proof that Miss Cowie was an inspirational teacher, prepared to think outside the square [I’ve never been convinced there is a square that most people think inside, but so many people talk about it, it must be true.Why not a circle?].Jen Marshall gazed around the library as if seeing it for the first time, which, it turned out, was true.Miss C organised us into our pairs.Jen looked me up and down, chewed her gum and rolled her eyes.For one horrible moment I thought she might have choked on her gum again, but it was okay.She just wasn’t impressed with me.She looked over at her friends longingly, glanced at me and rolled her eyes again.She is a terrific eye-roller.Her friends giggled, pointed to their own heads and made little circles in the air.Jen rolled her eyes again.It was like a mime show and I was enjoying it, but time was marching on.‘We should start, Jen,’ I said.‘Where would you like to sit?’‘Anywhere away from you, Essen,’ she replied.‘Not possible, I’m afraid,’ I said.‘What about down this aisle [aisle B, reference section]? You could talk to me and your friends won’t see.’She chewed her gum and shifted her weight onto one hip.She looked elegant, apart from the gum-chewing, which caused her mouth to open and close like Earth-Pig Fish’s.It wasn’t very becoming.If our interview went well, I thought I might mention it.Jen is concerned about making good impressions.‘Whaddayaonabout?’ she asked.‘Well,’ I said.‘It is obvious that being seen with me is embarrassing for you.Talking to me must be even more embarrassing.If we go down this aisle, we could chat, get the assignment done and your friends would never know you’d said anything to me at all.’Jen shifted her weight onto her other hip and chewed faster.Then she glanced at her friends, rolled her eyes and took off down aisle B.I followed.Jen sat on the carpet and curled her legs beneath her.She has nice legs.Hers are shapely whereas mine are thin and stick-like [though I suppose that’s a shape in itself].They are practical, just not pleasing on the eyes.‘Tell me about yourself, Jen,’ I said.She shrugged and glanced up and down the aisle.We were alone.‘What’s to say?’ she said.‘Tell me about your family.’‘Mother, drunk a lotta the time.Dad, God knows where.Brother who’s a retard.No offence.What’s to say?’‘Doesn’t sound like a happy family life,’ I ventured.She looked at me, properly this time, and didn’t roll her eyes.This was progress.‘Yeah.So what? I bet you have one of those families that you see on TV.Everyone like all loving and drooling over school reports and going on holidays and all that crap [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]