Читать книгу The Night Flyer's Handbook 2-Book Bundle - Philippa Dowding - Страница 29

It takes a while for me to get ready. I try on too many pairs of pants and leggings with the new green shirt. I try on so many that I actually work up a sweat, but I finally decide that I should wear the newish black leggings I got at Christmas. I put on some deodorant (which is the newest thing I own) and pull on the green shirt.

I brush my hair out straight, which is tricky because when there’s even a breath of humidity it curls in giant waves, so I look like a little kid. Mental note. I’ll have to keep bugging Mom for that hair straightener. Now she’s given me my shirt, I guess there’s room for a new present in time for my birthday.

Ever hopeful.

I slip downstairs quietly and slide my feet into Mom’s expensive sandals. I take a peek at myself in the hallway mirror.

I’m not sure what I expect to see, but there’s definitely something different about me. I’m certain that I look a lot older and a lot more refined in my green shirt. It’s sure not like wearing torn old jeans and beat-up T-shirts, although I have no problem with those most of the time.

At that moment the front door opens and the Chrissies run in, armed with squirt guns. My mom runs in behind them, and before they can get any ideas she grabs the guns off them.

They both stand stock still and stare at me with their mouths open. I swear I can hear their little brains working together to say something smart, but they surprise me and stay quiet.

Christine speaks first. “You look pretty, Gwennie. I like that shirt.” My brother just stares at me and finally says, “What happened to you?”

It could have been much worse. I actually think they may turn into real human beings one day. I smile at them both. They lose interest pretty fast, though, those two. Once I smile and don’t react, they wander away to watch TV. Not reacting is a new trick I’ve discovered when dealing with them, and it seems to work in my favour every time.

My mom is not so easy to shake, though. She is standing between me and the door for a few moments. She says, “You look really great, Gwen. Be home by ten, get someone to walk you or call if you need me to pick you up. Have fun!”

That’s it. I head out the door and into the early evening.

I’m Gwennie Golden. I’m a Night Flyer, and I’m going to my first real party.