"Andrews, V C - butterfly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Andrews V.C)

moment I didn't think she was going to ansv
She stared off toward the woods. A span
landed near us and studied us with curiosity.
"After I picked you out, I observed you, ai
tioning you in my own mind," she explained.
studied your walk, your gestures, and your p
ture to see if you were capable of being trainee
become the dancer I was to be, the dancer I can
longer even dream to be. Beyond a doubt I
convinced you can. Would you like that? We
you like to be a famous dancer, Janet?"
"A famous dancer? I've never thought ab
it," I said honestly. "I do like to dance. I J
music too," I added.
"Of course you do," she responded. "Some*
with your naturalgrace and rhythm has to I
music, and youll love to dance, too. You'll 1<
the power. l^ou'lL feel..." She closed her e
and took a de^ breath. When she opened her e
I saw (hat they were filled with an eerie lij
"You'll feel you can soar like a bird. When yew
good, and you will be good, you will lose your
in the ttsasic, Janet. It will carry you off, just a
16
BUTTERFLY
did for me so many, many times before I became
crippled."
"What happened to you?" I dared to ask. It was
obvious that talking about dancing made her
emotional, but the eerie look in her eyes made me
nervous and I wanted her to do something besides
stare at me so intently.
Mrs. Delorice lost her soft, dreamy smile and
gazed back at the building before turning to me
and replying.
"I was in a very bad car accident. Sanford lost
control of our vehicle one night when we were
returning from a party. He had a little too much
to drink, although he'll never ever admit to that.
He claimed he was blinded by the lights of a
tractor-trailer truck. We went off the road and hit
a tree. He was wearing his seat belt but I had
forgotten to put mine on. The door opened and I
was thrown from the car. My spine was very badly
damaged. I almost died."
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. .
Her face hardened, the lines deepening as shad
ows darkened her complexion.
"I'm past being sorry. I was sorry for years, but
being sorry for yourself doesn't help one bit,