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

other kids believed him.
Last night, like every,night, I had wished with
all my heart that I knew something about my past,
some fact, a name, anything that I could say to
Tommy and the others to prove that once upon a
time I did have a real Mommy and Daddy. I
wasnt a dwarf or a test tube baby, I was... well,^
I was like a butterfly--destined to be beautiful j
and soar high above the earth, high above trouNes|
and doubts, high above nasty little kids who made^
iun of other people just because they were smallert
and weaker. 5
6 ^ I
BUTTERFLY
It's just that I hadn't burst from my cocoon yet.
I was still a shy little girl, curled up in my quiet,
cozy world. I knew that someday I would have to
break free; to be braver, speak louder, grow taller,
but right now that seemed all too scary. The only
way I knew how to keep the taunts and teasing of
the other kids from bothering me was to stay in
my own little cocoon—where it was warm and
safe and no one could hurt me. But someday,
someday I would soar. Like a beautiful butterfly, I
would climb higher and higher, flying high above
them all. I'd show them.
Someday.
Janet!" I heard Mrs. McGuire hiss, and my eyes
snapped open. Her face was filled with fury, her
mouth twisted, her gray eyes wide and lit up like
firecrackers. "Sit up," she whispered through her
clenched teeth, and then she forced a smile and
turned to the couple standing behind her. "Right
this way, Mr. and Mrs; Delorice," she said m a
much nicer tone of voice.
I took a deep breath and held it, my fluttering
heart suddenly sounding like a kettle drum in my
chest. Mrs. McGuire stepped behind me so that
the Delorices could get a good look at me. Mr.
Delorice was tall and thin with dark hair and
sleepy eyes. Mrs. Delorice sat in a wheelchair and
was pretty, with hair the color of a red sunset. She
had diminutive facial features like my own, but
even more perfectly proportioned. Her hair
floated around her shoulders in soft undulating
V. C. ANDREWS
waves. There was nothing sickly or frail looking
about her, despite her wheelchair. Her complexion
was rich like peaches and cream, her lips the
shade of fresh strawberries.