"Replica04 - Perfect Girls - Kaye, Marilyn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kaye Marilyn)

Eric spoke in a low voice. "You know, we don't have to do everything on her list."
"You have other ideas?" Amy asked him.
"Well, I was thinking . . . maybe we could take one of those horse-drawn carriage rides my mother was talking about. Just you and me."
"Really?" Amy was more than pleased. "That would be great."
"What are you two whispering about?" chirped a voice from the aisle.
Amy's smile faded. "You're supposed to be in your seat, Jeanine."
"I'm on my way," Jeanine sang out. "See you in New York!"
Eric watched Jeanine prance back to her seat and wrinkled his nose. "She's not going to do everything with us, is she?"
"I don't know," Amy said mournfully. "I hope not, but your mother might insist that we take her around."
"Maybe we could dump her on Tasha."
"I couldn't do that to my best friend," Amy reprimanded him. But she understood how Eric felt. It had been a blow when they'd learned that Jeanine would be a part of their contingent. Her parents couldn't come to New York with her, and because Jeanine and Tasha car-pooled to gymnastics with Mrs. Morgan, it was easy for Mrs. Bryant to call and ask if they'd be able to take Jeanine.
Amy sincerely doubted that Jeanine wanted to hang out with them, either—no, she amended that. Jeanine would probably love to get some time alone with Eric. And although Amy knew that Eric had no interest in Jeanine, she didn't particularly want to give Jeanine any opportunities to change his mind about her.
As the plane began its descent, it occurred to Amy that with her physical strength, she could easily put Jeanine out of the picture. Not that she would ever seriously hurt Jeanine, but a simple handshake could lead to some broken bones for the nasty girl. Which would have the added benefit of making her unable to write an essay.
Amy wasn't thinking seriously, of course. But even so . . . it was lucky for Jeanine that Amy had ethics.


4

Tasha had never stayed in a hotel room this nice before. It wasn't just a room—it was a suite, two bedrooms connected by a living room. At the window, she looked out onto the New York street from twenty stories above. Then she checked her tourist guide.
"Did you know," she said, "that there are twelve thousand yellow taxicabs on the streets of New York?"
There was no response. Tasha liked learning interesting little facts, but no one was listening. Her mother was directing the bellboy who had brought up the suitcases. Her father was studying the contents of the mini-refrigerator. Eric was examining the card on the TV that listed the movies available. And Amy was engrossed in reading the material from the National Essay Competition that had been given to her when they checked in.
Tasha went back to her guide. "Did you know that there are a hundred and twenty museums in New York? We're here for seven days; that makes . . ." She tried to do some mental math.
Amy responded. "Approximately seventeen point one four three museums per day."
Eric looked at her in alarm. "No way I'm going to a hundred and twenty museums," he declared.
"No, I guess we'll have to pick and choose," Tasha said.
"Tasha, you and Amy will take the room with the two single beds," Mrs. Morgan announced. "Your father and I will take the other bedroom."
"What about me?" Eric asked.
"You'll be in here," she told him. "This sofa pulls out into a bed."
"Whew, that's a relief," Eric commented. "For a minute I thought you were going to tell me I had to share a room with Jeanine."
Tasha and Amy began to laugh, but Mrs. Morgan shot him a withering look. "Don't talk nonsense. Jeanine has her own room right across the hall."
Now Tasha and Amy breathed sighs of relief. Tasha had been afraid that the three girls might have to share a bedroom. But she should have guessed that Jeanine's wealthy parents would provide her with a room of her very own.
"Are all the essay contestants staying at this hotel, Amy?" Mrs. Morgan asked her.
Amy was still going over the official materials. "That's what it says here. We're all supposed to meet at dinner tonight, and we can bring our families. That means you guys can all come." She looked at the schedule again. "It's the Blue Room on the twenty-second floor. Wow, it says here there are a hundred and fifteen kids in this competition."
"Are you sure this dinner isn't just for the competition participants?" Mr. Morgan asked.
"Nope, it says right here, all family members accompanying the participants are invited to join. And you guys are my family this week."
"And Jeanine's family," Mrs. Morgan reminded her. As soon as her back was turned, Tasha and Amy automatically made silent gagging motions.
"A hundred and fifteen contestants plus families," Mr. Morgan mused. "I hope it's a big room."
It was. The Blue Room turned out to be a ballroom, very fancy, with elaborate chandeliers hanging from high ceilings. At least fifty round tables filled the space, all beautifully set with flowers and white linen. A card bearing a number stood in each floral centerpiece. At one end of the room was a long table, above which hung a banner that read WELCOME NATIONAL ESSAY FINALISTS.
"Do I look okay?" Amy asked Tasha anxiously.
"Perfect," Tasha assured her. They hadn't been sure how people would dress for this dinner, but they wanted to save their best outfits for the awards banquet, so they were wearing their second-best outfits. For Amy, that was a long flowered skirt with a pink silk T-shirt. Looking at the other kids wandering around the ballroom, Tasha decided Amy fit in just fine. She did too, with her pale green shift dress and matching cardigan.
Jeanine, naturally, outshone them both—at least, in her own mind, Tasha believed. She wore a very short black tank dress made out of shiny material that gleamed under the chandeliers. Tasha had noticed how her mother had pursed her lips in disapproval when Jeanine had appeared at the door of their suite, but since Jeanine wasn't her daughter, Mrs. Morgan hadn't said anything. Tasha wouldn't have been allowed out of her room wearing a dress like that. Personally, she thought it was much too dressy.
Amy apparently thought so too. "Jeanine, where did you get that dress?" she asked.
"Oh, you wouldn't know this store, Amy," Jeanine said, giving her a condescending smile. "It's over in Beverly Hills." She smoothed her skirt. "The salesgirl said it gave me real New York attitude."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tasha inquired.
The snotty smile remained firmly in place. "That's not easy to explain. It has to do with, you know, being sophisticated. Acting bored, like you've seen everything before." Jeanine strolled away from their group and disappeared in the crowd.
"Where is she going?" Amy whispered to Tasha.
"Who knows, who cares?" Tasha replied. "She probably thinks she's too sophisticated to be seen with us."
Amy nodded fervently. "I can't believe she wants to look bored. What's cool about that?"
"Nothing," Tasha said. "She isn't pulling it off anyway. I've never seen her more excited."
A beaming man wearing a badge approached them. "Good evening! I'm George Drexel, cochairman of the National Essay Competition." He shook hands with the Morgan parents, who introduced themselves, Eric, and the girls. Mr. Drexel shook hands with them, too, but he held on to Amy's a little longer. "Congratulations on making it this far, young lady," he told her. "And good luck! Now, if you'll go over to that table under the banner, you'll find a name tag for yourself, and a number indicating what table you and your guests have been assigned."