"Leslie What - Threesome" - читать интересную книгу автора (What Leslie)

Threesome
Leslie What


Cara was sitting on the floor beside the bed when a barrage of green lights flashed from somewhere
outside the dormer window. A whirring sound, like an insanely broken sprinkler, only louder, was her
first clue that something terrible was about to happen. Her best friends, Kamala and Jessica, sat
side-by-side on Cara’s bed and pored over a magazine. Cara heard a car screech to a halt and heard
dogs and cats bark, then silence. At first she thought it was the Rapture, but that didn’t explain the green
flashing lights. “Ohmygod!” Cara said. “I know what it is!” Aliens had landed and had started to round
up all of the humans. “But we’re still here,” Cara said. “Isn’t that weird?”

Kamala and Jessica glared down at her from the bed. They were reading her copy ofSeventeen because
two could share a magazine, whereas three could not. But since it belonged to her, Cara consoled herself
knowing she could read it later. The reason she was angry had nothing to do with the stupid magazine. It
was just that when her two best friends swarmed into her room, they had formed a clique on her bed and
let her know she wasn’t invited to join.

Cara, just thirteen, was the frail sort, small-boned, with translucent, almost blue skin. She had lost enough
weight in the last two years, since starting middle school, that one might have described her as paper-thin.
She had not yet started her period, which both frightened her and made her a target of pity.

At almost fourteen, Jessica was the oldest. She was muscular and short, with a head shaped like a
boulder. Her teeth and skin were perfect, on her, everyone agreed, a waste. Why did all the ugly girls
have good teeth and complexions while all the cute girls had uneven skin tone and overbites? Because
when you were ugly, it didn’t matter if you were even uglier, but when you were cute it was so easy to
fuck up. All it took was a zit or a mole, whereas on an ugly girl, who would even notice?

Whereas Kamala, in the middle, at thirteen and one half, was tall and slender, with steel-hard and long
dancer’s legs. Kamala was fast and sharp-tongued. She could make Cara cry, which she did, as often as
possible.

Cara heard disgusting sucking and screaming noises outside. “At first I thought it was the Rapture,” Cara
admitted. “Then I figured out it was aliens.”

“Whatare you talking about?” said Kamala.

“Look,” Jessica said. “We don’t want to make fun of your beliefs . . .”

“We don’t?” said Kamala. “I do.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Jessica. “She’s just being a bitch. It’s cool that you’re religious. It’s cool that
you worry about Rapture and the end of the world. But you have to be tolerant of us and our beliefs and
we don’t think the world is going to end.”

“I don’t have any beliefs,” Kamala said.

“It shows,” said Jessica.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Jessica began, but stopped.