“I think I saw a pelican when we crossed the bridge to Wrightsville Beach,” her mom commented with forced lightness.
“Gee, that’s swell. Maybe you should call the Crocodile Hunter.”
“He died,” Jonah said, his voice floating up from the backseat, the sounds mingling with those from
his Game Boy. Her ten-year-old pain-in-the-butt brother was addicted to the thing. “Don’t you
remember?” he went on. “It was really sad.”
“Of course I remember.”
“You didn’t sound like you remembered.”
“Well, I did.”
“Gee, that’s swell. Maybe you should call the Crocodile Hunter.”
“He died,” Jonah said, his voice floating up from the backseat, the sounds mingling with those from
his Game Boy. Her ten-year-old pain-in-the-butt brother was addicted to the thing. “Don’t you
remember?” he went on. “It was really sad.”
“Of course I remember.”
“You didn’t sound like you remembered.”
“Well, I did.”
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25.08.2011 в 23:37- Кажется, я видела пеликана, когда мы ехали через мост к Райтсвиль Бич, - заметила мама натянуто-непринужденно.
- Ух ты, вот это круть! Может, надо было позвать Охотника за крокодилами?
- Он погиб, - отозвался Джона с заднего сиденья.
Его голос смешался со звуками, доносящимися из игровой приставки: десятилетний брат, настоящая заноза в заднице, помешался на этой штуковине.
- А ты не разве не помнишь? – продолжал он. – Было грустно.
- Конечно, помню.
- А говоришь так, будто не помнишь.
- Нет, помню.
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29.08.2011 в 11:59