My Ice Prince - стр. 44
– Is this your real hair? – Suddenly the neighbour asked.
She had never seen me with my hair loose before, for I always put it up in a high knot or ponytail so that it would not get in the way when I walked.
– Yes, of course» I replied, expecting her to admire it like everyone else.
– I can imagine how long it takes to dry them. Have you ever thought about getting a short haircut?
That question shattered everything I'd ever thought about Mary. I swear no one had ever said anything like that to me before; they'd all admired me and told me never to touch my hair with scissors. And she suggested I get a short haircut!
– What? Why? – My surprise was unrivalled.
– I could tell from the length of your hair that you don't cut it very often» Mary said. – I think you'd look good with fringes, but not bushy fringes, and something like a bob.
The last time I cut my hair was six years ago, when my mum accidentally cut off a huge chunk of it at the root when she was trying to untangle a knot with scissors, so I had to cut all my hair off, and I went around with a short guyish haircut, resentful of the world.
– No, my hair is something I'll never touch» I said firmly to Mary's suggestion, threw my things on the bed, and went to the wardrobe for clothes.
– But you've got to change! Okay, if you can't get fat because of your allergies, but your hair will always grow back! – Mary exclaimed unhappily.
– I think there's a fire in the kitchen» I said, suddenly smelling a foul smoke.
– My cutlets!
Mary ran into the kitchen, and I laughed quietly: people are so funny! When something burns on the cooker, they run just as fast as us vampires.
I pulled out an old pair of jeans, warm socks (I don't know how warm they were, but they were pretty thick), and a long, big T-shirt with the name of some football club on it (it had been given to me by Martin, who had ordered it online and found out it was too small for him, and after that it was mine, but I only wore it at home). I put my hair up in a high ponytail, put my things neatly in the cupboard and went into the kitchen to chat to Mary.
– Why are you home today? – I asked, sitting down by the window so I wouldn't interfere with my friend's cooking.
The whole house smelled of roasting meat.
– I took a day off because I wasn't feeling well, probably because of the weather» Mary said, and then turned to me with her arms at her sides. – By the way, mamselle, don't you eat anything at all? The tomatoes, cucumbers and apples are all there: I count them every morning!
«Well, why does she do that? Is she bored with her life?» – I thought wistfully.
– I'm eating! – I could only say, wondering what clever excuse I could come up with.
– Yeah, I can see you eating! – Mary grumbled unhappily.
– I am eating» I said again, but more insistently. – It's just in small portions, so you think…
– I don't believe it.
I was taken aback.
– Well, that's your business! I'm not going to prove you wrong! – I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest.
Mary turned away and started fiddling with the frying pan.
– Did you take offence? – I asked anxiously, not knowing how to interpret her behaviour.
– No, I'm watching a soap opera» Mary said. – It's my favourite. It's the third time I've watched it.