Unwritten Books 2 - Fathom Five Read Free Page B

want?”
    “I suppose.” They paused as Luigi cut in, delivering drinks. Rosemary sipped her soda. Peter noticed that she was not wearing her usual bulky grey cardigan, but a tighter, fuzzy green sweater that complemented her eyes, among other things.
    She sighed, breaking him from his reverie. “It’s not like I have any other dates.”
    Peter frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
    “Well, look at me. Nobody’s lined up to date me.”
    Peter snorted. Rosemary looked hurt. “It’s not that funny.”
    “No, it’s just wrong,” said Peter. “You’d be a great date.”
    Now Rosemary snorted. “Come on. I’m a geek. I’m a short geek. I’m a short fat geek with glasses —”
    “You’re not fat!”
    “What? You’re not going to argue with the rest of it?”
    She rubbed her right palm idly. Peter saw the blue spot like a birthmark at the centre of it, the only sign of the adventure they’d shared three years before when she’d dipped her hand in the Sea of Ink and faced down dozens of hostile characters.
    I’ve faced death with her, he thought. I can face telling her the truth. Can’t I?
    “Look ....” He took a deep breath, then the plunge. “You’re pretty, okay? You’re just the right size, and you have nice cheeks. I like your glasses and the way that one corner of your mouth is higher than the other. You’ve got nice ....” He suddenly realized he was cupping his hands out in front of him, and that Rosemary was staring at them in horror. “Um … ears! And I like the way you blush, and how you’re so serious when you’re reading and you don’t think I’m watching you, and … and ...”
    He stopped when he saw Rosemary giving him a look that was equal parts pleasure, shock, embarrassment, and panic. And tipping towards panic. The noise level in the restaurant had dropped several decibels.
    He sat on his hands. “And I think you’re pretty. Yeah. That’s what I think.”
    Rosemary flushed and looked away. “Thanks,” she said quietly. She curled up into herself for a moment, and then gave Peter a quick look. “Really?”
    “Really.”
    Silence followed. They fidgeted. Finally, Peter coughed and said, “Nice place here.”
    “Yes!” Rosemary clutched at the line like a drowning swimmer. “It’s been here as long as I can remember. Luigi always likes to embarrass me, but he’s got a good place. Everybody goes here. I bet you wouldn’t see anything like it in Toronto.”
    “I wouldn’t know,” said Peter. “My parents weren’t big on eating out. If there was no time to cook, they went for a cheap fast-food chain. Plenty of those in Toronto.”
    Rosemary looked at him seriously. “What was it like? You’ve never told me about it. How do you sleep with all that noise?”
    Peter rolled his straw in his fingers. “You get used to it,” he said at last. “I had trouble sleeping when I first came here. Clarksbury was too quiet.”
    “How can anything be too quiet?”
    “You get used to the noises. You take them into yourself and make them a part of your sleep. The rumble of streetcars outside your window, the footsteps, conversations, all of it. Those are the sounds your mind needs to say that everything is all right. You miss it when it goes.”
    Rosemary stared at him across the table. There was something about her expression that made Peter flush and look away.
    “Was it hard coming here?” she asked, carefully. “Leaving all that behind?”
    He sucked his lips. “Er … yes … and no. It helped that my uncle was here. I hadn’t spent more than two weeks with any one foster family before that. My uncle may not be around much, but at least I have a house to go home to.”
    Rosemary started to say something, but Luigi arrived, delivering a steaming pizza and telling both to “watch out, it’s hot.” Peter changed the subject the moment Luigi stepped away; but he kept casting glances at Rosemary as she ate.
***
    “Let’s not call my dad,” said Rosemary as she