第9部分(第2/7 頁)

ling　walls　were　gasping　for　a　new　coat　of　paint。　Dan　and

his　father　and　sister　rarely　threw　anything　away；　either；　so　the　sagging　furniture　and　scratched

wooden　floors　were　strewn　with　old　newspapers　and　magazines；　out…of…print　books；　inplete

decks　of　cards；　used　batteries；　and　unsharpened　pencils。　It　was　the　kind　of　place　where　your　coffee

got　cat　hair　in　it　the　minute　you　poured　it；　which　was　a　problem　Dan　dealt　with　constantly　because

he　was　pletely　addicted　to　caffeine。

？Do　you　want　me　to　face　the　camera？？　he　asked；　sitting　down　on　his　worn　wooden　desk　chair

and　swiveling　it　toward　Vanessa。　？I　could　hold　the　notebook　in　my　lap　and　write　like　this；？　he

demonstrated。

Vanessa　knelt　down　and　squinted　through　the　camera　lens。　She　was　wearing　her　gray　pleated

Constance　Billard　uniform　with　black　tights；　and　the　brown　shag　carpet　felt　bristly　against　her

knees。　？Yes；　that？s　nice；？　she　murmured。　Oh；　just　look　how　pale　and　smooth　Dan？s　chest　was！　She

could　see　every　rib；　and　that　nice　line　of　tawny　peach　fuzz　that　ran　up　his　belly　to　his　navel！　She

inched　forward　on　her　knees；　trying　to　get　as　close　as　possible　without　ruining　the　frame。

Dan　bit　the　end　of　his　pen；　smiled　to　himself；　and　then　wrote；She？s　got　a　shaved　head；　she　wears

black　all　the　time；　she　needs　a　new　pair　of　bat　boots；　and　she　hates　to　wear　makeup。　But　she？s

the　kind　of　girl　who　believes　in　you　and　secretly　gets　your　best　poem　published　in　The　New

Yorker。　I　guess　you　could　say　I　love　her。

It　was　probably　the　corniest　thing　he？d　ever　written；　but　it　wasn？t　like　he　was　going　to　publish　it

in　his　？Greatest　Works？　or　anything。

Vanessa　inched　forward　some　more；　trying　to　cap