Buon pomeriggio lettori!
Oggi ci ho messo più del solito a pubblicare perché sono pirla e non ho preparato il post in anticipo. Era un po’ che non mettevo un Teaser Tuesday in inglese, ma questo è l’unico libro che ho in lettura e spero comunque di incuriosirvi un po’. Non si sa ancora quando uscirà in Italia, ma se avete letto la trilogia “Shatter Me” sicuramente questo teaser vi intrigherà.
Kenji and I are in Warner’s room—what’s become my room—and we’re standing in the middle of the closet while I fling clothes at him, trying to figure out what to wear.
“What about this?” I say to him, throwing something glittery in his direction. “Or this?” I toss another ball of fabric at him.
“You don’t know shit about clothes, do you?”
I turn around, tilt my head. “I’m sorry, when was I supposed to learn about fashion, Kenji? When I was growing up alone and tortured by my horrible parents? Or maybe when I was festering in an insane asylum?”
That shuts him up.
“So?” I say, nodding with my chin. “Which one?”
He picks up the two pieces I threw at him and frowns. “You’re making me choose between a short, shiny dress and a pair of pajama bottoms? I mean—I guess I choose the dress? But I don’t think it’ll go well with those ratty tennis shoes you’re always wearing.”
“Oh.” I glance down at my shoes. “Well, I don’t know. Warner picked this stuff out for me a long time ago—before he even met me. It’s all I have,” I say, looking up. “These clothes are left over from when I first got to Sector 45.”
“Why don’t you just wear your suit?” Kenji says, leaning against the wall. “The new one Alia and Winston made for you?”
I shake my head. “They haven’t finished fixing it yet. And it’s still got bloodstains from when I shot Warner’s dad. Besides,” I say, taking a deep breath, “that was a different me. I wore those head-to-toe suits when I thought I had to protect people from my skin. But I’m different now. I can turn my power off. I can be . . . normal.” I try to smile. “So I want to dress like a normal person.”
“But you’re not a normal person.”
“I know that.” A frustrating flush of heat warms my cheeks. “I just . . . I think I’d like to dress like one. Maybe for a little while? I’ve never been able to act my age and I just want to feel a little bit—”
“I get it,” Kenji says, cutting me off with one hand. He looks me up and down. Says, “Well, I mean, if that’s the look you’re going for, I think you look like a normal person right now. This’ll work.” He waves in the general direction of my body.
I’m wearing jeans and a pink sweater. My hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. I feel comfortable and normal—but I also feel like an unaccomplished seventeen-year-old playing pretend.
Juliette – Restore Me di Tahereh Mafi