I actually hate this chapter, but oh well. Here it is.
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“If you want some girl time, Marlene Oder lives in the apartment just down the hall, Carlotta Perky’s on the second story, Shelly Astaire’s across the hall from us, and I guess if it comes down to it—”
“Hi, Kowalski,” someone said behind them.
“—there’s always her,” Kowalski finished, turning around with Kitka.
Behind them stood a young woman wearing a faded denim jacket, the sort of boots one might wear around a farm, and trousers. She had hazel eyes and hair a color that could only be described as blue; although, Kitka thought, it could just be the light.
“Hi, Henrietta,” Kowalski said.
“Who’s she?” Henrietta asked, gesturing to Kitka.
“This is Kitka. She just moved in. She’s Skipper’s new girlfriend.”
Kitka blushed.
“Is that so? You know, Kowalski, you really need a girlfriend.”
Kowalski glared at her. “Doris?”
“You know Doris won’t have you. She doesn’t know squat about math, physics, or any-thing of the sort.”
“She knows about sea creatures,” Kowalski said. “And she’s funny.”
“So out of your league. You and me, on the other hand…”
“We could never be a couple!” Kowalski said, aggravated. “You’ll never get used to not being on that Delaware farm of yours, whereas I’ve lived in the city almost my whole life! You’re more into predictions and persuasion, whereas I like science! Besides, as painful as it is to admit, you’re about twenty times smarter than me!”
“Twenty-one point seven, but close enough.”
Kowalski scowled at her and stalked away.
“So, you and Kowalski are just friends, am I correct?” Henrietta asked.
Kitka nodded. “Barely that. I moved in yesterday. So you’re one of four girls who live here?”
“Five, now. But yes, there are three others. Kowalski told you about them?”
“Just their names.”
“Ah. Okay, so I happen to have records on everyone in the apartment building—sort of a little hobby I have—so I can tell you about them if you’d like.”
Kitka nodded.
“Okay, well, Carlotta, she’s one of those girls who’s too pretty for her own good. Always got boys hitting on her. She won’t have any of them but Rico. They’re both a bit wild; that’s why, really. Always running off with each other, going to parties and coming home drunk.
Shelly’s pretty gangly: big front teeth, braces, long neck. You get the idea. Not very smart, but she’s friendly enough. Definitely strange, though.”
So is everyone else I’ve meet who lives here, Kitka thought.
“Oh, and then there’s Marlene,” Henrietta said. “Loves Spanish guitar more than any instrument in the world. She’s quite independent—she doesn’t date very much, that’s probably why. Pretty friendly, though, and not really as weird as everyone else who lives here. There’s Carlotta now, if you want to talk to her.”
Kitka turned and saw a young woman, about nineteen or twenty, with perfect blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and a figure that could be a model’s.
How’d Rico get her? Kitka wondered, thinking of the scar, the wild red hair, and his inability to speak correctly.
She walked over to Carlotta. “Hi,” she said, extending her hand.
Carlotta turned and stared at her. “Who are you?” she asked. (She actually didn’t mean it rudely, but it sounded rude to Kitka).
“Um, my name’s Kitka. I just moved in. And you’re Carlotta, right? The mean pretty girl?”
“Mean pretty girl?” Carlotta asked. “Is that what she told you? You think all pretty girls are mean? Because I don’t think we need more girls who look like you around here.”
Henrietta walked up behind Kitka. “Carlotta, you’re being a mean pretty girl right now. Besides, you can’t insult someone about their looks, considering who your boyfriend is.”
Carlotta stiffened. “There’s nothing wrong with how Rico looks! I think he’s cute. But you two are just idiots. I mean, Henrietta likes Kowalski.”
“I am a lot of things, but idiot is not one of them,” Henrietta said.
Rico came out of his apartment and saw the three fighting. He rolled his eyes. “Wo-men,” he said to himself, walking over to break up the fight.
“Hey! ‘Lotta!” he called. Carlotta looked up.
“Rico!” she said, running into him. “These two just decided to start a fight with me. I don’t know why, I was being perfectly nice…”
Rico stroked her head and growled at Henrietta.
“Oh, it was all me, then, was it?” Henrietta said.
Rico nodded and led Carlotta to his apartment.
“Well, goodbye,” Henrietta said. Kitka started to walk down the hall to her room, but Henrietta called after her.
“Kitka? Tell Kowalski there’s a dance Friday night at the Dance and Music Center. Can you do that for me?”
Kitka nodded over her shoulder and changed direction, heading instead towards apart-ment 27; Skipper, Rico, Private, and Kowalski’s apartment.
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“If you want some girl time, Marlene Oder lives in the apartment just down the hall, Carlotta Perky’s on the second story, Shelly Astaire’s across the hall from us, and I guess if it comes down to it—”
“Hi, Kowalski,” someone said behind them.
“—there’s always her,” Kowalski finished, turning around with Kitka.
Behind them stood a young woman wearing a faded denim jacket, the sort of boots one might wear around a farm, and trousers. She had hazel eyes and hair a color that could only be described as blue; although, Kitka thought, it could just be the light.
“Hi, Henrietta,” Kowalski said.
“Who’s she?” Henrietta asked, gesturing to Kitka.
“This is Kitka. She just moved in. She’s Skipper’s new girlfriend.”
Kitka blushed.
“Is that so? You know, Kowalski, you really need a girlfriend.”
Kowalski glared at her. “Doris?”
“You know Doris won’t have you. She doesn’t know squat about math, physics, or any-thing of the sort.”
“She knows about sea creatures,” Kowalski said. “And she’s funny.”
“So out of your league. You and me, on the other hand…”
“We could never be a couple!” Kowalski said, aggravated. “You’ll never get used to not being on that Delaware farm of yours, whereas I’ve lived in the city almost my whole life! You’re more into predictions and persuasion, whereas I like science! Besides, as painful as it is to admit, you’re about twenty times smarter than me!”
“Twenty-one point seven, but close enough.”
Kowalski scowled at her and stalked away.
“So, you and Kowalski are just friends, am I correct?” Henrietta asked.
Kitka nodded. “Barely that. I moved in yesterday. So you’re one of four girls who live here?”
“Five, now. But yes, there are three others. Kowalski told you about them?”
“Just their names.”
“Ah. Okay, so I happen to have records on everyone in the apartment building—sort of a little hobby I have—so I can tell you about them if you’d like.”
Kitka nodded.
“Okay, well, Carlotta, she’s one of those girls who’s too pretty for her own good. Always got boys hitting on her. She won’t have any of them but Rico. They’re both a bit wild; that’s why, really. Always running off with each other, going to parties and coming home drunk.
Shelly’s pretty gangly: big front teeth, braces, long neck. You get the idea. Not very smart, but she’s friendly enough. Definitely strange, though.”
So is everyone else I’ve meet who lives here, Kitka thought.
“Oh, and then there’s Marlene,” Henrietta said. “Loves Spanish guitar more than any instrument in the world. She’s quite independent—she doesn’t date very much, that’s probably why. Pretty friendly, though, and not really as weird as everyone else who lives here. There’s Carlotta now, if you want to talk to her.”
Kitka turned and saw a young woman, about nineteen or twenty, with perfect blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and a figure that could be a model’s.
How’d Rico get her? Kitka wondered, thinking of the scar, the wild red hair, and his inability to speak correctly.
She walked over to Carlotta. “Hi,” she said, extending her hand.
Carlotta turned and stared at her. “Who are you?” she asked. (She actually didn’t mean it rudely, but it sounded rude to Kitka).
“Um, my name’s Kitka. I just moved in. And you’re Carlotta, right? The mean pretty girl?”
“Mean pretty girl?” Carlotta asked. “Is that what she told you? You think all pretty girls are mean? Because I don’t think we need more girls who look like you around here.”
Henrietta walked up behind Kitka. “Carlotta, you’re being a mean pretty girl right now. Besides, you can’t insult someone about their looks, considering who your boyfriend is.”
Carlotta stiffened. “There’s nothing wrong with how Rico looks! I think he’s cute. But you two are just idiots. I mean, Henrietta likes Kowalski.”
“I am a lot of things, but idiot is not one of them,” Henrietta said.
Rico came out of his apartment and saw the three fighting. He rolled his eyes. “Wo-men,” he said to himself, walking over to break up the fight.
“Hey! ‘Lotta!” he called. Carlotta looked up.
“Rico!” she said, running into him. “These two just decided to start a fight with me. I don’t know why, I was being perfectly nice…”
Rico stroked her head and growled at Henrietta.
“Oh, it was all me, then, was it?” Henrietta said.
Rico nodded and led Carlotta to his apartment.
“Well, goodbye,” Henrietta said. Kitka started to walk down the hall to her room, but Henrietta called after her.
“Kitka? Tell Kowalski there’s a dance Friday night at the Dance and Music Center. Can you do that for me?”
Kitka nodded over her shoulder and changed direction, heading instead towards apart-ment 27; Skipper, Rico, Private, and Kowalski’s apartment.
