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Commentary. Thou shalt not bicker –“Не бранись”, «Не ссорься» (стилиз

Thou shalt not bicker –“Не бранись”, «Не ссорься» (стилиз. под 10 библейских заповедей (10 Commandments), Thou shalt not… (устар., библ.) - You shouldn’t)

a nubbly wool coat – пальто из буклированной шерсти

sort of … (late, early, etc.) – (разг.) вроде, пожалуй, как бы (опоздал, пришел рано и т.д.)

rooters – (амер. разг.) болельщики

play off – решающий матч, игра

the score was a tie – счет сравнялся (a tie – игра вничью)

fullbacks -защитники

halfback -полузащитник

swell – отличный, превосходный

locker room – раздевалка (locker – запирающийся индивидуальный шкафчик или ящик)

a chaperon – сопровождающий, компаньонка, дуэнья (зд. преподаватель, ответственный за проведение вечера)

ditch the party – бросить, пропустить (зд. смыться с вечеринки)

Exercise 1. Practise the pronunciation of the following words:

1. acquiescent [LWkwI'esnt] 9. ostensible [Os'tensRbl]

2. gawky ['gO:kI] 10. doodle [du:dl]

3. pew [pju:] 11. divine [dI'vQIn]

4. dough [dou] 12. overzealous ['ouvR'zelRs]

5. belligerence [bI'lIdGRrRns] 13. ounce [Quns]

6. mousy ['mQusI] 14. inexorable [In'eksRrRbl]

7. amiably ['eImjRblI] 15. caustic ['kO:stIk]

8. ambiguous [Wm'bIgjuRs]

Exercise 2. Read the following extract:

Jane came home from Trudy’s just in time to change for church. Her mother, dressed in a trim black suit, was on her way downstairs. “Hello, dear. Have a good time?” she asked.

“Very.”

“Ken was just over here, looking for you.”

“For me?” Jane’s heart gave a spontaneous leap, then plummeted. “Oh, yes. I think I know what he wants.”

She caught the mixed solicitude and vexation in her mother’s expression. Quite aware that she must seem a problem child, yet unable to avoid it, Jane ran up to her room to dress.

Belinda, looking especially cherubic in a gray-blue coat and matching hat, was standing in the upper hall pulling on white cotton gloves. “Better hurry,” she said. “It’s getting late.”

Jane brushed past her without replying, dropped her overnight bag on the bedroom floor, and pulled the green sweater over her head, tossing it to a chair. In five minutes she was ready, but she knew that she lacked the smart perfection of either her mother or Linda. The only gloves she could find had a hole in one finger, her slippers needed shining, and the gray flannel suit that had been just right last spring now felt outgrown.

Her mother looked at her thoughtfully as they walked toward the church door. “We’ll have to do something about your clothes,” she murmured.

Usually Jane would have protested. She hated to go shopping. But today she felt sufficiently dowdy to be acquiescent “I’ve grown too fast,” she admitted. “I don’t look right in anything.”

Indeed, she had never felt more gawky than now, as she followed her mother and Belinda down the church aisle. Belinda was making a social occasion of this entrance, smiling to right and left like a little princess; but Jane tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, slipping into the pew beside her father and making herself small. She was glad when the service was over and she could go home. Instead of lingering on the steps with the rest of the family, who always had friends to whom they wanted to say a few words, Jane walked to the parked car and climbed into the back seat.

“Goodness, you’re antisocial,” Belinda remarked, when she arrived a little later with her parents.

“What’s it to you?” Jane snapped. She moved farther over into the corner, so that she would be as far from her sister as possible. The thought of touching her had become repugnant She even drew aside her purse.

“Oh, stop being so disagreeable!” Linda complained peevishly.

“Well, then stop being so critical.”

“Girls!” said Mrs. Howard, from the front seat.

“I think there should be an eleventh commandment, ‘Thou shalt not bicker,’ ” commented the man of the family, as he fitted the key into the ignition switch.

But silence did not lessen Jane’s resentment. She was still feeling bitter that afternoon when Ken brought her the money he owed her. Linda had walked over to Sally King’s, Mr. and Mrs. Howard had gone to call on a friend in the hospital, and Jane was moping in the living room when he came in.

“Hi.” His glance was level. “You alone?”

“Yes,” Jane replied. “Doesn’t it look that way?”

Ken held forth a white envelope. “Here’s your dough. Better count it.”

Jane leafed through the bills and pretended to examine the change. “O.K.”

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Ken said, with considerable belligerence.

“You needn’t take that attitude. Anybody has a right to call a loan,” Jane snapped. “I happen to need the money, right away.”

“Why?”

“What’s it to you? It’s my money, isn’t it?”

“Sure, it’s yours. But why you couldn’t have waited a couple more weeks is more than I can see.”

“That’s my business.” Fury burned in Jane’s eyes.

“Well, frankly, I think you’re a stinker,” Ken replied.

“You – you think I’m a stinker!” Jane cried. “I like that! Who do you think you are, Ken Sanderson, talking that way to me? You get out of this house!” Without realizing it, Jane had leapt to her feet and was advancing on him as though she intended to do battle.

“Don’t worry. I’m going,” Ken said, but he stood his ground, seething with indignation. “Yes,” he said, before he turned on his heel, “quite frankly I think you’re a complete and utter stinker, because I don’t believe you’re going to spend that money now you’ve got it. I don’t believe you needed it at all.”

* * *

Tuesday afternoon was a half holiday, due to a Teachers’ Institute, and Mrs. Howard picked Jane up at school and drove her into the city for lunch and a shopping spree. Belinda, to Jane’s relief, wasn’t invited to go along. She had already acquired a fairly extensive school wardrobe, and her mother told her firmly that she didn’t need another thing.

It was fun, Jane found, to be off along with her mother – sort of like old times, when Belinda was still a child in grammar school and Jane had to be outfitted for ninth grade. Never before, however, had Mrs. Howard been so difficult to please. She shook her head at coat after coat Jane tried on. “No,” she said to the saleswoman, “not gray or blue. She needs something with a little life.”

Red wasn’t the answer either. It made Jane’s hair look mousy and drained the color from her cheeks. Finally, however, the clerk brought out a nubbly wool coat that was almost burnt-orange in color, but softer. It made Jane’s skin look creamy and her eyes especially green.

“That’s it!” Mrs. Howard cried, as though she had made a discovery. “It will go with green, gray, or brown – anything. And it’s becoming. Do you like it Jane?”

“Frankly,” Jane said, “I’m not sure.” It was different from anything she had ever had. It looked almost flashy.

But her mother said, “Trust my judgment. It does something for you – and that’s what you need.”

They bought a sweater and a plaid skirt to blend with the coat, and then, in the junior-miss department, found a full-skirted green velvet party frock, with a high round neck and short sleeves. It made Jane’s waist look very small, and her eyes reflected the color. She turned in front of the mirror with a sudden access of confidence. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she breathed.

Her mother looked at the price tag and raised her eyebrows in dismay, but she said to the clerk, “It has to be shortened. How long do you suppose that will take?”

“I think we can have it ready by Saturday.”

Saturday. Jane swallowed hard. Trudy’s prediction concerning Gordon had proved to be overconfident. When Jane met him at the drinking fountain in the hall on Monday, just before Latin class, he had grinned amiably and chatted for a minute. But he didn’t say a word about the dance. “It doesn’t matter, really,” she said to her mother. “I don’t think I’m going to the dance.”

Mrs. Howard let the remark pass without comment until they were back in the car, weaving through city traffic on their way to Brookfield. Then she reopened the subject. “Jane,” she asked gently, “what’s gone wrong between you and Ken?”

“What do you mean, ‘wrong’?” Jane needed time to collect herself.

“Don’t put me off, darling. You know perfectly well what I mean. You scarcely speak to each other, though a month ago you were – just the way you’ve always been.”

“Boys change, I guess, the same as girls,” said Jane ambiguously.

“But did anything special happen? Did you have a quarrel? Something must have made him pull this sudden switch to Belinda. I don’t mean to pry, Jane, but I may as well tell you I’m not especially happy about it. Belinda’s a dear child, but with all the attention she’s getting, she’s apt to become spoiled.”

Belinda’s a dear child, is she? Belinda’s a brat! Jane had been on the verge of being able to talk to her mother, but now her expression grew sullen and uncommunicative again. She couldn’t admit that she hated her own sister. And she couldn’t discuss her overwhelming feeling of injury.

Unaware that one casual affectionate phrase about Belinda had shut a door in her face, Mrs. Howard waited. They stopped for a red light, then started again, but still Jane didn’t speak.

“Jane?”

“Mm?”

“Jane, I’d really like to help you!” It was a plea, a cry in the dark.

“There’s nothing to help me with,” said Jane, with ostensible weariness. “I wish you’d just let me alone.”

The minute the words were out, she could have flung her arms around her mother’s neck and wept. Mrs. Howard looked straight ahead, and Jane knew precisely how rejected and hurt she must feel. Yet a demon seemed to have taken possession of Jane. She couldn’t apologize. She couldn’t do anything but sit there. Crouched in the corner of the seat she felt not unlike a wild animal at bay.

“What’s the matter with me?” she asked herself. “I feel one way and act another. I’ve never been like this before.”

All the people and things she loved seemed doubly dear, doubly important. She wanted to open her heart and gather them to her as she always had – before Linda had managed to spoil everything. But none of this secret emotion showed. She merely looked sullen and unapproachable.

After a while her mother said, “I know you won’t believe me, but I’d like to tell you something, Jane. People who have not had too easy a time of it develop flavor. Maybe this experience will help you to become a bigger person.”

Jane’s lip curled. “Nuts,” she muttered.

“Jane!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Oh, Mother, for Pete’s sake,” Jane wailed frantically, “can’t you let the subject drop?”

* * *

On Thursday morning Trudy walked to school with Gordon Park. Jane saw them coming up the steps together, and when, at noon, Gordon sought her out and asked her if she’d like to go to the dance on Saturday, she flushed with suspicion and almost refused.

“I know it’s sort of late,” Gordon apologized, staring down at his feet. “But my family was maybe going away for the week end. I wasn’t sure.”

By the time this explanation was finished, Jane had collected herself. It didn’t matter whether Trudy was responsible for the invitation, or whether Gordon’s story was an obvious sop to her vanity; she had no recourse. “Thank you very much,” she murmured. “I think it would be fun.”

“Well, good,” said Gordon. “Suppose I stop by around eight?”

“O.K.,” Jane said. “Fine.” She was glad that a bell was calling them to class.

All through history period she doodled in the back of her notebook, deciding that no matter how she felt she would have to pretend to the family that she was delighted to be going to the dance with Gordon. That she announced to them with elaborate casualness that he was taking her. She carefully avoided looking at sister, because she was sure that, as clearly as though she had spoken the words, Linda’s expression would say, “That drip?”

“Gordon is thinking of majoring in archaeology at the University of Arizona,” Jane told her father. “He’s really awfully bright.”

Belinda yawned, but Jane persisted in the pose she had adopted. She turned to her mother. “I do hope the green dress comes in time.”

With this remark she scored, because Belinda looked momentarily envious. Jane smiled and pressed her advantage. “It’s really terribly pretty, isn’t it, Mother? And the material is simply divine!”

The dress came on Friday afternoon while Jane was playing in the postponed hockey game with Carlinville. The bus bringing the visitors arrived late, due to a breakdown, and it was well after four o’clock when the girls finally met on the field.

The delay had made both teams impatient and nervous. When the whistle blew, there was a clash of sticks as the opposing center forwards fought for the ball. Then Jane saw Polly lunge through. The game was on.

Before five minutes had elapsed, she and the rest of the Brookfield team realized how right Coach Glover had been in telling them that Carlinville would play to win. The visitors were rough and ready. They handled their sticks with hard-hitting vigor, and although the home team was quick in capturing the ball, the Carlinville backfield was so strong that there seemed to be no chance of breaking through for a goal.

At the end of the first quarter neither side had scored, and the rooters on the side lines looked bored. They wanted action. This was scarcely a spectators’ game.

Carlinville obliged with unexpected suddenness. Winning the play-off, they streaked down the field, and seconds later the umpire’s whistle blew. The Brookfield goalie looked surprised and chagrined. “I didn’t even see it coming,” she murmured in astonishment. “Those gals are good!”

Jane began to play with added concentration. The wind in her face felt clean and cool, and the trees around the field were a blaze of color, though she scarcely saw them. When the ball came rocketing toward her off the flat side of the Carlinville center’s stick, she cracked it to her own inner, and side-stepped the opposing wing to ran forward and receive it again. Dribbling and passing, she increased the pace of the line with dogged determination. Speed was the only possible answer to Carlinville’s superior strength. Passing to Polly at a critical moment, Jane yelled, “Take it!” A moment later the score was a tie.

“Good work!” Coach Glover praised her during the half. “Keep it up, Jane.” Jane walked back to the field full of fight, her eyes shining with excitement. Polly, beside her, said, “We’ve got some new rooters. Look.”

Jane followed the direction of her nod. There, on the side lines, stood Ken and Eric and several other boys from the football squad, who had been practicing in the next field. They were swinging their helmets and talking among themselves, paying little attention to the hockey game. They had honored the girls with their presence and now they were critically looking over the talent on the opposing team.

Glancing at them, as she took her starting position, Jane saw Ken laugh at something and slap his knee. Suddenly her hands, on the wrapped stick, felt damp; and self-consciousness flooded over her in a wave. The ball came toward her and she missed it. Then, overzealous, she managed to get off side. The umpire’s whistle blew sharply, and she signalled Jane’s error. Carlinville was awarded a free shot, managed to get past the Brookfield halfbacks, and with clever passing evaded the backfield and made another goal.

Jane’s face was scarlet. She felt as though it were entirely her fault. Polly, returning to center field, passed close to her and murmured, “Don’t let him get you down!”

At another time this might have embarrassed Jane, but today it simply goaded her into action. Getting her down – that’s just what Ken was doing. Well, he’d do it no longer! Ignoring the gallery, she got her eye on the ball and kept it there: For the rest of the hard-fought third quarter she didn’t miss an important shot.

But neither did Brookfield score another goal, and when the final quarter was half over the visitors were still ahead. “Go, team, go!” the rooters began to shout. “Get in there and fight!”

“Fight!” Jane muttered under her breath. Somehow, in some way, Brookfield had to win. She wasn’t only fighting Carlinville now; she was in some obscure way fighting Ken and Belinda. Only through victory could she imagine herself redeemed. Only then could she find the courage to go to the dance with Gordon and hold up her head.

But the minutes remaining were so few! She took one quick glance at the clock, then brought her eyes back to the ball. “Fight!” she shouted unconsciously, and with every ounce of energy she possessed she willed her team to get the upper hand.

Head down, she played with fury. Once more, as on the day when Polly was elected captain, she sparked the entire forward line. They gave her the ball whenever possible, sensing her power, and she dribbled and passed with lightning speed, evading the solid fullbacks, then cracked through to a goal.

But a tie was not what Jane envisioned. The compulsion that swept her was an urge to victory. Only four minutes of play remained. She pushed the hair back from her forehead and began calling words of encouragement to her team mates, spurring them on, panting and hoarse and utterly unaware that on the side lines Ken was shouting, “Yea, Jane!”

The next play-off ended in a scuffle so confusing that from wing position Jane couldn’t follow it. Then suddenly Polly broke through, dribbling, and Jane yelled, “Here!”

She was away like a flash, but a halfback was ready to stop her, and the route to her inner was blocked. Then she heard Polly call her name and took a long chance, slamming the ball at an angle ahead of the center forward. The Carlinville fullbacks both raced for it, but Polly was faster, and the Brookfield line, once more unified, began to move forward inexorably. In the final minute of play Polly made the goal that won the game.

Her face streaked with dust and perspiration, Jane walked off the field in a trance, a little apart from the other players. She could scarcely believe that it was over – that they had won.

Ken grabbed her arm and said, “Congratulations! You played one swell game that last quarter, Jane.”

She was so filled with elation that for a moment she forgot they were no longer friends. “Did I?” she said. “Thank. It was fun!”

* * *

Overnight, to her own surprise, Jane achieved a new status. She became an acknowledged star on the hockey team. Girls she scarcely knew stopped to congratulate her when she went downtown on Saturday morning. Polly called up and talked for half an hour, making all sorts of plans. “If we can beat Carlinville we can beat anybody,” she said confidently “I’d like to see Brookfield get really interested in hockey instead of treating it as a sort of secondary sport.” Jane didn’t admit that her own interest wasn’t quite so intense as yesterday’s playing had indicated. She was happy to feel included and mildly important. The hockey victory and the green dress combined to give her the confidence she needed so desperately. Gordon found her almost gay.

The mood held even after they reached the gym, which had been decorated with paper streamers in the football colors. Several girls gathered around Jane in the locker room to admire her new coat, which was so striking that it couldn’t be ignored. And when she approached the blurry little mirror to powder her nose, Trudy came up behind her and whispered, “Gordon is positively beaming. He’s living in reflected glory, and you know he adores that.”

Jane laughed at such nonsense, but her eyes began to sparkle. When she walked out on the gym floor to join the boys she was chattering with Trudy as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

If it hadn’t been for the stupid custom of dancing only with the boy who brought you, Jane would have had a good time. If she could have traded partners with Sue or Trudy or some of the other girls in the crowd, the evening wouldn’t have become monotonous; but she and Gordon had too little in common to spend several uninterrupted hours in each other’s company. They simply ran out of things to talk about.

Jane’s smile began to wear thin at about ten-thirty; and then, in the crowded gym, she caught a glimpse of Ken and Belinda for the first time. She had deliberately avoided looking for them, having no wish to twist the knife that had wounded her. But once aware of their presence, it was impossible to forget it. At every opportunity her eyes kept seeking them out.

It seemed completely incredible to Jane that they should be there at all — Ken and Linda together, at a high-school dance. It gave her a topsy-turvy sensation, as though the world had turned upside down. Sooner or later she’d doubtless wake up and find that none of this was true. Linda was full of animation this evening, bright-eyed and laughing. She was so much shorter than Ken that dancing with him made her seem even more doll-like than usual; she looked very tiny and breakable, and he seemed exceptionally masculine and tall. Neither of them appeared to see Jane, or, indeed, anyone else on the floor.

“Pipe your kid sister’s technique,” murmured Trudy inelegantly, when they found themselves together during an intermission. “Does she give with the eyelashes! How Ken can fall for it, is more than I know.”

It was more than Jane knew, either, but the fact remained that Belinda was successful – enormously successful. Perhaps it might be wise to study her skill and profit by the experience.

“Let’s try that step Trudy was teaching us the other night,” Gordon suggested unexpectedly.

Roused from her contemplation, Jane said, “Mm? Oh, yes!” But they seemed to have lost the necessary timing. Jane couldn’t quite catch the rhythm, and Gordon became overanxious and awkward in consequence. Finally Jane cried, “I give up!” She was beginning to feel that the evening would never end.

If only he were a little gayer, if only he’d laugh and talk and at least look as though he were having fun! But he plodded around the floor with his usual owlish expression, happy enough in his own way, Jane supposed, but giving the distinct impression that dancing was a serious business on which it was necessary to concentrate. Jane made a couple of abortive attempts to be witty, but tension made her caustic rather than amusing. Gordon did not respond.

It was a relief when during the next intermission Sue Harvey said, “Let’s get the gang together and go over to the Snack Shop. I think the party’s dying.” Jane willingly helped round up Polly and Jack Preston, Trudy and Stitch, and the rest of the crowd. Now she wouldn’t have to manufacture any more conversation. Now somebody else could talk.

Just as they were edging around the floor, to say good night to the chaperons, Ken, by some mischance, backed right into Sue, who was too happy-go-lucky to be aware of anything awkward in Jane’s near presence with Gordon. “Step on me! Mow me down,” she teased. “Where d’you think you’re going, boy?”

“Where are you going? That’s more to the point. Ditching the party, huh?” Ken shot back with a grin.

“Nope. We’re going on to the Snack Shop,” Sue retorted. Then, to Jane’s alarm, she said casually, “Why don’t you come along?”

Ken hesitated. He glanced at Belinda, who stood waiting, her pretty face quite devoid of expression. She obviously wasn’t interested in helping him to make up his mind. “Maybe we’ll follow you,” he said, as he turned to Belinda and danced away. “Save us a place if you can.”

Exercise 3. Find the following words and word combinations in the text you have read. Write out and learn the pronunciation. Give the Russian equivalents:

1. What’s it to you?

2. to call a loan

3. to stand one’s ground

4. to blend with smth.

5. to collect oneself

6. to let (leave) smb. alone

7. to be on the verge of doing smth

8. to seek smb. out (sought, sought)

9. to break through for smth

10. to honor smb. with smth.

11. to do smth with lightning speed

12. to have in common

13. at every opportunity

14. to turn upside down

15. to be devoid of smth.

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