"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." He
said it as an assumption again, not a question.
My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself."
His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and he
seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.
I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to stare at me
with obvious curiosity.
"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so
I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie." My voice
was glum by the time I finished.
"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.
"And?" I challenged.
"That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense.
I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."
"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," he agreed dryly.
"So that's all," I insisted, wondering why he was still staring at me
that way.
His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly.
"But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone
see."
I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a
five-year-old, and looked away.
"Am I wrong?"
I tried to ignore him.
"I didn't think so," he murmured smugly.
"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away,
watching the teacher make his rounds.
"That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that I wondered if
he was talking to himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I
decided that was the only answer I was going to get.
I sighed, scowling at the blackboard.
"Am I annoying you?" he asked. He sounded amused.
I glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth again. "Not
exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — my
mother always calls me her open book." I frowned.
"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything
that I'd said and he'd guessed, he sounded like he meant it.
"You must be a good reader then," I replied.
"Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.
打开的书（12）
"所以你母亲就要你到这里来了，这样她就可以跟着到处跑了。"他又在主观臆断，而不是在问。
我稍稍仰起头："不，不是她要我来这里的，是我自己要来的。"
他的两簇眉毛挤到了一起。"我不明白。"他承认道，而且他似乎对这个事实感到很失望，其实大可不必。
我叹了一口气。我干吗要跟他说这些呢？他仍旧目不转睛地盯着我，眼里充满了明显的好奇。
我妈妈一开始一直和我一起生活,但是她也想念菲尔,这让她并不快乐……所以我决定是该跟查理好好呆一段时间，增进增进感情的时候了。"说完这句话的时候，我的声音已经有点儿凄凉了。
"可现在你不快乐，"他指出。
"然后呢？"我向他事事都擅自做判断提出挑战。
"这似乎不公平。"他耸了耸肩，但他的眼神并没轻松下来。
我哈哈一笑，一点儿都不幽默："难道没人告诉过你吗？生活本来就是不公平的。"
"我相信以前是在什么地方听说过。"他干巴巴地说道。
"这不就结了嘛。"我坚持道，心里纳闷他干吗还是那样盯着我。
他的凝视变成了评判的眼神。"你的戏演得还真不错呢，"他一字一顿地说，"但是我倒很愿意打个赌，赌你内心的痛苦比你流露出来的要多。"
我冲他做了个鬼脸，忍住了像5岁的小孩那样吐舌头的冲动，把脸扭向了一边。
"我说错了吗？"
我努力不去理他。
"我可不这么认为哟，"他自鸣得意地说。
"这关你什么事呢？"我生气地问道。我眼睛仍然望在一边，看着老师巡回检查。
"这个问题问得非常好，"他低声说道，声音小得我还以为他是在跟自己说话呢。不过，沉默了几秒钟之后，我确定那是我会得到的惟一答案了。
我叹了一口气，生气地瞪着黑板。
"是不是我惹你生气了？"他问。他听上去很开心。
我想都没想，就瞥了他一眼……并且又一次告诉了他实话："不全是你惹的。我更生我自己的气。我这张脸太不争气了，太容易看透了——我母亲总说我是她打开的书。"我皱起了眉头。
"恰恰相反，我发现你这本书太难读懂了。"尽管我什么都说了，他也什么都猜对了，但听他的口气，好像说的是真心话。
"那么，你肯定是个很会看书的人，"我回答说。
"八九不离十吧。"他咧嘴一笑，露出了一口完美无缺、超白的牙齿。
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