Queens of All the Earth Read Online Free Page A

without any further response, turned and slipped out of the room. She returned, shivering, to the calm, smothering darkness of the dorm room and, mesmerized by the sound of Miranda’swhispery snoring, waited with unnatural stillness for the other sleepers to return.

2
THIS MOTIONLESS FORGETFUL WHERE
    O livia refused to leave the dorm room by herself the next morning. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about overhearing people talk about her sister. So she and Miranda washed their faces together, rubbing the sleep-crumbs from their eyes over the same mirror. The sisters entered the chilly common room swathed in sweatshirts, with their morning hair hand-combed clumsily, their faces a matching set: big spoon and little spoon.
    The young guy with the black staff shirt and the welcoming smile wandered in and out of the common room with a pail and a mop, but the two objects never seemed to meet each other or any horizontal surface. The waspish blond girl in braids who had welcomed them when they first arrived was engrossed by one of the computers at the back of the room—was she avoiding Miranda? Two unshaven, ashen-faced men leaned lazily against the lotus columns near her, smoking their morning cigarettes. The other three travelers in the room ate a traditional breakfast at the tables against the wall.
    Olivia recognized once again the reader from yesterday and his olderrelative at the far table, so it was a relief that Miranda steered her toward the emptier table, where a lone woman—the talkative one from last night—buttered her toast. She looked mid-twenties, about Miranda’s age, her short straight hair gathered in a spiky ponytail at the back of her head. She had the defiant ease of a person who wasn’t waiting for anyone. They sat across from her.
    “I didn’t know breakfast was included,” Miranda whispered to Olivia, ineffectively attempting to maintain the privacy of their conversation. “I guess it makes up for things a little.”
    “What’s wrong?” the other woman at the table asked in a jarring American accent. “If you need another pillow, ask Hugo. He brought me four last night when I asked for one, and I think one of them was his.” She smirked.
    “I specifically booked a private room for two,” Miranda said, “and they stuck us in the mixed dorm. And when I talked to Hugo about it yesterday, he pretended he didn’t speak English, which I know can’t be true.”
    Olivia wondered briefly if Miranda realized that, were she correct, Hugo, nearby with his mop, would overhear her quite clearly. Someone else did.
    “I have a private room,” the older man at the next table called over with no embarrassment. “My son Greg and I are sharing it.”
    Miranda smiled tightly.
    “That’s nice.”
    Their tablemate leaned forward and, her back to the two men, whispered (far more effectively than Miranda), “Those are the Browns. Beware. I try to ignore them, but they can’t catch a hint. Either of them. It’s like it’s genetic.”
    “Why?”
    “The dad’s a Baptist minister or something. Kinda creepy, kinda off, socially. From the South, sorta crazy, you know, like the spirit catchesthem and they fall down, or whatever.” She leaned back. “Hey, I don’t think I caught your names. I’m Lenny Hawkins.”
    Lenny ventured a hand, which was grasped with restrained enthusiasm.
    “Real name’s Eleanor, but I hate it,” Lenny said. “It’s such an old-person name.” She laughed.
    Miranda’s response was a prolonged blink, but Olivia could tell her sister was thawing.
    “We’re from the South too, actually. Virginia,” Miranda said after their names. “Our mom moved down from New England, but our dad is—was—from a real old Southern family. The library is named after them—the Somerset Public Library.”
    “I can’t imagine being settled in a place that long. Grew up a military brat, and I’ve had itchy feet since I was a kid,” Lenny said. “I’ve lived in Berlin, Dublin,