The Faces of Strangers Read Online Free

In the den, Carmine’s eyes were already glazing over from the pot he had smoked before arriving at Nicholas’s house. He was a large, lunkheaded boy with an exceedingly good nature. From the moment Nicholas had met him, he’d reminded him of Lennie from Of Mice and Men .
    â€œHey, Lefty, you gonna wrestle over there?” he asked Nicholas, prodding him in the side with his elbow.
    â€œI don’t know,” Nicholas said. “Paavo said his school doesn’t have a team, but that he thinks there are club teams around the city I could join. Though I gotta say it doesn’t seem worth it.”
    â€œI bet your coach would be happy if you kept it up,” Toby pointed out. He grabbed a handful of potato chips and fed them to himself one at a time somewhat daintily, rubbing his hands together to shed the excess grease. “Though in a country of a million and a half people, the odds of finding another left-handed wrestler in your weight class are pretty slim.”
    â€œForget wrestling; I bet the girls are smoking,” Chen said.
    â€œWhat about the sister?” Carmine asked. “Didn’t you say she’s a model or something?” He tried to sit up slightly but his heavy shoulders pulled him back into the sofa.
    â€œThat’s what Paavo said. But that doesn’t mean she’s hot,” Nicholas pointed out.
    â€œLefty, please,” Toby said, grabbing another handful of chips. “Of course she’s hot. Estonia has more models per capita than any other country.”
    â€œWhy and how do you know that?” Nicholas asked.
    â€œCommon knowledge,” Toby shrugged. “And Maxim .”
    â€œYeah, but Estonia has like, a million people,” Nicholas said.
    â€œExactly. And with that statistic, it means that a higher percentage of them are hot. The odds are in your favor.”
    â€œYeah, go give up your V card, tiger.” Carmine growled, and the boys joined in, ribbing and poking him.
    â€œHow do you know I still have it, jackass?” Nicholas shot back. He still did, of course. Though he’d dated a modest number of girls, he hadn’t gotten anywhere near losing his virginity. He had to admit, the prospect of starting new in a place without a shared history was exciting. He’d be the new kid, an exotic American. He could use that to his advantage.
    Nicholas looked around at his friends and felt a pang of sympathy that they would be left behind in the drudgery of the eleventh grade at the Manhattan School of Science while he went forth into the world to learn new things and gain invaluable experiences. Who knew if they would ever be the same together again—shrewd, calculating Chen; sharp but lazy Carmine; and affable, overachieving, ever-loyal Toby. Even saying goodbye to them had been a strange departure from their straight-faced, unemotional relationships. Nicholas felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and turned his head away to take a long swig of soda, but the bubbles released up his nose and pressed upon his tear ducts even harder. Chen had even hugged him properly instead of issuing the closed-fist punch trademarked by adolescent boys who refused to show any form of emotion.
    * * *
    But Nicholas had to be strong. He couldn’t walk into this new experience weak-kneed and watery-eyed. He stepped into the car, welcoming the time and the space during the ten-hour flight to Tallinn to gather his thoughts and expectations, but he realized he wasn’t alone.
    Barbara Rothenberg was pressed compactly behind the driver’s seat, her stilt-like legs crossed at the knee. Her perfectly coiffed static helmet of silver hair curled just beneath her chin and neckline, defining her as one of those women people called “handsome,” especially with her judicious use of pantsuits. She reached over to Nicholas and pressed his biceps with her hand, as if assessing him for a fight. It was a strange greeting: a cross