Read Online A Different Blue by Amy Harmon - Free Book Online

Icas couldn't be fixed. He was broken for good. I felt broken too, but nobody could tell.
     

Chapter Five

     
    “When the ancient Romans would conquer a new place or a new people, they would leave the language and the customs in tact – they would even let the conquered people rule themselves in most cases, appointing a governor to maintain a foothold in the region.” Wilson leaned against the whiteboard as he spoke, his posture relaxed, his hands clasped loosely.
    “This was part of what made Rome so successful. They didn't try to make everyone Romans in the process of conquering them. When I went to Africa with the Peace Corp, a woman who worked with the Corp said something to me that I have often thought about since. She told me 'Africa is not going to adapt to you. You are going to have to adapt to Africa.' That is true of wherever you go, whether it's school or whether it's in the broader world.
    “When I moved to the States at sixteen, I had my eyes opened to the differences in our language, and I had to adapt to America. I couldn't expect people to understand me or make allowances for the differences in our language and culture. Americans may speak English, but there are regional accents and phrases, different spellings, different terminology for almost everything. I remember the first time I asked someone on campus if they had a fag. It's a good thing I didn't get pounded. In Blighty, a fag is a cigarette, and I was going through a stage where I fancied smoking. I thought it made me look older and sophisticated, see.”
    “What's Blighty?” someone asked amid the snickers that had erupted when Wilson said fag.
    “Blighty is a nickname for Britain. We have nicknames and phrases that would make absolutely no sense at all to any of you. In fact you might need a translater for a while if you lived in London for any length of time, just like I did when I came here. Luckily, I had a couple mates that looked out for me at Uni. I've had years to become Americanized, but I find that old habits die hard, so I thought you might like to hear some British slang. That way if I slip and say something wonky, you'll have an idea of what I'm referring to.
    “For instance, in Britain we call an attractive girl a fit bird . It works for blokes as well. You might say that's a dishy bloke or a dishy bird . We would also say scrummy – which I suppose comes from the word scrumptious. Food is scrummy, naps are scrummy, books are scrummy. You get the idea. And if we like something we say we fancy it. If you fancy a scrummy bird you see at a do or a party, you might try to chat her up or flirt with her. If I were to call you a twit or a tosser I would be calling you an idiot or a jerk. If I were to say you looked smart , I would be referring to your clothing, not your intelligence. If you're daft or nutters or barmy it means you're crazy. And if someone is brassed off or cheesed off in England, it means they're fed up or angry. Not pissed , mind you, that means drunk. We don't say trash or garbage, we say rubbish . And, of course, we swear differently, although we have adopted many of the curse words your mother would object to.”
    “You say bloody and bugger and blast, right?” someone volunteered from the back of the room.
    “Among other things.” Wilson tried to keep a straight face as he continued.
    “We don't 'call' our chums on the phone, we give them a ring or a bell . We also don't have hoods and trunks on our cars, we have bonnets and boots . We don't have bars, we have pubs. We don't have vacumns, we have hoovers , and an umbrella is a brolly . Which, by the way, you must have in England. It's cold, and it's wet. After spending two years in Africa, the thought of going back to Manchester was not appealing. I discovered I loved the sun in large doses. So, although I will always consider myself an Englishman, I don't think I'll ever live in England again.”
    “Tell us some more!” Chrissy giggled.
    “Well, if