Read Online Queen of Babble by Meg Cabot - Free Book Online

critic, and essayist I’m here! I’m finally here, in England!
    And okay, it’s notexactly what I’d expected. I really did think Andrew had his own place.
    But it’s not like he LIED to me.
    And maybe this is better than if the two of us had just holed up in his flat, making sweet love all night and day. This way, I’ll be forced to interact with his family. We can sort of test each other out, the Marshalls and I, and see if we are compatible. After all, you don’t want to marry into a family that hates you.
    Plus, while Andrew’s out working, I can start my thesis. Maybe one of the Marshalls will let me borrow a computer. And I can do some research at the British Museum. Or whatever it’s called.
    Yes, honestly, it’s much better this way. I’ll really get to know Andrew and his family, and I’ll get a good solid start on my thesis. Maybe I can even get it done before I get home! That would be so great! My parents will never even know there was a slight delay in my actual graduation.
    Mmm…I smell something coming from the kitchen. I wonder what it is. It smells good…sort of. It doesn’t smell a bit like the scrambled eggs and bacon that are my mom’s specialty. Really, it’s just so kind of Mrs. Marshall to make breakfast for me. I told her she didn’t have to…She seems so nice, with her sandy-brown bob. She told me to call her Tanya—though of course I never will. Her eyes got kind of wide when I walked in and Mr. Marshall introduced me. But whatever it was that was freaking her out about me, she didn’t let on.
    I certainly hope she didn’t guess about my underwear. Or lack thereof. What if THAT’S why she’d stared at me like that? She’s probably thinking, Of all the girls in America for my son to bring home, he had to pick a slut. I knew I should have worn something different getting off the plane. And I’m so cold in this stupid dress, I know I must have had some nipple action going on. Maybe I should change into something a little less…thin. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll change into some jeans and my beaded sweater set—even though I was saving that for evenings, when I thought it might be a bit cooler…
    Little did I know it’s evening cool here all day long.
    Okay. Wow, whatever Mrs. M is cooking in there sure smells—strongly. I wonder what it is? Also why it seems familiar.
    You know, my MDF bed isn’t so bad. It’s kind of cute, really. It’s like the kind of bed Ty Pennington would make for some kid who has cancer on thatExtreme Makeover: Home Edition show.
    Only his version would be shaped like a heart ventricle, or a spaceship, or something.
    Okay, there, I’m ready. Just give the hair a little toss, and—hmm, too bad there’s not a mirror in here.
    Oh well, British people clearly aren’t as vain as we are in the U.S. Who cares if my mascara is smudged or whatever? I’m sure I look fine. Okay. I’ll just throw the curtain back, and—
    “Oh my,” Mrs. Marshall says brightly. “I thought you were going to have a bit of a lie-down.”
    Hadthat been what she’d been saying to me a little while ago? I couldn’t really understand her. Oh,why Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    did Andrew have to go off to work? I clearly need a translator.
    “I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I’m just way too excited to sleep!”
    “Is this your first time in England, then?” Mrs. M wants to know.
    “It’s my first time outside of the U.S. ever,” I say. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.” This is a slight lie. What she’s cooking just…smells. Still, it willprobably be delicious. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
    “Oh no, dear, I think I’ve got it under control. How are you liking your bed, then? Not too hard? It’s all right?”
    “Oh, it’s great,” I say, slipping onto a stool at the end of the kitchen counter. I can’t tell what’s sizzling in the pans on the stove in front of her because