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Автор Мелина Марчетта

Jellicoe Road

Melina Marchetta

For Daniel

and

for Max

Contents

Prologue

My father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die.

Chapter 1

I’m dreaming of the boy in the tree and at…

Chapter 2

When it is over, when I’m the last person sitting…

Chapter 3

The territory wars have been part of the Jellicoe School’s…

Chapter 4

Jonah Griggs.

Chapter 5

He went missing on one of the prettiest days Narnie…

Chapter 6

The boy in the tree in my dreams comes calling…

Chapter 7

The next afternoon I walk to Clarence House to find…

Chapter 8

She stood at Webb’s door: Tate, with the wild hair…

Chapter 9

I’m riding as fast as I can. The faster the…

Chapter 10

I’m dreaming. I know I’m dreaming because I’m in a…

Chapter 11

It is dark, surreally dark, and I’m hanging upside down…

Chapter 12

Over the weekend Ben gets word through Raffaela that the…

Chapter 13

Three things happen in the next week that keep us…

Chapter 14

The look on the constable’s face said it all to…

Chapter 15

It’s peaceful like this, on my back. A loving sun…

Chapter 16

By the second day of the holidays everyone has left…

Chapter 17

On one of those days during the holidays when they…

Chapter 18

On the last day of the holidays, Santangelo sends word…

Chapter 19

I go to see Santangelo’s dad at the police station.

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

One day Tate was there, a ghost of Tate, sitting…

Chapter 22

Somewhere on the highway to Sydney I begin to cry…

Chapter 23

“Taylor Markham?”

Chapter 24

During this time I start to get to know my…

Chapter 25

There is a sick feeling in my stomach when we…

Chapter 26

Aftermath. Everyone uses it all the time so I get…

Chapter 27

And life goes on, which seems kind of strange and…

Epilogue

He sat in the tree, his mind overwhelmed by the…

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Praise

Other Books by Melina Marchetta

Credits

Copyright

About the Publisher

Prologue

My father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die.

I counted.

It happened on the Jellicoe Road.

The prettiest road I’d ever seen, where trees made breezy canopies like a tunnel to Shangri-la. We were going to the ocean, hundreds of miles away, because I wanted to see the ocean and my father said that it was about time the four of us made that journey. I remember asking, “What’s the difference between a trip and a journey?” and my father said, “Narnie, my love, when we get there, you’ll understand,” and that was the last thing he ever said.

We heard her almost straightaway. In the other car, wedged into ours so deep that you couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended. She told us her name was Tate and then she squeezed through the glass and the steel and climbed over her own dead—just to be with Webb and me; to give us her hand so we could clutch it with all our might. And then a kid called Fitz came riding by on a stolen bike and saved our lives.

Someone asked us later, “Didn’t you wonder why no one came across you sooner?”