Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Moments later, heads turned one by one as a curvy dark-haired girl came walking down the street at a steady, graceful pace. She had a startlingly beautiful face, made even more exquisite by an air of self-composure that was not commonly seen in girls her age.
She looked neither left nor right as she came to a stop at the end of the block, and by doing so, she had crushed the hopes of both boys and men around her without even being aware of it. There was just something about her that warned them off. You may look, but you may not touch.
Still unaware of the admiring glances that came her way, Ilse couldn’t help grinning when she spotted a familiar-looking car bearing down her way. It stopped right in front of her, and as the passenger door opened, a boy stepped out, dark eyes shining and chubby cheeks flushed with excitement.
Bending down, she looked past the boy, saying gratefully, “Thank you for driving him here for me, Mrs. Norris.”
“Anything for you two, dear. Are you sure you don’t need a ride home later?”
She did, but Mrs. Norris was seventy-one years old already. It was more than enough that their neighbor had taken the time to bring her brother here. And so Ilse shook her head firmly, saying with a smile, “We’re good. Be dankt.” Thank you.
“You’re always welcome, luv.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Norris.” She gestured for Jan to say the same, and her brother hurried forward, saying cheerfully with an energetic, “Vrolijke Kerstmis!”
Mrs. Norris laughed. “Merry Christmas, Ilse, Jan.”
After watching their neighbor speed away in her trusty Peugeot, Ilse turned to Jan and automatically reached for his collar to fix it. Jan waited patiently and with marked disinterest. There were times when he cared about his appearance, but there were also times – like now – when he didn’t care at all.
When she was done fixing his collar, she asked him, beaming, “Are you ready?”
Jan grinned. “Ja!”
“Then let’s go!” Taking her brother’s hand, Ilse led them to the ticket stalls of Amsterdam Arena. This was the first Christmas that it would be just the two of them, and she needed it to be special.
Her parents’ faces flashed in her mind—-
Their papa asking them to hurry up with the shopping—-
Their mama waking them up in the morning so they could have breakfast together for Christmas—-
She quickly pushed the thought away. Yearning for what’s forever lost only makes the pain worse, Ilse. Remember that.
There is never any point, she told herself strictly, yearning for what’s forever lost.
The lines at the ticket stalls were long, but Jan and Ilse patiently waited for their turn. When the cold started to bite, she pulled her coat more tightly around her and turned to Jan, asking, “Are you cold?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
But his teeth had chattered just a bit, and Ilse swiftly took off her gloves, insisting that he put them on. When Jan started to protest, she gave him her best evil eye, saying, “Do you want to watch the game or not?”
“I want.” Jan’s tone was meek.
Even though he was a full-grown adult, her brother’s condition ensured that he would always look, think, and act like a child. He remained obediently still as she helped him put on her gloves. When they were done, she asked him, “What do you say?”
“Thank you,” her brother said cheerfully, dutifully, and his chubby cheeks turned red with pleasure at being able to do something his sister approved of.
Ilse dug her hands deep into her coat’s pockets, and when she turned away from Jan, she realized belatedly that some of the people standing in line with them had overheard their conversation and were giving them odd looks for it.
Ja, Ilse thought indifferently. Her brother suffered from both a mental disability and a hormonal disorder. She had long gotten over it, and so they would, too.
When it was their turn, Ilse handed the salesclerk her credit card. “Two tickets for general admission, please.”
A moment later, the salesclerk handed it back to her, and Ilse’s worst fears were confirmed.
“It’s been declined, mevreow.”
She had thought this could happen, had tried her best to prepare herself for it, but even so hearing the words still felt like a hard slap to her face. Forcing herself to smile, she gave the salesclerk her second credit card, asking brightly, “Could we try another one?”
You are not the only one to have your credit card declined, Ilse told herself bracingly. It was an embarrassing experience, but it didn’t mean it was the end of the world, ja?
It took but another moment before the salesclerk handed Ilse her second card back. “Sorry, mevreow. This one is not working either.”
Ah. She could feel the people behind her staring, could feel their pity gradually turning into impatience. She tried not to let it get to her, but it was hard, and Ilse hated the way her fingers shook as she pulled out her last card.