Переводчик Перфилова Марина Сергеевна

Hillary J. Penrose sat alone in her large bedroom, as she often did, that cold and blustery winter morning. A powerful North Eastern storm shook the panes of her bedroom windows. It was typical Boston weather for December. Hillary felt warm and cozy under her down-filled duvet. She gazed ahead at the flickering flames from the fireplace. Her bedroom was a little different from those of other girls her age. Then again, most things about Hillary were a little different. There weren’t any movie of rock star posters adorning her walls. Instead, she had very specifically chosen the design of her bedroom. The ceiling of her room had been carefully painted to look like a perfect summer sky, with fine little fluffy clouds against a deep azure background. A magnificent medieval castle, replete with high turrets, a moat and a drawbridge had been painted on the far wall by her window. The wall by her bed had been painted to resemble an endless three-dimensional green hedge maze. In the corner of her room a massive, ornately carved mirror stood imposingly. Hillary was also lucky to own an extensive collection of interesting stuffed animals. There was a huge, imposing brown kangaroo, a smooth roan colour stallion, a black and silver Gryphon, and many more. One of more would often accompany her on one of her many adventures. She also never traveled far without her pocket princess doll, and of course Digby, who followed her everywhere.
Hillary was quite often told how beautiful she was, and would one day become. The compliment meant very little to her. Her mother, Carolyn Penrose was much more receptive to this sort of praise. The socially conscious and ambitious woman has once tried to enter her in a beauty pageant, but Hillary would have none of it. Now by contrast, if there had been a reading contest for young girls, then she surely would have entered. Books were a vital part of Hillary’s life. She had learned to read at an unusually young age. Her mother never failed to mention this to her relatives and strangers they might meet. It was not a matter of showing off for her; it was just that reading came very easily to Hillary.