I threw my hands up to my nose. “They do not!”
“Indeed,” Grandmère said, clearly enjoying herself immensely. “If you do not believe me, look in the mirror.”
I turned around to face the nearby full-length mirrors. Taking my hands from my face, I examined my nose. My nostrils weren’t flaring. She was crazy.
“I’ll ask you again, Amelia,” Grandmère said, in a lazy voice, from her chair. “Are you in love with anyone right now?”
“No.” I lied, automatically. . . .
And my nostrils flared right out!
Oh, my God! All these years I’ve been lying, and it turns out whenever I do, my nostrils totally give me away! All anyone has to do is look at my nose when I talk, and they’ll know for sure whether or not I’m telling the truth.
How could no one have pointed this out to me before? And Grandmère—Grandmère, of all people—was the one who figured it out! Not my mother, with whom I’ve lived for fourteen years. Not my best friend, whose IQ is higher than Einstein’s.
No. Grandmère.
If this got out, my life was over.
“Fine,” I cried dramatically, spinning away from the mirror to face her. “All right, yes. Yes, I am in love with somebody else. Are you happy now?”
Grandmère raised her painted-on eyebrows.
“No need to shout, Amelia,” she said, with what I might have taken for amusement in anyone other than her. “Who might this special someone be?”
“Oh, no,” I said, holding out both my hands. If it wouldn’t have been totally rude, I’d have made a little cross out of my index fingers and held it up toward her—that’s how much she scares me. And if you think about it, with her tattooed eyeliner, she does look a little like Nosferatu. “You are not getting that information out of me.”
Grandmère stamped out her cigarette in the crystal ashtray Sebastiano had provided, and went, “Very well. I take it, then, that the gentleman in question does not return your ardor?”
There was no point in lying to her. Not now. Not with my nostrils.
My shoulders sagged. “No. He likes this other girl. This really smart girl who knows how to clone fruit flies.”
Grandmère snorted. “A useful talent. Well, never mind that now. I don’t suppose, Amelia, that you are acquainted with the expression dirty dishwater is better than none?”
I guess she must have been able to tell from my perplexed expression that this was one I hadn’t heard before, since she went on, “Do not throw away this Kenny until you have managed to secure someone better.”
I stared at her, horrified. Really, my grandmother has said—and done—some pretty cold things in her time, but this one took the cake.
“Secure someone better?” I couldn’t believe she actually meant what I thought she meant. “You mean I shouldn’t break up with Kenny until I’ve got someone else?”
Grandmère lit another cigarette. “But of course.”
“But Grandmère.” I swear to God, sometimes I can’t figure out if she’s human or some kind of alien life force sent down from some other planet to spy on us. “You can’t do that. You can’t just string a guy along like that, knowing that you don’t feel the same way about him that he feels about you.”
Grandmère exhaled a long plume of blue smoke. “Why not?”
“Because it’s completely unethical!” I shook my head. “No. I’m breaking up with Kenny. Right away. Tonight, as a matter of fact.”
Grandmère stroked Rommel under the chin. He looked more miserable than ever, as if instead of stroking him, she was peeling the skin away from his body. He really is the most heinous excuse for a dog I have ever seen.
“That,” Grandmère said, “is your prerogative, of course. But allow me to point out to you that if you break off your relationship with this young man, your Biology grade will suffer.”
I was shocked. But mostly because this was something I had already thought of myself. I was amazed Grandmère and I had actually shared something.
Which was really the only reason I exclaimed, “Grandmère!”
“Well,” Grandmère said, flicking ash from her cigarette into the ashtray. “Isn’t it true? You are only making what, a C, in this class? And that is only because that young man allows you to copy his answers to the homework.”