AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Yeah, that sounded okay. Sloppy, but enough truth to be believable.
Ilsa sidled up to me and cooed. “Aww, you’re doing it for your girl. For love! You’re doing it for love!”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling lazily. “That too.”That most of all.
I shared my joint with them, and while I’d clearly already won Ilsa over, that brought the guys around. Instant best buddies.
“Fuck me, mate, this is some strong shit,” James said, coughing.
“Neuk mij dood,” Bram said, and it sounded like he was pounding his chest. “Sterk. That’sstrongto you, Amerikaanse.”
“It’s primo,” I said helpfully.
“Primo!” Schuyler said with a screeching laugh, and we all laughed with him.
“Do you speak Dutch, Noah?” Ilsa asked excitedly. It seemed like everything she did was excitedly. She couldn’t sit still. I could feel her vibrating next to me, like a live wire.
“I speak French,” I said.
“Oh, I love French. So romantic. Tell me, what do you say to your girl in French to get her hot, eh?”
The others laughed. I managed a smile.
“She doesn’t speak French.”
“No? Too bad. What a waste.” Ilsa leaned closer. “I speak French. Maybe you will say something hot to me, oui?”
Naturally, I hadn’t the faintest clue what Ilsa might look like, but right then I was hit with a very strong impression: a girl with a soft face but hard, cold eyes. Of warm skin but a bruising touch. A slapper. Someone who would hit a man and then cry hysterically after.
“Ilsa, niet een slet van jezelf niet te maken.” Schuyler laughed. “Noah, thank me. I just told her not to make a slut of herself in front of you.”
“Slet?” Ilsa shrieked in my ear. “Here’s someEnglish.Go fuck yourself, Schuyler!”
Schuyler just chuckled and knocked my knee with his hand to get my attention. “Hey, you need to learn Dutch, ya? I teach you. Say this one. Very important: Neuken in de keuken.”
“Noykehn in de koykehn,” I muttered, feeling stupid. I took a hit off the joint and felt instantly less stupid. “What’s that mean?”
“Fuckin’ in the kitchen,” Schuyler said and laughed like a hyena.
“Sort of loses something in translation,” I said. “If you want something to rhyme…‘Fuck in the truck.’”
We all burst out laughing at this, the dumbest conversation in the history of the spoken word.
“Schuyler, idioot. Teach him something he can use,” Bram said. “Noah, say, Ik moet mijn zonnebrils avond dragen.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said dryly.
“It means, I wear my sunglasses at night,” Bram said. “And you do, ja?”
“Ja,” I said, smiling softly as an old memory echoed faintly in my mind. “Like Bono.”
“Like Bono!” Schuyler screeched.
Everyone laughed so hard, I knew they had to be high as kites, and the vague disquiet I felt for my new ‘friends’ was relegated to background buzzing. We talked and laughed at nothing and made stupid jokes until I could no longer feel the sun on my face.
“Eh, Noah!” Schuyler said suddenly. “We’re off to get dinner and then…you’d say ‘clubbing.’”
“Have you ever been to a dance club in Amsterdam?” Ilsa asked. “You must come with us!”
