Resumen de lo que ocurre en enero, yuppiee, aunque ya estamos a mitad. Okay, vamos allá:
Viernes 14: Cumple de Marina, ¡¡a bailar en clase de inglés la macarena!!Lunes 17: fiesta en el cole, ¡¡vivaa!! Creo que es San Antón y que solo es fiesta en Molina de Segura, pero we... ¬¬-
Lunes 17(sí, otra vez)- Martes 16: Es la cosa esa del esquí, ¿no? Martes 25: ¡¡¡Cumple de sper Ireneee!!! Yupiiee, bueno... también es la Conversión de San Pablo, pero me parece más importante lo otro...
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Vale, y... ahora a otra cosa mariposa... He conseguido otro fragmento de Cazadores de Sombras: City of Fallen Angels. Lo siento, está en inglés,(ya podría traducírmelo sirenavarada...) espero poder traducirlo. ¡¡Ah!! Y también tengo que decir que el libro saldrá en E.E.U.U. en abril, o sea, que aqui llegará antes de que llegué el verano(jooo... aún falta mucho). Bueno... tomad fragmento:
Simon glanced toward the window. It was a brisk night, and the wind was blowing leaves across Second Avenue like handfuls of thrown confetti. There was a girl walking down the street, a girl in a tight belted trench coat, with long black hair that flew in the wind. People turned to watch her as she walked past. Simon had looked at girls like that before in the past, idly wondering where they were oing, who they were meeting. Not guys like him, he knew that much.
Except this one was. The bell on the diner’s front door rang as the door opened, and Isabelle Lightwood came in. She smiled when she aw Simon, and came toward him, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of the chair before she sat down. Under the coat she was wearing one of what Clary called her “typical Isabelle outfits”: a tight short velvet dress, fishnet stockings, and boots. There was a knife stuck into the top of her left boot that Simon knew only he could see; still, everyone in the diner was watching as she sat down, flinging her hair back. Whatever she was wearing, Isabelle drew attention like a fireworks display.
Except this one was. The bell on the diner’s front door rang as the door opened, and Isabelle Lightwood came in. She smiled when she aw Simon, and came toward him, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of the chair before she sat down. Under the coat she was wearing one of what Clary called her “typical Isabelle outfits”: a tight short velvet dress, fishnet stockings, and boots. There was a knife stuck into the top of her left boot that Simon knew only he could see; still, everyone in the diner was watching as she sat down, flinging her hair back. Whatever she was wearing, Isabelle drew attention like a fireworks display.
Beautiful Isabelle Lightwood. When Simon had met her, he’d assumed she’d have no time for a guy like him. He’d turned out to be mostly right. Isabelle liked boys her parents disapproved of, and in her universe that meant Downworlders—faeries, werewolves, and vamps. That they’d been dating regularly for the past month or two amazed him, even if their relationship was limited mostly to infrequent meetings like this one. And even if he couldn’t help but wonder, if he’d never been changed into a vampire, if his whole life hadn’t been altered in that moment, would they be dating at all?
¿Estarán Simon e Issabelle saliendo? ¿Qué pasa con Maia? Lo sabremos... tarde, muy tarde...
