Cosmo Read Online Free Page A

blackboards, doodling or dreaming their afternoons away.
    Snap back. Pay attention. Crystle gave herself a shake. It was a strange adolescence, she thought, something she recognized as at once unbearably conflicted and sickly sweet. It made her hurt, ache, with nostalgia to think of it; the only way not to tear up was to imagine today as the logical fulfillment of all that promise. Pay attention . From beyond the next set of doors came the abrupt rush of voices: the rising, nasal twang of several women chatting rapidly in Vietnamese and breaking into full-throated, giddy laughter.
    Croft tugged at the hem of his sweater and continued. ‘Our main mission in the past few months has been to perform reconstructive surgery for children born with certain facial deformities, such as cleft palates and cleft lips. Since 1982, Operation Smile has provided surgical care to over 135,000 children around the world, from over fifty countries. The Mercy ’s been proud to lend a helping hand throughout the entire South Pacific.’ He paused. ‘Does everyone know what I mean by a cleft palate or a cleft lip?’
    The circle of contestants murmured and nodded, looks of concern and compassion breaking out on five troubled brows. Crystle caught Miss Guam’s eyes for a fraction of a second. Was that confusion, incomprehension? A glimmer, anyway. Oh, Guam , Crystle thought, mentally tsk ’ing and feeling more or less back on the ball.
    â€˜Rather than give you more of a tour – which, I gotta admit, must have been boring,’ an admission receiving some relieved laughter, ‘now we’re going to give you the chance to meet some of our patients. Through these doors are several children who’ve been through the final stages of their surgeries and who’re now receiving their concluding assessments. In other words, after today, they can go home for good. This has been a long and difficult process, but our doctors and nurses have been able to give them a fresh start in life. Now these kids’ll be able to eat, speak and interact the way they’ve always wanted to. And I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to meet you!’
    Croft opened the doors with his shoulder. Beyond the or was a long, hall-like room, partitioned at a dozen points by white plastic curtains. Positioned according to some ship-based logic were half as many stainless-steel bed frames, topped with white mattresses and familiar blue sheets. The room teemed with activity, hummed with conversation: Vietnamese civilians, women, alone or in clusters, sat on black folding chairs or stood at the ends of the various beds, some bouncing small children in their arms. A baby bawled, its face muffled against fabric. Some of the closer women stood and scooted their chairs away from the doors, edging nearer to the beds. On each sat a child, wearing street clothes, shorts and T-shirts, sandals or running shoes. Crystle avoided looking at the kids too closely, afraid that staring would be rude. When she didn’t focus, their healing lips were reduced to smudges, a blur around their mouths, any scars mercifully indistinct.
    She found herself standing somewhat awkwardly at the rear of the group, holding her palms against her thighs, scanning the ranks of Vietnamese mothers and grandmothers, their floral-patterned blouses and chestnut skin and thin black eyes summoning visions of the street she’d left behind only forty minutes back in the crazy sunlight and sluggish humidity of the Nha Trang harbour. Little reminders that this was no ordinary hospital, that they weren’t gathered on the upper floors of a walk-in clinic on some mundane street of Houston. Again awash in that sharp, utterly incomprehensible dialect, Crystle felt a painful stab of homesickness. She felt their eyes roaming over her limbs, inspecting her wardrobe, her sash, her figure, the long curve of her neck. Imperfect grins – some with yellow or broken or missing teeth