I killed Bambi E-Book

ZEd Lab

• Herausgeber: 0111 Edizioni
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Silvia and Deborah are two students like many others. They love music and joints, not so much school and rules. One day, they go into their classroom, at their high school in the heart of Rome, and start shooting on their classmates. The first to fall is Eleonora, punished because she was considered the most brilliant and the most beautiful of the students. Other young people will die with her, according to a very precise list that Silvia and Deborah have been preparing for a long time. A real slaughter like those that occur in American colleges or in northern Europe. Except that, for the first time, the shooters are two girls. "I killed Bambi" is the history of this dramatic episode of female bullying, but it is also a journey inside the mind of a teenager, split between anxiety and anger, without references and prospects for the future, like many young people of her generation. A unique novel in its kind, a novel that "begins with the end"...

Leseprobe

English version

This ebook, in origin “Zed Experiments series”, was published as an experiment in English language with Zed Lab.

The ZEdEx stories and novels are translated into a "hybrid" (automatic) version, waiting to be corrected by a reader who knows the target language. Next, the hybrid version was edited by a translator, andthis is the final version in the English language.

Now, from this version you can make a comic, an audiobook, or a direct translation in another language (excluding Italian, English and Spanish).

If you can do it, come with us to Zed Lab.

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Carla Cucchiarelli

I killed Bambi

www.quellidized.it

ExamsCopyright © 2012Zerounoundici Edizioni

Published by ZerounoundiciCover: Picture Shutterstock.com

Ho ucciso Bambi

Copyright © 2012

Zerounoundici EdizioniISBN: 978-88-6578-148-7

Cover: image by Shutterstock.com

Any reference to actual events, places and people is purely coincidental, being the result of the author’s imagination.

"... The silicon chip inside her head

Gets switched to overload

And nobody is gonna go to school today

She’s gonna make them stay at home

And daddy doesn’t understand it

He always said she was good as gold

And he can see no reason

‘Cos there are no reasons

What reason do you need?

Tell me why I don’t like Mondays

Tell me why I don’t like Mondays

Tell me why I don’t like Mondays

I wanna shoot the whole day down..."

("I don’t like Mondays", Bob Geldof)

Surprise party

"In my stomach I am always alone, in your stomach, you're always alone, what I feel, what you feel, they'll never know... at least say if the trip is unique and if it's sunny there, if you're laughing, I won’t mind though, why why not an answers to my whys why don’t you at least make me try on your beautiful waistcoat.”

("Hai un momento, Dio?" Ligabue)

"Then I decided. Let’s do it tomorrow, my birthday, at least we finish with a bang."

"It was about time Silvia. Surprise party?"

"Yeah, it will really be a surprise for everyone."

"OK. Let's check the list then."

"Okay, Debby. But this is the last time, I’m fed up of making plans. We must act."

"What about Sara?"

"Come on. What are you thinking? Saturday she passed me her school test, she’s not a nuisance and she’s nice too. My dear darling..."

"OK, one less. Marina?"

"Are you kidding? Marina is untouchable. She brought me to the last rave party in Viterbo, and you know how badly I wanted to go. Marina is a friend."

"And... Eleonora?"

"Come on... the party is for her. Little miss perfection will have a blast."

Debby smiles with her satisfied-cat look. The party will be done, I’m sure.

We already played the yes-and-no game a hundred times. Let's say it's our last obsession. I pass her a joint. I rolled it a little while ago. Meanwhile, she neatly writes the names on the sheet of a notebook she split in two halves with a crooked pen line. Yes on one side, no on the other. She’s serious, she looks like a diligent child doing her homework. Instead she sits as we like to, knees crossed on the chair and chest thrust forward. She seems to be lying on the large white desk, where makeup tools, crayons and three ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts chase one another. Anyone happening to come into my room would be aware of being in the bunker of a teenage western female, of average tastes and culture. I can’t help it, I am a daughter of my time. I am the Queen, and I love my world. I wanted it this way. Two large posters of Ligabue dominate the pink walls, the stereo blares rock music at full volume. On the floor – I count them in my mind – there are a pair of pants, two shirts and some socks thrown at random. On the bed, resting on a tray, two giant Coke-sized glasses, standing next to two half-empty backpacks. Not far away, lying on a small heart-shaped red plaid, my kitten. It is a Persian, all gray, my father gave it to me a year ago and I called it Cocaine. My father laughed. What the fuck was there to laugh?