sábado, 31 de mayo de 2008

1º Capítulo traducido...

0 MORDIDAS
1º COMPROMETIDA Nadie te esta mirando, me prometi a mi misma. Nadie te esta mirando. Nadie te esta mirando. Pero, porque no podía mentirme convincentemente ni siquiera a mi misma, tuve que echar un vistazo. Como estaba sentada esperando por las tres luces del tráfico en el pueblo que se volvieran verdes, mire a escondidas a la derecha -en su minivan, La Señora Weber dio vuelta completo su torso en mi dirección. Sus ojos perforaron los míos y me estremecí, preguntándome por qué no bajaba su mirada o se veía avergonzada. Todavía se consideraba rudo mirar fijamente a la gente, ¿no era así?, ¿ya no se aplicaba más eso a mí? Entonces recordé que estas ventanas estaban recubiertas de un color tan oscuro que probablemente ella no tenia idea si incluso yo estaba aquí, quedando claro eso alcance su mirada. Intente encontrar algún alivio en el hecho de que no tenía la vista fija en mí realmente, sólo en el auto. Mi auto. Suspiré. Eche un vistazo a la izquierda y gemí. Dos peatones estaban tiesos en la acera, perdiendo su oportunidad de cruzar mientras miraban fijamente. Detrás de ellos, el Señor Marshall estaba embobado a través de la vidriera de su pequeña tienda de recuerdos. Al menos no tenía la nariz pegada contra el vidrio. Todavía. La luz se volvió verde y en mi apuro por escapar pisotee sobre el pedal del gas sin pensarlo - la forma normal en la que hubiera golpeado a mi viejo monovolumen Chevy para que se moviera. "¡Argh!" grite sofocada mientras buscaba a tientas el freno. Tranquilizándome, simplemente golpe de forma ligera el pedal. De todas formas el auto se tambaleo hasta detenerse absolutamente. No aguante mirar alrededor a la reacción. Si había habido alguna duda de quién estaba manejando este auto antes, se había ido ahora. Con la punta de mi zapato, suavemente presione el pedal del gas hacia bajo un milímetro y medio, y el auto se movió hacia adelante otra vez. Conseguí alcanzar mi meta, la gasolinera. Si no hubiera estado funcionando... No hubiera llegado al pueblo del todo. Iba sin muchas cosas estos días, como Pop-Tarts (galletitas dulces) y cordones de zapatos. Para evitar gastar tiempo en público. Encuentren el capítulo traducido COMPLETO en este blog...

SUERTUDA!!!!!!!

0 MORDIDAS
Oh mi Dios... q hubiera hecho yo si hubiera sido una de las primeras personas que vería en exclusiva la escena entera de la peli que se proyectara en los MTV Movie Awards... y encima... QUE ME LO PIDA ROBERT!! DIOS ME HUBIERA DADO UN ATAQUE AHÍ MISMO!!



La ganadora de un concurso de MTV para cubrir todo lo relacionado a la peli en el preshow es Laura Culpepper, quién posa aquí con Rob después de ver la escena... QUE ENVIDIA!!!

NO SE OLVIDEN DE CHEKEAR SU PROGRAMACIÓN PARA ESTE DOMINGO!!

Portada oficial de y primer capítulo!!!

0 MORDIDAS
POR FIN.

Barnes and Nobles tiene la portada oficial del cuarto y esperado libro...


Además, Entertaniment Weakly tiene en exclusiva parte del 1º capítulo del libro...

ENGAGED

NO ONE IS STARING AT YOU, I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring at you.

But, because I couldn't lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check.

As I sat waiting for one of the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the right — in her minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didn't drop her gaze or look ashamed. It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasn't it? Didn't that apply to me anymore?

Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was even me in here, let alone that I'd caught her looking. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasn't really staring at me, just the car.

My car. Sigh.

I glanced to the left and groaned. Two pedestrians were frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through the plate glass window of his little souvenir shop. At least he didn't have his nose pressed up against the glass. Yet.

The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinking — the normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving.

Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine.

''Arg!'' I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head, I merely tapped the pedal. The car lurched to an absolute standstill anyway.

I couldn't bear to look around at the reaction. If there had been any doubt as to who was driving this car before, it was gone now. With the toe of my shoe, I gently nudged the gas pedal down one half millimeter, and the car shot forward again.

I managed to reach my goal, the gas station. If I hadn't been running on vapors, I wouldn't have come into town at all. I was going without a lot of things these days, like Pop-Tarts and shoelaces, to avoid spending time in public.

Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to annoy me.

It wasn't bright out — a typically drizzly day in Forks, Washington — but I still felt like a spotlight was trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me.

It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that. Besides my dad and mom, did it really matter what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hot in my back pocket right now?

''Yeah, who cares what they think,'' I muttered under my breath.

(c) 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, reprinted with permission from the Eclipse Special Edition published by Little, Brown and Company.

Pronto la traducción!!

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