（外文电子版资料）Robin Hobb - Cut.pdf

A word of warning: There are scenes in this story that may be disturbing to some. Patsy sits on a bar-stool at my breakfast counter. She is sipping a glass of soy milk through a straw. I glance at her, then look away at my rainforestcam on the wallscreen behind her. My granddaughter had an incisor removed so that she could drink through the straw with her mouth closed. She claims it is more sanitary and less offensive to other people. I don脝t know about other people. It offends the hell out of her grandmother. So. SAT脝s next week? I ask her hopefully. Uh-huh, she confirms and I breathe a small sigh of relief. She had contemplated refusing to take them, on the grounds that any college who wanted to rate her on a single test score was not her kind of place anyway. She swings her feet, kicking the rungs of her stool. I脝m still debating Northwestern versus Peterson University. I try to recall something about Peterson, but I don脝t think I脝ve ever heard of it. Northwestern脝s good, I hedge. As I set a plate of cookies within her reach, I notice a bulge in the skin on her shoulder blade just above the fabric of her tank top. An irritated peace sign seems to be emblazoned on it. What脝s that? New tattoo? She glances over her shoulder at it, then shrugs. No. Raised implant. They put a stainless steel piece under your skin. Works best when there脝s bone backing it up. Mine didn脝t come out very good. Grandma, you know I can脝t eat those things. If the fat doesn脝t clog up my heart, the sugar will send me into a depression and I脝ll kill myself. She nudges the plate of cookies away. I smile and take one myself. I think that脝s a bit of an exaggeration. I脝ve been eating chocolate chip cookies for years. Yeah, I know. And Mom, too. Look at her. Doesn脝t it hurt? I ask, nodding at her implant. I evade the topic of her mom. It is not that I expect my granddaughter to always get along with my daughter. It is that I don脝t want to be wedged into the middle of it