"Babysitters Club 025 Mary Anne And The Search For Tigger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

Logan! I was really happy to hear from him. I just hoped he was calling about business.
"What's up?" I asked him.
"I need a sitter." Actually, he said, "Ah need a sittuh." (Logan's family moved here from Louisville, Kentucky, not long ago.)
"For Kerry and Hunter?" I asked. Kerry is Logan's nine-year-old sister and Hunter is his five-year-old brother. None of us has baby-sat for them before, because Logan always does it.
"Yeah. It's for this Saturday afternoon. Mom and Dad have some tennis thing lined up with friends of theirs, and I'm going to baseball practice at school. I was supposed to sit, but then practice came up. Can one of you do it?"
I was dying to do it, of course, but I had to treat this job like any other. "I'll check our schedules and call you back in just a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay."
This is how we handle club jobs. The person who gets the phone call or who answers the phone never just takes a job. It's open for everyone.
I told the others about the job as I looked at the appointment pages in the record book. "Well," I said, "Kristy, you and Mallory and I are free."
My friends were very generous and let me take the job. I called Logan back. "What's all that sneezing I hear?" I asked, after I'd told him that I would be the sitter.
"Oh, it's my brother. It's allergy season."
"Poor Hunter," I replied, remembering his bare, dust-free bedroom. "He - "I stopped. I had glanced at Kristy. Her eyeballs were practically falling out of her head in her effort to get me to end my personal conversation.
So I said good-bye quickly. Our meeting continued. When it was over, I dashed out the door, calling good-bye to Claudia's grandmother Mimi, who replied in confusion, "I will take six, please."
Then I ran home to play with Tigger.
Chapter 3.
My dad used to be strict with me. Very strict. It wasn't so long ago that I had to fix my hair in braids and wear clothes he picked out, that I had to live in a little-girl room, wasn't allowed to ride my bicycle downtown, couldn't talk on the phone after dinner unless it was about homework, etc. I think my dad made up those rules because he was trying to be a good mother. That may sound funny, but I'm pretty sure it's true. He was nervous about raising a daughter by himself and he wanted me to turn out okay, so he decided he had to practically take over my life.
Luckily, he and I have both been changing lately. I've shown him that I'm more grown up and mature than he thought, and he realized that he doesn't have to live my life for me. So he let me take my hair out of braids and fix up my room so it isn't so babyish. Then came bigger changes. Now I can go places with my
friends and talk on the phone after dinner. But Dad is still Dad. There's a ten-minute time limit on phone calls. And if Logan comes over when Dad isn't home, Logan has to stay outside. He is not allowed in.
Which is why the two of us were sitting outside one Friday afternoon that was so gray it was almost raining. But we had no choice. Well, I suppose we could have gone inside. How would Dad have known? But I just am not able to break one of his rules. I'm afraid he'll find out somehow. Magically, maybe. Anyway, a rule is a rule.
Besides, it wasn't raining, and it was fairly warm, so being outside wasn't actually unpleasant. How could it be unpleasant with Logan next to me, and Tigger playing at our feet?
Logan had untied one of his sneakers and was dangling the lace in front of Tigger. Tigger thought this was a great game. He batted at the lace. He tried to catch it. He stood on his hind legs and stretched out his round tummy, reaching as far as he could.
"Aw, look. He's so cute!" I said. (I say that, oh, sixty-five times a day.)
Logan grinned. I had said it ten or twelve times just since he'd come over.
I changed the subject. "I'm glad today is
Friday. I like school and everything, but . . ."
"But there's nothing like two days off," supplied Logan.
"Right."
"And think of it. This happens once a week. Boy, are we lucky. I'd like to thank whoever arranged things that way."
Tigger got tired of playing with the lace then and darted away from us. He pounced on a bug. He ran after a seed pod that dropped from a tree.
"Aw, he's so cute," I said. Then I called, "Careful, Tigger!" Tigger has only been allowed outdoors for a couple of weeks now. Sometimes I even let him go out alone. He can stay happily in the yard for hours - playing and napping. I worry about him, being outside on his own. Then I remember how great it felt when Dad finally let go of me. I wonder - does Dad worry about me every day the way I worry about Tigger?
"You're sure quiet," said Logan suddenly.
I looked over at him. "I was thinking about how Dad treats me and how I treat Tigger and - "
"Again?" said Logan sharply.
I paused. Logan hardly ever speaks like that. I decided to ignore it. "How's baseball practice going?"
"Fine."
"How's the coach? What's his name?"
"Coach Blake."
Conversational dead end. Okay. . . . Now what?
"Hi-hi!" called a little voice.
It could only belong to Jamie Newton. I glanced up and there he was, standing at the edge of our yard.
"Hi!" I called back.
Jamie's family lives nearby, so the members of the Baby-sitters Club, especially Claudia, sit for the Newtons all the time. Jamie is four and has a baby sister named Lucy.
Jamie ran across the lawn. "Oh, goody!" he exclaimed. "There's Tigger."
Tigger looked like he might be tiring out. He was sitting in the grass - very neatly, with his tail curled around his front feet. But he wasn't doing anything. Nothing I knew about, anyway. Maybe he was doing some secret cat thing.
"Can I play with Tigger, Mary Anne? Please?" asked Jamie.
"Sure," I answered, "but carefully. I'm not sure he wants to play right now."
Jamie lay on the ground near Tigger. He and Tigger looked at each other.
I glanced at Logan. Usually Logan and I
would have turned to each other at a moment like that and smiled. But Logan was staring into the distance.
"Earth to Logan, Earth to Logan," I said, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Come in, Logan."