"Blume, Judy - Just As Long As We're Together" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blume Judy)

"1 don't need to have my books arranged in any special order," I said.
"But how will you find them?"
"I recognize them by their color."
Rachel laughed. "You're hopeless!"
Later, I walked Rachel home. It's funny, because when I first heard we were going to move I cried my eyes out. Then, when my parents told me we were moving to Paifrey's Pond, I couldn't believe how lucky I was, since that's where Rachel lives. Now, besides being best friends we'll also be neighbors. And moving just a few blocks away really isn't like moving at all. I think the only reason we moved is that our house needed a new roof and Mom and Dad just about passed out when they learned what it would cost.
The houses at Palfrey's Pond are scattered all around, not lined up in a row like on a regular street. They're supposed to look old, like the houses in a colonial village. Rachel's is on the other side of the pond. When we got there she said, "Now I'll walk you home."
I looked at her and we both laughed.
When we got back to my house I said, "Now I'll walk you."
Then Rachel walked me home.
Then I walked her.
Then she walked me.
We managed to walk each other home nine times before Mom called me inside.
3.
Alison
The day before school started was hot and still. I was hanging out by the pond, dipping my feet into the water. That's when I first saw the girl. She was crouching by the tree with the big hole in it. I figured she was trying to get a look at the raccoon family that lives inside. I've never seen them myself, but my brother has.
I shook the water off my feet, put on my sandals, and walked over to her. She looked about Bruce's age. Her red and white striped T-shirt came down to her knees. Probably it belonged to her father. Her hair was long. She hadn't brushed it that day. I could tell by her crooked part and the tangles at the ends. I guess
she wasn't worried about stepping on a bee because she was barefoot.
She had a small dog with her, the kind that has fur hanging over its eyes. As soon as I came close the dog started to bark.
"Be quiet, Maizie," the girl said. Then she turned to me. "Hi. . . I'm Alison. We just moved in. You probably didn't notice because we didn't have a moving van. We're renting Number 25."
"I'm Stephanie," I said. "I live here, too. Number 9."
Alison stood up and brushed off her hands. She reached under her T-shirt, into the pocket of her shorts, and pulled out a card. I was really surprised because I got one just like it last week. On the front it said, Looking forward . . . And inside it said, to meeting you next Thursday. It was signed Natalie Remo, seventh grade homeroom teacher, Room 203.
"What do you know about Mrs. Remo?" Alison asked. "Because that's who I've got for homeroom."
I guess she could tell I was surprised. She said, "You probably thought I was younger. Everyone does since I'm so small. But I'm going to be thirteen in April."
I didn't tell her I'd thought she was Bruce's age. Instead I said, "I'll be thirteen in February." I didn't mention the date either-February 2-
Ground Hog Day. "I'm in Mrs. Remo's homeroom, too. She sent me the same card."
"Oh," Alison said. "I thought she sent it to me because I'm new. I'm from Los Angeles."
"My father's there now, on business," I told her. He's been there since the beginning of August, ever since we moved. I don't know how long he's going to be away this time. Once he had to go to Japan for six weeks.
Maizie, the dog, barked. Alison kneeled next to her. "What'd you say, Maizie?" she asked, pressing her ear right up to Maizie's mouth.
Maizie made a couple of sounds and Alison nodded, then giggled. "Oh, come on, Maizie," she said, as if she were talking to her dog. Then Alison looked up at me. "Maizie is such a character! She told me to tell you she's glad we're in the same homeroom because she was worried about me not knowing anyone in my new school."
"Your dog told you that?"
"Yes," Alison said. "But look . . . I'd really appreciate it if you didn't say anything about it. Once people find out your dog can talk, forget
it. In L.A. there were always reporters and photographers following us around. We're trying to avoid the same kind of publicity here."
"You mean," I said, "that your dog actually talks. . . like Mr. Ed, that talking horse who used to be on TV?"
"That horse didn't really talk," Alison said, as if I didn't know.
"Well," I said, scratching the mosquito bite on my leg, "exactly how does Maizie talk? I mean, does she talk in human words or what?"
"Of course she talks in words," Alison said. "But she doesn't speak perfect English because English isn't her first language. It's hard for a dog to learn other languages."
"What's her first language?" I asked.
"French."
"Oh," I said, "French." Now this was getting really good. "I'm taking Introduction to French this year."
"I'm taking Introduction to Spanish," Alison said. "I already speak French. I lived outside of Paris until I was six."
"I thought you were Chinese or something," I said.
"I'm Vietnamese," Alison said. "I'm adopted. My mother's American but she was married to Pierre Monceau when they adopted me. He's French. Mom came to the States after they got divorced. That's when she met Leon. He's my stepfather."
I absolutely love to hear the details of other peoples' lives! So I sat down beside Alison, hoping she would tell me more. Bruce says I'm nosey.
But that's not true. I've discovered, though, that you can't ask too many questions when you first meet people or they'll get the wrong idea. They may not understand that you're just very curious and accuse you of butting into their private business instead.
Alison fiddled with a twig, running it across Maizie's back. I didn't ask her any of the questions that were already forming in my mind. Instead I said, "Would your dog talk to me?"
"Maybe . . . if she's in the mood."
I cleared my throat. "Hi, Maizie," I said, as if I were talking to a little kid. "I'm your new neighbor, Stephanie Hirsch."
Maizie cocked her head at me as if she were actually listening. Her tiny bottom teeth stuck out, the opposite of mine. My top teeth stuck out before I got my braces. The orthodontist says I have an overbite. That would mean Maizie has an underbite.
"What kind of dog are you," I asked, patting her back. Her fur felt sticky, as if she'd been rolling in syrup.
"She's a mixture," Alison said. "We don't know anything about her parents so we don't know if they could talk or not. Probably not. Only one in seventeen million dogs can talk."