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

Mrs. Remo smiled at us. "All right. . . let's see who's here today." She called our names in alphabetical order. Amber Ackbourne was first. She always is.
When Mrs. Remo called my name I raised my hand and said, "Here. . ." As I did, Eric Macaulay turned around and whispered, "Hershey Bar." I tried to kick him but I missed and kicked the leg of the chair instead. I hurt my foot so bad I groaned.
"Yes, Stephanie? Did you have something to say?" Mrs. Remo asked.
"No," I said, and Eric Macaulay laughed.
When she got to Alison Mrs. Remo pronounced her last name Mon See U.
Alison corrected her. "It's spelled M-o-nc-e-a-u," she said. "But it's pronounced Mon So. It's French."
"Of course," Mrs. Remo said. "I should have known."
Everyone turned and looked at Alison. Alison just sat there as if she didn't notice but I could see her clutching her favorite stone.
After that we got our locker assignments and our class schedules. Then Mrs. Remo told us when the bell rang we should proceed to our first class in an orderly way. We waited for the bell, then we all jumped up and raced for the door.
"Orderly. . ." Mrs. Remo reminded us.
Rachel was already in the hail, waiting. "Well," she said, "let's see your schedule."
I handed itto her. I knew from the expression on her face that the news wasn't good before she said, "I can't believe this. We don't have one class together. Not one!"
"Let me see," I said, reaching for her schedule and mine. I compared them. "Look at this," I said. "We both have first lunch period. And we're in the same gym class."
"Gym," Rachel sniffed. "Big deal."
I felt bad for Rachel because Alison, Miri Levine and I are in the same English, math and social studies classes. Rachel has math first period, with Mrs. Remo. I said, "You're lucky. She's nice."
"Out of my way, Hershey Bar!" Eric Macaulay said, shoving me.
"Watch it," I told him.
"Watch it yourself," he said. "I've got to get to my math class. If I can only find room 203."
"This is room 203," Alison told him.
He looked up at the number on the door. "Hey, you're right. I've got math right here. Right in my own homeroom."
"Oh no!" Rachel groaned. "I'm in his math class. It couldn't be worse."
"Yes it could," I told her.
"You know your problem, Stephanie?" Rachel said.
"No, what?"
"You're an eternal optimist!"
"What's an optimist?"
"Look it up!"
As soon as I got to English class I looked up optimist in the dictionary. Optimist: One who has a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of happenings and to anticipate the most favorable result. Well, I thought, what's wrong with that?
6.
Maizie's Story.
That afternoon, on our way to the school bus, Rachel admitted school hadn't been that bad. She knew some kids in her classes from last year and one, Stacey Green, she knew from music camp.
"You see? I told you it would all work out. The Eternal Optimist strikes again."
Rachel raised her eyebrows at me.
'Optimist'," I said, "'one who has a tendency to look on the more favorable side of happenings'."
"I'm impressed," Rachel said.
The boy in the chartreuse dragon jacket sat behind us on the bus. I heard him say something about a left wing to the boy next to him. I wasn't sure if he was talking about a bird or a plane.
When we got off the bus Alison asked us both to come over to her house.
Rachel said, "I have a flute lesson at four. thirty."
"You play the flute?" Alison asked.
"Yes," Rachel said.
"Are you any good?" Alison asked.
I laughed. Alison didn't know yet that Rachel is good at everything. "She's practically a professional," I told Alison.
"I'm not that good," Rachel said.
Alison checked her watch. "Look, it's only three-thirty . . . so why don't you come over for a little while? My dog can talk."
Rachel glanced at me. I wasn't supposed to have told anyone about Maizie so I hoped she wouldn't give me away.
"Your dog can talk?" Rachel asked.
"Uh huh," Alison said.
"Well . . ." Rachel said, "I guess I could come over for a little while."
Maizie met us at Alison's kitchen door, shaking her little rear end from side to side, then leaping into the air. Alison put her books on the kitchen table and scooped Maizie up into her arms. She put her face right up close to Maizie's. It looked like they were talking-in French, I think. It was hard to tell because Alison spoke very softly. But
Maizie nodded, made small sounds and sometimes let out a bark.