"Blume, Judy - Starring Sally J. Freedman As Herself" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blume Judy)

"Tell you what. . ." Daddy said, "you can share it."
"Her head's so little it'll cover her whole face," Douglas said.
"Little heads are better than big ones," Sally told him.
"Children. . . please . . ." Mom said. Daddy put Sally down and went off to sing with a group of men. Sally took Mom aside and said, "I don't feel so good."
"What is it?" Mom asked, looking concerned. "My throat hurts . . . and my stomach feels funny."
Mom touched Sally's forehead. "You don't feel warm . . . it's probably just all the excitement."
"I don't think so," Sally said, "I feel sick."
"Let's stay out just a little while longer . . . it's warm enough . . . I'm sure you won't get a chill."
Mom took Sally's hand.
"But Mom . .
"Try not to think about it," Mom said. "Tonight is special."
"I know, but . .
"Think about peace instead . . . think about Uncle Jack coming home . . . think about Tante Rose and Lila . .
"Who are they?"
"You know . . . Ma Fanny's sister and her
daughter . . . my Aunt Rose and my cousin, Lila . . ."
"Oh, them. . . the ones Hitler sent away . . "Yes. Maybe now we can find out where they are.
"Do you think they're in New Jersey?" Sally asked.
"No, honey . . . they're far away . . . they're somewhere in Europe."
"Oh. . . my throat still hurts bad."
"Please, Sally," Mom said, "try for me . . Sally tried to think of other things, as her mother said. She kept marching even though she felt worse and worse. Finally, she couldn't wait anymore. "Mom . . . I think I'm going to . . ." She ran to the side of the boardwalk, leaned over the rail and threw up onto the beach.
"Oh, honey. . . I'm sorry," Mom said. "I should have listened." She wiped Sally's mouth with a Kleenex. "Don't cry. . . . it's all right . . ."
"I didn't mess myself up," Sally said, sniffling. "See. . . I was really careful, wasn't I?"
"Yes, you were."
"I knew you wouldn't want me to get it on my dress."
"That's right . . . it's just as easy to be careful..."
They went back to the rooming house and Mom
took Sally's temperature. It was 103░. She put Sally to bed, gave her some ginger ale to sip and lay a cold, wet washcloth on her forehead. "If only I had listened when you first told me you weren't feeling well . . . I was so excited myself She kissed Sally's cheek. "Try and get to sleep . . . tomorrow we'll go to the doctor. . ." Mom pulled a chair up to Sally's cot and sat beside her. Sally closed her eyes and listened to the sounds outside. Cheering, horns tooting, singing. . . laughter. .
sounds of the celebration. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.1.
Sally had a scab on her knee from falling off her bicycle last week. It itched. She scratched the area around it, knowing that the scab wasn't ready to come off yet. She was sitting on the high-backed chair near the fireplace and her feet didn't quite reach the floor. She wished they would.
"Little pitchers have big ears," Uncle Jack said, with a nod in her direction. On the far side of the living-room Mom, Ma Fanny, Aunt Belle and Uncle Jack were huddled together. They spoke in hushed voices so that Sally could make out only a few words.
"God forbid. . . keep your fingers crossed...never should have gone there . . ."
They were talking about Douglas. Something had happened to him. Sally wasn't exactly sure what, but Daddy was at the hospital now, with Douglas, and Mom was waiting impatiently for the phone to ring, with news about him.
Sally ran her hands along the arms of the chair. Itwas covered in pink and green flowered material, shiny and almost new. The whole livingroom was pink and green although Mom didn't say pink. She said rose-beige. It was a beautiful room, soft and peaceful. Sally loved it. She wished they used it every day and not just on special occasions.
One Sunday her father built a fire in the brick fireplace and he and Sally and Douglas sat around on the floor reading the funnies. But Mom said it made a mess. So they'd had no more log fires. On either side of the fireplace bookcases climbed to the ceiling and between them, and over the fireplace, was a large mirror, reflecting the rest of the room.
Something had to be very wrong with Douglas. Otherwise why were they sitting in the living-room tonight?
"Stop picking, Sally." Mom said. "You'll only make it worse."
Sally took her hand away from her knee. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and yawned.
"Why don't you go up to bed?" Mom asked, "Look how tired you are."
"I'm not tired."
"Don't give me a hard time," Mom snapped. "Just go on up," Aunt Bette touched Mom's shoulder, then walked over to Sally. "Come on," she said. "I'll keep you company while you get ready."
They went upstairs to Sally's room. Aunt Bette flopped across the bed. She was Mom's younger sister. She taught fourth grade and sometimes she brought marbles to Sally and Douglas, marbles that had wound up in her Treasure Chest because someone in her class had been fooling around with them instead of paying attention. And once a marble found its way into Aunt Bette's Treasure Chest the owner could kiss it goodbye. That's why Douglas and Sally had such great marble collections. Sally's favorite was clear green all over.
"Mom's mad at me," Sally said, "and I didn't do anything."
"She's not mad," Aunt Bette said. "She's worried about Douglas, that's all."
"She acted mad." She didn't have to holler."
"Try to understand."
"What's the matter with Douglas, anyway?"
"He's had an accident."
Sally knew that. She'd been outside tossing her pink Spalding ball against the side of the house when two boys carried Douglas to the back door. There'd been a big commotion then and Sally was sure of just one thing. Douglas was crying. She'd been surprised about that.
"They were playing in Union Woods," Aunt Bette said, "and Douglas tried to jump across the brook but he lost his balance and fell and when he did he dislocated his elbow."