"Cooney, Caroline B - Janie Johnson 02 - Whatever Happened to Janie" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cooney Caroline B)

To make this work, she would have to put Janie Johnson away. To become Jennie Spring with all her heart and mind and soul.
But that too was a lie. And she was resisting with every molecule of energy she possessed. Every time she took a step forward-being nice to Brian- she took two back-pointing out as clearly and viciously as she could that her real family wasn't in New Jersey, her real family ate better, her real father was the one she called Daddy. So there!
As if the Springs were responsible for this.
As if the Springs had kidnapped her and not Hannah.
When the day finally ended, when the lights were finally turned out, Janle pulled the covers over her head in the room she shared with a stranger, buried her face in a pillow that didn't have the right texture or the right smell, and silently wept.
She woke up crying. It was not very late. Eleventhirty. Janle wrapped herself in a bathrobe and went down the hail.
Mr. and Mrs. Spring were In the kitchen, drinking something hot.
"Hello, sweetie," said Mr. Spring.
Janie tried to smile at him. She couldn't. She said. 'Would you let me telephone my mother?" She burst into tears the minute she said It.
"Oh, honey," said Mrs. Spring, "you're not a prisoner here, Jennie. I know it's a big change. I know you're scared. We're all scared. Of course you may telephone Mrs. Johnson."
Janle dialed Connecticut. Her mother said hello
grumpily. She was probably already in bed. "Mom? Mommy?" said Janie, and burst into tears again.
"Hello, darling," said her mother, crying at her end.
"Mommy!" said Janie again, and couldn't go on. She could not say I want to come home, not out loud, not with this other set of parents listening. The Springs' feelings were out on the table, like their mugs of teaor coffee.
But her mother had always understood everything. "It's hard, isn't it, sweetie?" said her mother. "Daddy and I have had a rough time. I'm so glad you called. It's wonderful to hear your voice."
"You haven't really heard my voice," said Janie. "All I said was Mom."
"My favorite word," said her mother,
Janie could not talk, so her mother did. Talked about her day, how she went to do her usual volunteer work and somehow lived through it. How Reeve had come over for a piece of cake and how awkward it had been. How Reeve wanted to telephone her, but it was agreed that she had to learn to swim by getting thrown into cold water.
'What does that mean anyway?" said Jame. It sounded like a bunch of people standing around watching somebody drown.
"You have a new family," said her mother. "I know there must be a million big adjustments."
Janie could not begin to list the adjustments. Especially not when the two biggest adjustments were sitting there.
"It has to work, darling," said her mother. "And that means we have to do our share of work, too. My
work is not driving down there and getting you. Daddy's work is not rekidnapping you and taking us to Mexico to live happily ever after. Your work Is getting to know your new family and doing your best in your new school and figuring out how to be Jennie Spring."
"I don't want to," said Janie. Forbidden sentences rang like steeple bells in her head. Would you
come and get me? If I need you, would you rekidnap me? Are you going to leave me here with these strangers?
But she and her mother and father had been through that. They were not going to come. They were not her parents. They had no rights. They were surrendering her for good.
"I love you, Mommy," she said. She couldn't help it. No matter how much it hurt Mrs. Spring's feelings. Maybe they would be willing to work out a weekend thing, like a divorce. On alternate weekends, she could stay with her real parents.
Mr. Spring said, "Jennie? May I speak to Mrs. Johnson?"
She could hardly let go of the telephone. What if Mr. Spring made things worse? What if he told Janie's mother to butt out?
"We're not the enemy, Jennie," said Mr. Spring with a depth of sadness in his voice that matched her...
her other father's.
She gave him the phone.
Mr. Spring chatted in a forced way. He said that Jennie was doing fine, but everybody knew adjustment would come hard and slow. He said that al
though they had agreed there would be no contact until Jennie had settled in, that was not going to work. "I think she needs to talk to you every day for a while. Then it can taper off."
Janie's heart was flying. She had a lifeline now. When she could not manage any longer, she could pick up the phone and hear the voices that mattered.
Finally she got the phone back. "Sweetie," said her mother, breathless with pleasure, "this is so wonderful. He sounds like a good father, Janie. He loves you, so does she, they're on your team. They're ready to make compromises. So you make some, too. Okay?"
"Okay." Then she talked to Daddy a little. He was gearing up for incometax season. Lots of work to do, which was good, he needed to stay busy. "I love you, Janie," he whispered.
"I love you, too, Daddy," she said.
She forgot there was another Daddy in the room. When she hung up, almost caressing the telephone that she could now use, her New Jersey Dad was gripping his mug so hard she expected him to crush it, like a soda can. She had no idea what to say. She only knew that she felt so much better, so much more able to face tomorrow. She was actually able to smile at these people to whom she was related. "Good night," she said. "And-um'thank you.,'
Her father struggled to return the smile and didn't make it.
"Good night," said her mother, managing an expression that was half sob and half smile.
They are good people, she thought. They are my parents. They are on my team. I could love them if I tried.
Janie fled the hurricane of emotion, feeling her way in the dark bedroom, tucking herself deep under the covers.
And once more she could not sleep. A new nightmare surfaced. She did not have enough love to go around. Whatever love she gave these parents, she would have to take away from the others.
CHAPTER
9.
School passed for Janie.
She found the library. The librarian was different from good old Mr. Yampolski back at her real school. This librarian was more like a prison warden of old dead books than an eager, knowledgethirsty shouter and sharer like Mr. Yampoiski.
She needed books. Since Jodie could sleep with the lights on, Janie would read into the night, keeping nightmares at bay. Her dreams were of falling. The cliff she clung to crumbled and everything around her was bottomless. Dark and slippery with the grime of evil. She would wake up drenched with sweat in the tight little bedroom, only a few feet separating her from the new sister whom she could not enjoy, and who definitely did not enjoy her.
Be nice, Janie ordered herself every morning, each time she faced one of her fan~y, each time she needed to speak with them. She managed this not even half the time. The rest of the time, purposely, she was rotten.