"BSC050 - Dawn's Big Date - Martin, Ann M" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"Oh, yeah, it is," I replied.
I really felt more sick than excited. I was so nervous, a knot had formed in the pit of my stomach. This was the big moment. Lewis would step off that plane and we'd finally meet.
They say first impressions last. That's why
I had done my best to make an unforgettable first impression. On Thursday afternoon I took all my baby-sitting money and went to Zin-gy's. It's this great store that sells very trendy clothes. I didn't even take Mary Anne with me. I wanted to go by myself.
The salesperson at Zingy's had short maroon hair and four holes pierced in each ear. At first I was intimidated by her hair, but she turned out to be very nice. She helped me put together a great outfit, which was what I was wearing as we waited for Lewis.
Here's the outfit: black ballet slippers; black lace capri leggings; a short metallic silver skirt with all this crinoliny stuff underneath that made it poof out; a stretchy, tight, black-and-white-striped top with long sleeves. I'd bought six rubber bangle bracelets, and a new pair of feather earrings that reached down to my shoulder. (I wore both earrings in the two holes in my right ear. I put a pair of small black hoops in the two holes on the left.) This time I didn't set my hair; I piled it on top of my head, then made six braids.
Mary Anne helped me put on my makeup. "Are you sure you want to wear that skirt?" she asked, as she gently lined my eyes.
"Yes! I bought it especially for tonight," I insisted.
"Okay, I was just asking," said Mary Anne.
When I came down the stairs, my mother was sitting on the couch. She kept opening her mouth, as though she wanted to say something to me, and then closing it. In the end, all she said was, "Don't you need heavier socks? It's cold out."
"I'll be in the car," I told her.
So far, Mom was being very quiet about my new look. I knew she and Richard had talked about it. I passed their bedroom late one night. Their door was half open.-They were speaking softly, but I heard Mom say, "It's just a phase. Let's be patient." I knew who they were talking about.
I was glad Mom felt that way. I hated to tell her this was no phase, but if she wanted to think it was, let her. It made my life easier.
So, thanks to Mom's phase theory, I got out of the house with my .new look. Unfortunately, I wasn't a hundred percent sure of myself. Part of me (the biggest part) thought I looked good that night. I mean, I would have looked good in a magazine. But I wasn't in a magazine. So I felt a little strange. You know. Maybe a bit overdone.
I didn't change anything, though. I knew the old Dawn was just rising up inside me. The old Dawn was still alive and well. She was telling me to wash my face and put on something comfortable.
I couldn't listen to her.
Other boys hadn't liked the old Dawn. Why should Lewis? If I wanted him to like me, I had to stick with my plan and let the new Dawn shine through.
"There he is!" Logan cried suddenly.
A boy with short, wavy, dark hair strode out the doorway along with the other arriving passengers. Lewis had told me in a letter that he was five feet, ten inches, but he looked taller. He was thin but not skinny. And a lot handsomer than he looked in his picture.
In a moment he spotted us. His face broke into this absolutely great smile Ч even better than the smile in his picture.
I'm not sure what love at first sight feels like. But I think that's what I felt right then. Lewis was even better than I'd expected. Mary Anne had been right, too. He had a great voice.
"Hi! Hi," he said as he hugged his aunt and uncle. He and Logan hugged, then they punched each other on the arms a little. "Man! I'm glad to see you!" Lewis told Logan.
"Me, too!" said Logan. "We are going to have a blast." Logan stood there smiling, then he remembered Mary Anne and me. "This is Mary Anne. And this is Dawn."
"Hi," I said a little shyly.
"Dawn, hi," said Lewis. He didn't give me
his big, gorgeous smile. His mouth kind of quivered up into a small shaky one. "We meet at last."
"Yup," 1 said. (Real brilliant of me.)
"How was your flight, dear?" Mrs. Bruno asked, putting her arm around Lewis.
"A little bumpy," he said. "But not bad."
Together, we headed back to the car. Lewis had only brought his carry-on suitcase so we didn't have to go to the baggage terminal. Soon we were riding on the highway back to Connecticut, with the city lights dimly flickering behind us. Logan, Mary Anne, Lewis, and I were squinched together in the backseat. Lewis was by the window, and I was between him and Mary Anne.
"I have a question, Lewis," said Mary Anne, happy and chirpy. "Is Dawn the way you pictured her?"
I wanted to die!
"Not really," he answered. He turned to me and smiled that quivery smile again. "You do look more like the second picture you sent. But I guess I had a different idea of you. Do I seem the same to you?"
"Yeah," I answered. I couldn't say, "Oh, no, you're much dreamier than I expected!" Could I? Maybe I should have. That's the kind of thing guys like to hear. I think. It just
sounded too dumb to say. Especially since he hadn't said anything like that about me.
I had a feeling I wasn't doing too well with Lewis.
Apparently Mary Anne had the same feeling.
No sooner had the Brunos dropped us off at our driveway than she, turned on me. "What is the matter with you?" she exploded.
"What do you mean?" I asked, heading for the house.
"I'm supposed to be the shy one!" she said, as she walked beside me. "All you said was, 'hi, yeah, no.' How about showing him a little personality?"
"I didn't know what to say/' I grumbled. "He didn't like me, anyway. I could tell."
"Hi," said Richard, as we walked through the door. "How did it go?"
"Great!" said Mary Anne.
"Awful," I said at the same time.
"I see," said Richard, knitting his brow. I didn't feel like talking to him or anyone else. Throwing off my coat, I stormed up the stairs.
"Don't worry," I heard Mary Anne tell her father. "She'll be okay."
I was in my room, tearing off my clothing, when Mary Anne came in. "I'm sorry I yelled," she apologized. "You were just ner-
vous. And I know you don't have much experience with boys. I shouldn't have shouted at you."
"Forget it, Mary Anne," I said, as I pulled off my lace leggings and threw them on the bed. "It was a dumb idea. He hates me. I told you he would. Boys hate me. That's just how it is."
"He doesn't hate you," said Mary Anne, picking up one of the fashion magazines from the desk. "How could he hate you? You didn't say anything for him to hate. You didn't say anything! That was the problem."