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

"Thanks, but I think I could use a change," I replied.
What I'd said was true, but only partly true. My silent resolution had been to get a boyfriend. And that would mean becoming more attractive to boys. I wasn't quite sure yet what I'd have to do. But whatever it was I was determined to do it.
Chapter 4.
t snowed the day I went to sit for the Hills. Although I detest the cold weather, I do like snow. At least while it's falling. It makes everything so pretty and clean-looking. I feel as if I'm in one of those glass balls. You know, the kind that you shake, and snow swirls around a plastic house or snowman. I looked down at my black wool gloves and saw individual snowflakes that had fallen on them. They were beautiful.
So I was in a good mood as I rang the Hills' doorbell. After a minute or two, the door opened.
"Yes?" said Sarah Hill. She was a slim, pretty girl with large brown eyes. Her thin brown hair was cut in bangs and fell softly to the bottom of her long neck.
"Hi, Sarah," I said. "I'm Dawn. I'm here to baby-sit for you and your brother."
"Oh," she said, as if she hadn't known a
baby-sitter was coming. "Come in. I'll get my father."
As soon as she turned around and ran up the stairs, Sarah dropped her ladylike manner. "Dad!" she bellowed, disappearing down the hall. "Did you hire a baby-sitter?"
The Hills' house was modern with an unusual layout. As you walked in the front door, you entered a small hallway. To the left was a stairway leading upstairs. To the right was another stairway leading down. From where I stood in the front hall, I could see the kitchen at the top of the stairs on the left.
In a minute, Mr. Hill came to the upstairs landing. He was a very tall man with broad shoulders. He was almost bald. If it weren't for some brown hair on the sides, he would have reminded me of Mr. Clean. (He didn't have an earring like Mr. Clean, but you get the idea.)
"Hello," he said. "Your name is Dawn, right?"
"Right," I replied.
"Harold Hill." When I reached the top of the stairs he shook my hand. His hands were huge.
Standing in the kitchen, looking at us, was Norman Hill. He had short wispy, blond hair and bright blue eyes. And he was fat. (I don't mean to be unkind. There's just no other way
to say it. He wasn't stout. He wasn't husky or stocky or pudgy. He was fat.) "Hi," I greeted him. "You must be Norman. I'm Dawn."
His face lit up when he smiled at me. "I didn't know you were coming/' he said pleasantly.
Mr. Hill opened the coat closet in the hall and began to pull on his red down jacket. "Yes, that's my fault," he said. "I forgot to mention to the kids that I had to go out. I'm a computer systems consultant. I work here at home. It seems everyone is having computer problems today. I've been on the phone since this morning. Now I have to see a potential new client."
Stepping into the kitchen, Mr. Hill grabbed a long yellow pad from the counter. He ruffled Norman's wispy hair. "See ya, sport," he said, heading down the stairs.
"Wait! Wait!" I called. "Where are you going to be in case I need you?"
Mr. Hill took his wallet from his back pocket. He dug through it until he found the business card he wanted. "Here," he said, handing it to me. "Here's where I'll be. My wife will be home before me, about seven, seven-thirty."
"Do Norman and Sarah get supper or anything?" I asked.
With a quick movement, Mr. Hill checked his watch. I guess he was running late. "No. Michelle, my wife, will feed them when she comes in. Anything else?"
"Do the kids get any medicine? Are they allergic to anything? Is there anything else I should know about them?"
"Nope, not a thing," he said, as he turned and headed out the door. I wondered if he was always in such a hurry.
"So, Norman," I said, as I hung up my coat. "I guess you weren't expecting me. Who used to baby-sit for you?"
"Our nanna/'said Norman. "But she died."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "How long ago?"
Norman wrinkled his brow in thought. "About a month or two. It was really sad. I miss her."
"I'll bet you do," I said. I felt bad about bringing up the subject. But Norman seemed to take it well enough.
"What do you usually do around this time?" I asked. "Do you have homework? Do you want to go outside and play in the snow?"
Again, Norman wrinkled his brow. "I think I'll do homework," he said, heading down the hall to his room. "I don't have a lot to do. I'll be right out."
Norman went to the room at the far end of the hall and shut the door. Just then Sarah's
bedroom door opened. "Would you like to see my room?" she asked, peeking her head out.
"Sure," I said, as I walked toward her. Sarah's room was beautiful. The yellow flowered curtains matched the ruffled bedspread and the cover on her night table. Pictures of kittens decorated the walls. A gorgeous white desk sat in a corner.
But the room was a mess.
It looked like my mother's room might have looked when she was a girl.
Clothes were dumped on the desk chair and the bedposts. Books and Barbie clothes were all over the floor. Scraps of looseleaf paper with drawings scrawled across them were scattered everywhere. I didn't know where to sit.
"I'm getting new curtains and a new bedspread," she informed me. "They're going to be decorated with rainbows. I love rainbows, don't you?"
"Rainbows are pretty," I agreed.
"They're fun to draw. I love to draw. Do you?"
"I like it, but I'm not that great at it," I told her. "Do you have homework?" I asked. "Norman is doing his right now."
Sarah's hands went to her hips. "First of all," she said in her grown-up voice, "I always do my homework as soon as I get home from
school. So does Norman. It's my father's rule. Norman is not doing homework now. Come on, I'll show you."
She walked past me, out the bedroom door and down the hall. "It's okay," I said, stepping into the hall after her. "Maybe he just wants a little time to himself. Why don't we leave him alone."
"Oh, no," Sarah replied firmly. "I know what he's doing. And he's not allowed. My mother told me to make sure he doesn't." Without knocking, Sarah pushed her way into Norman's room.
I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to charge in on Norman. So I stayed in the hall.
"Dawn! Dawn!" Sarah called. "I told you he was doing it."
I figured I'd better see what was happening. Coming to Norman's door, I looked inside. Norman was sitting on the floor, surrounded by opened candy and cake wrappers. There was a smear of white cupcake filling across his cheek.