"Martin, Ann M - BSC023 - Dawn On The Coast" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"Too bad, Dawn," Jeff teased as we waited inline. " 'Children under three not allowed.' "
Believe it or not, that's exactly the kind of talk you miss when you don't have a brother around.
After Star Tours, we headed to Captain Eo, which is a 3-D Michael Jackson video. When we came out, Jeff started moonwalking. Brothers! They drive you crazy, but I have to admit, they can be pretty funny.
"Onward!" said Dad.
We caught the train that circles the park and rode it all the way to Frontierland. That's where Jeff wanted to go on the Mark Twain Steamboat. "Ah, here we go," said Dad. "A ride for old fogies like me."
The steamboat circles an island and I like to pretend that I'm Mark Twain, navigating the Mississippi, thinking up the stories I'm going to write.
"So. We're finished," Dad said as we got off the boat. "We've done everything on our list."
There was a teasing twinkle in his eye.
"No way!" cried Jeff. "You forgot New Orleans Square!"
Jeff was still more than a little "Disneyland Wild."
Everybody was getting hungry, so we decided to stop in one of the New Orleans "buffeterias" . . . after one more ride.
"Pirates of the Caribbean!" shouted Jeff.
"No," I said. "Haunted Mansion. That was my whole reason for picking New Orleans Square."
"You could split up," Dad suggested.
That's exactly what we did.
Haunted Mansion is right up my (spooky, ghost-ridden) alley. On the outside it's an old New Orleans house. You know the kind. It has those wrought-iron, curlicue trellises bordering all the porches. Inside, though, it's a real spook house. To go through, you get in a Doom Buggy. Sound creepy? That's the least of it. Ghost Shadows are cast on all the walls, and eerie music plays in the background. Upstairs, in the attic, there's about an inch of dust on everything. I'm telling you, one trip through Haunted Mansion equals about ten good ghost stories. And I ought to know.
Jeff and I met Dad at the French Market restaurant, where he had already snared a table for us.
"Yum!" I said, as I looked at the menu. It
was hard to decide between Cajun-seasoned trout or spinach quiche.
"Want to split them?" Dad asked. It was the perfect solution.
Now that we were sitting down and eating, Jeff began to wind down. Well, a little bit. We finished our meals and watched the Mark Twain steamboat glide by beyond the restaurant porch.
"Hey, Dawn," Jeff said. "Watch this."
Jeff made one of his silly monkey faces.
"Glad to see your sister, huh?" Dad laughed.
"Yeah," Jeff said sheepishly. He smiled at me, an awkward, self-conscious smile. "Sometimes I miss you, Dawn," he said.
Dad ruffled my hair, as if I were a puppy or something.
"We both miss you," he said. "That much is for sure."
There I was, back in Disneyland, sitting with my dad and my brother, and both of them being gushy. It sure felt good.
Dad looked at his watch.
"What time do you have to be at Sunny's, Dawn?" he asked.
"Five o'clock," I said. Whatever her surprise was, I'd better be on time.
"I think we have time to do one last thing," said Dad.
"Jungle Cruise!" shouted Jeff. He was never at a loss for ideas.
"No, this one's for your old man," said Dad. "I spotted it right as we came in the park. Back to Main Street, guys. Let's go."
"Where are we going?" asked Jeff.
"You'll see," said Dad.
He had that glint in his eye.
When we got back to Main Street, Dad led us straight to the Main Street Cinema, an old movie house that plays silent cartoon classics, ones like Steamboat Willie and Mickey's Polo Team. It was really fun to see them.
"They sure don't look much like the cartoons we have today," I said.
"They're better," said Dad.
"No way!" said Jeff.
All in all, it had been a perfect day in Disney land. And the day wasn't over yet, either. I couldn't wait to get home to see Sunny. I couldn't imagine what she might have for a surprise.
Chapter 5.
No wonder Sunny wanted to surprise me. When I got back from Disneyland, I ran over to her house. (She lives only a few houses down the block. I used to be there so often I could find it in my sleep.) I got there at five o'clock on the dot. Sunny's mom opened the door.
"Dawn," she smiled. "Look at you! Look how you've grown! Oh, I know I'm not supposed to say that. Come in. Come in."
Sunny clambered down the stairs. She was grinning from ear to ear. She had a bandana in her hands. Sunny and her surprises . . .
"Hold still," she said to me, "and close your eyes."
She tied the bandana on me like a blindfold.
"What . . .?" I said.
"I told you," she insisted. "It's a surprise!"