"Martin, Ann M - BSC029 - Mallory And The Mystery Diary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

time she turned back to the crib, Marnie was smiling. She likes Dawn.
Dawn picked Marnie up, laid her on the changing table, and said in a low voice, "Do you want me to ... tickle, tickle?"
"No! No!" shrieked Marnie, laughing.
Then Dawn played peek-a-boo with Marnie, changed her diaper, took her down to the kitchen, and gave her some milk in her two-handled cup.
"Dawn?" called Buddy from the rec room.
"Yes?" Dawn replied. She was putting the milk carton back in the refrigerator.
"Suzi's bothering me."
"Am not!" cried Suzi indignantly.
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Can it, you guys," Dawn called. "Marnie and I will be there in a minute. Just as soon as she finishes her milk." (We have all learned that it is not a good idea to let Marnie eat or drink anything in a room with a rug on the floor.)
When Mamie's cup was empty, Dawn led her downstairs (a slow process). She was greeted by the sight of Buddy and Suzi sitting scrunched up at opposite ends of the couch,
purposefully ignoring each other. Their heads were turned away from one another and their arms were crossed.
"All right," said Dawn. "I don't know what's going on, but stop it. Suzi, would you like to be my big helper today?"
"Sure!"
"Good. Why don't you and Marnie build something with blocks. I'm going to give Buddy a hand with his reading."
"You are?" said Buddy in astonishment.
"Yup."
"Do you promise Ч no flash cards?"
"Cross my heart," replied Dawn solemnly.
"Well . . . okay."
Suzi and Marnie settled themselves at one end of the rec room. They dumped out a big carton of wooden blocks and turned Sesame Street on low. At the other end of the room, Dawn sat Buddy next to her. She held a copy of Green Eggs and Ham in her lap.
"Here," she said to Buddy. "Try reading this/Buddy made a face but opened the book to the first page. " 1 . . . am . . . same/ " he read slowly.
"No, no," interrupted Dawn. "Not 'same.' It's 'Sam.' See? It's that funny guy's name."
Buddy nodded. He turned the page. The words were repeated. " 'I . . . am . . . Sa Ч Sam/ " he corrected himself.
"Good!" exclaimed Dawn.
Next page. " 'Sam ... I am.' "
"Great!"
Next page. Nothing. Buddy didn't open his mouth.
"Go ahead/' said Dawn.
"No. This is too hard."
"Okay, I'll read a few pages." Dawn read up to page nineteen. Then she gave the book back to Buddy. "Now you try again."
" 'Wuh-wuh Ч ' "
"Would," supplied Dawn.
" 'Would . . . you like . . . them ... in a . . .' "
Buddy paused.
"House!" cried Suzi. She had crept to the couch and was peering over Buddy's shoulder. "I know that word. We learned it in kindergarten. And that word is 'mouse'!"
With that, Buddy slammed the book shut. He stuffed it between the cushions of the couch. "I hate this old book anyway," he announced. "It's for babies and it's boring."
"It is not for babies!" squawked Suzi, insulted.
"Yes, it is."
"Okay, okay," said Dawn. "Enough reading. And enough fighting," she added. "Suzi, you go help Marnie again. Buddy, the rain has stopped. Why don't you take Pow out in the backyard and give him some exercise?"
Dawn knew Buddy needed to escape. She also knew he needed help Ч lots of it Ч with his reading. And by the time Mrs. Barrett came home, she had an idea.
She waited until she was alone at the front door with Buddy's mother. Then she said, "I was reading a little with Buddy today and I think he is having some problems. I was just wondering Ч would you like somebody in the Baby-sitters Club to tutor Buddy? I mean, spend a few hours a week working alone with him? Maybe he just needs some special attention."
'"Oh, Dawn, that would be wonderful. You're a lifesaver. As always," said Mrs. Barrett.
Dawn grinned. "I'll have to wait until our next club meeting so we can see who could fit something like that into her schedule. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay!" Mrs. Barrett looked very relieved, and Dawn felt quite proud of herself.
Chapter 5.
Monday and Tuesday had passed. So had Wednesday and Thursday. Now, on Friday afternoon, we still hadn't opened the trunk. It was another drizzly day. I had nothing to do until our BSC meeting at five-thirty. Va-nessa and I were sitting on my bed, staring at the trunk. We were on my bed because Va-nessa's was littered with half-finished poems and there was no room for her.
Suddenly Vanessa jumped up and cried, "I can't stand it any longer! That trunk is driving me crazy. We've got to open it. Now!"