"Martin, Ann M - BSC070 - Stacey And The Cheerleaders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"Good. We can see it Friday night. It's playing in town. Okay?"
"Okay, sure."
Rrrriinnngg! The homeroom bell echoed through the school.
RJ began trotting down the front hall as if it were a basketball court. "My dad can drive us," he called over his shoulder. "I'll get your address later. See you."
" 'Bye!" I called.
Kids were scurrying to their classrooms. I stood rooted to the spot until no one else was
in the hall. It took me a moment to realize I hadn't picked up my books from the snowy sidewalk. I'd have to run out and get them, and I'd be late for homeroom.
But you know what? I didn't care.
I was going to go out with RJ Blaser.
Okay, time out. Do I sound hopelessly boy-crazy? I'm not. I mean, I do like boys, but they're not the only things in my life.
I guess I should tell you about myself. My full name is Anastasia Elizabeth McGill, but please don't ever call me that. (My parents are the only ones who do, and just when they're angry.) I'm an only child. I'm thirteen years old and in eighth grade. My family moved to Stoneybrook when I was twelve. Before that we lived in New York City.
Yes, kids do grow up in the Big Apple Ч and like it. Does that surprise you? It surprised some kids in Stoneybrook when I first moved here. They believed New York had only office buildings and theaters. And some of them had these weird expectations that all New Yorkers should be warped, nasty, or snobby.
No way. New York does have its problems, but I love the city. Plenty of kids live there, and there's so much to see and do it's impossible to be bored.
We first moved to Stoneybrook when my dad's company transferred him here. It's a suburb, but to us it felt like the country. I met some really great friends, including Claudia, and I joined the Baby-sitters Club (more about that later). Then came the McGill Family Drama. We moved back to New York when Dad was relocated again, and he and Mom started fighting all the time. Soon they were asking me the Big Question: whom did I want to live with after the divorce?
Well, it wasn't as sudden as it sounds. The problems had been growing for awhile. But nothing had prepared me for how much the divorce would hurt. After lots of crying and arguing and talking, I decided to stay with Mom. Even though I'm such a New Yorker, I had grown to love Stoneybrook, too. And I missed my new friends terribly.
So we were off to Connecticut again, but this time there were only two of us. We've been here ever since. Stoneybrook is just a train ride away from Manhattan. I visit Dad pretty often, so I have the best of both worlds.
What else can I tell you about me? Here are some things I like: clothes, movies, kids, and math. (Yes, math. I can't help it. I'm good at it, and I think numbers are fascinating.)
Here are some things I don't like: snobbi-
ness, seeing people barf, and doctors. Not necessarily in that order. I have to see doctors a lot, and I probably will for the rest of my life. You see, I have diabetes. That means my body can't regulate the amount of sugar in my blood. Have you heard of people who get a "sugar rush" if they eat too much candy? Well, multiply that by a hundred, and that's what I could get if I eat even a small amount of sugar. It's not just a rush, either. I could end up in the hospital. To keep my body running normally I have to give myself daily injections of a drug called insulin. It sounds gross, I know, but you get used to it if you have diabetes.
Now that you know I have a life outside of boys, let's move on to the next subject, which is ... well, boys. Or, the lack of them in my life.
Have you ever heard the song "Lucky in Love"? It was not written about me. If my love life were a bottle, it would be empty. If it were a place, it would be the Sahara Desert. Or Death Valley.
Okay, I'm exaggerating. But not by much. Let's face it, I may not be boy-crazy, but I'm boy-interested. I mean, it wouldn't take a lot to make me happy. Just a gorgeous, smart, considerate guy who takes my breath away and happens to love me even more than I love him.
Is that asking too much?
One time I did fall in LUV. Head over heels. He was gorgeous, smart, and considerate. One catch: he was also twenty-two and my substitute math teacher. I thought he was in love with me, but he told me (politely) that I was wrong. It was beyond humiliating. I felt about two inches tall.
Yes, I am interested in boys my own age. I've dated a few SMS guys, but nothing has ever clicked. Sometimes I go out with Pete Black or Austin Bentley, but they're just friends. In other words, plenty of LIKE but no LUV.
My one steady boyfriend was Sam Thomas. We lasted a long time, but we kind of drifted apart and agreed to see other people.
As of that snowy Wednesday morning in December, I was still waiting for the other people.
That snowball may have changed everything. At least I hoped so. RJ was cute. Not gorgeous, but nice to look at. He had curly red hair and hazel eyes and broad shoulders.
Through him, I hoped I'd have a chance to meet some of his teammates and cheerleader friends. I didn't know any of them, but I wanted to. They were definitely the coolest and most popular kids at SMS. The guys were
Major Hunks and incredible athletes (not to mention tall, which I find very cool). Every single one of the girls was stunning and talented. Plus you would not believe the amazing clothes they wore. I'd been dying to ask some of them where they bought their outfits. Not anyplace I'd ever been (including all the boutiques I'd been to in New York).
So I was in a pretty good mood that day, even though I was late for homeroom. I tried to sneak in quietly, but it didn't work. Sheila McGregor, one of the cheerleaders I'd seen outside, began giggling when she saw my books. I looked down to see they were dripping with melted snow.
Our teacher, Ms. Levine, raised her eyebrows. "Stacey McGill? Late? What a novel concept." (She talks like that.)
I slunk into my seat. "Sorry."
Ms. Levine harrumphed, then continued making her morning announcements. A minute or two later I felt something poke me on the right side of my back. I moved over a little. Sheila sits behind me, and I figured something on her desk had slipped.
Another poke. I began to turn around. I saw Sheila's hand by my elbow, with a note in it. The note was folded neatly into a triangle. I took it, opened it, and read it:
PS
It wasn't an accident He, never misses.'
I couldn't help blushing. Quickly I turned and smiled at Sheila, who smiled back.
Ms. Levine didn't notice. Thank goodness.
After homeroom, Sheila and I walked down the hall together. She gave me this huge grin. "So ... did he ask you out?"
"Yeah," I replied.
"Lucky," she said. "Maybe you guys and Marty and I can go out together sometime."
"You and Marty?"
She showed me a ring with a jewel in it. "We go steady. Isn't this beautiful?"
It was. I had never, ever seen a ring like that on an eighth-grade girl. "Wow."
We said good-bye at the next corner. Sheila's class was in the opposite direction from mine. I watched her for a moment as she walked away. Her hair was so silky and thick, and her clothes showed off her perfect figure. I
could see guys staring as she passed them, as if she were a movie star.
Of course she had no trouble finding a boyfriend. If she broke up with Marty, she could probably pick from a waiting list.
Must be nice, I thought.
At lunchtime, I sat with my BSC friends. (BSC, by the way, stands for Baby-sitters Club.) We were just yacking away, until I told them about RJ.