"Martin, Ann M - Baby-sitters Club - Super Special 01 - Baby-sitters on Board!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

I cleared my throat. "Where are you from?" Maybe he would be from someplace exotic like Tahiti or Los Angeles. At least that would give us something to talk about.
"I'm from Connecticut," he replied. "How about you?"
"Hey, I'm from Connecticut, too! From Stoneybrook."
"No kidding. I'm from Darien. That's not too far from Stoneybrook."
My geography is terrible, so I wasn't sure, but I figured Timothy knew what he was talking about.
"Are you on this trip with your family?" I asked.
"Yup." Timothy nodded.
"Oh. I came with friends." I tried to explain about Kristy and her mom and Watson and the girls in the Baby-sitters Club, but I think I only confused him.
"Hey, I just thought of something," said Timothy. "When we're in high school, our football teams will play against each other. It's like we're destined to meet again."
Destined to meet again, I repeated to myself. What beautiful words. "Are you by any chance
a, urn, I mean, do you write poetry or something?" I had to ask the question, even if it was weird. See, the first guy I ever liked was named Trevor Sandbourne, and he was a poet. It seemed that I was always falling for poets.
"Write poetry?" repeated Timothy.
"Yeah. I was just wondering. Because what you said Ч 'destined to meet again' Ч that was beautiful."
"Oh, thanks! Well, I like to write, but I'm no poet."
I nodded. I found myself studying Timothy's face. It was framed by curly hair. His eyes were dark, wide-set, and fringed with long lashes that I would have given my eye-teeth for. And he was the perfect height for me. . . . Wait a minute! What was I doing? I had a Secret Admirer. I didn't need Timothy, too. On the other hand, the admirer wasn't showing his face. And Timothy was awfully nice. Plus he wasn't in hiding.
"You know," I said, "I'm really glad I ran into you. I was looking for my Secret Admirer, and I found you instead. Maybe this was meant to happen."
"Kismet," agreed Timothy. I must have looked pretty blank because he added, "Fate."
"Destiny?"
"I guess."
I looked out over the ocean again. And this time I saw something I hadn't seen in several days. Land. Not just an island, but actual, honest-to-goodness land. Florida.
"Look!" I cried. "Port Canaveral. I feel like I'm home again, even though I've only been here once before and I'll probably never be back."
"I know what you mean," said Timothy.
'Tomorrow we'll be at Disney World," I went on, growing excited. "The beginning of three whole days of rides and junk food."
"Do you think, um, that maybe we could Ч we could spend some time together there?" asked Timothy, sounding awfully unsure of himself.
"Definitely," I answered. "That would be fun. Hey, listen, I better go. I don't know about you, but I'm not even packed. There's stuff all over our cabin. I've got to get ready to leave."
"I better go, too," said Timothy. He looked as if it were the last thing in the world he wanted to do.
"Walk me to my cabin, okay? Is it on your
way? We're staying on the Dolphin Deck."
"If s not on my way, but I'll walk you anyway," said Timothy.
So he did. He left me at the door to my cabin, and I entered it to find the usual mess, only this time, the mess was all mine. Both Kristy and Dawn were already packed. They were lying on their bunks, each reading a book. The silence in the cabin was stony.
"I have just one thing to say," I said menacingly to my friends.
They looked up in surprise.
"What I have to say is that this is our last hour in this tiny cabin. When we get to our hotel, our room will be much bigger. There will be plenty of space for all of our stuff. So I expect the two of you to quit arguing and get along. Understand?"
The girls nodded, bewildered. I couldn't blame them. I didn't sound like myself at all. But I'd had just about as much of them as I could take.
Kristy.
Well, Claudia was right. Our hotel room sure was bigger than our cabin on the ship. It seemed like a palace in comparison. There were two closets, two giant dressers, and storage space under both sinks.
Both sinks. That was another thing. There were two bathrooms. Sort of. There was an actual bathroom with a shower and a toilet and a sink and everything, and then, just outside of it, there was a dressing room with another sink and a mirror and a cabinet. Very swank.
However, there was one problem Ч three of us, two beds. I took one look and said, "Who gets the bed to herself?" The beds were enormous. King-size, I guess.
At that point, Claudia put her foot down for the second time that day. "We are going
to be here three nights," she said firmly. "So we'll switch off. Each of us will have a bed to herself one night. And I don't want any more contamination wars or clothes battles. There are plenty of drawers and coat hangers. We have enough space to put all of our stuff away, even mine. So let's do it. And then you two," she went on, glaring at Dawn and me, "are going to call a truce."
Dawn and I didn't dare to argue with Clau-dia. We started to unpack our things. Since we weren't talking, I switched on the TV. "Hey!" I said immediately. "We get cable here!"
"Really?" exclaimed Dawn, who doesn't have cable TV at her house in Connecticut. "Hey, maybe we'll get, you know, some movies we're not allowed to watch."
"R-rated?" I suggested, my eyes growing wide. "Yeah! Maybe." (We do have cable at home, but Watson won't let us get any of the movie channels. It's one of the few things he's strict about.) I started flipping channels, while Dawn opened a program guide she found on top of the TV.
"Darn," she said after a minute of flipping through it. "Nothing R-rated. Nothing worse than an old murder mystery. That's on Chan-
nel Eight, if you want to watch it."
I flipped to eight and we went back to our unpacking. When we were finished, we realized that Claudia was right again. There was plenty of room for all our stuff. Of course, Claudia had used up more drawers and hangers than Dawn and I together, but what did we care?
The room was as neat as a pin.
I couldn't resist. I opened a bag of Fritos that was in my knapsack, dumped them out on one of the bedside tables, and dropped the empty package on the floor.
Dawn made a face at me, then snatched up the bag and flung it in a wastebasket.
A hand closed over my Fritos. I looked up. Claudia was now making a face at me. "Kris-tin Amanda," she said. "You are . . . you are ... What's the word? Coating her?"