"Martin, Ann M - Baby-sitters Club 009 - The Ghost at Dawn's House" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"Mostly this little kid named Skip," replied Claudia. "He and his parents were at the resort the whole time we were. It was no big deal. I
just took him wading and stuff. A couple of other kids, too."
"Well," said Kristy, "I had some interesting jobs while you guys were away."
"Oh, that's right!" I exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "You baby-sat for the Perkinses, didn't you?"
The Perkinses were special for two reasons. Not only were they new clients, but they had moved into Kristy's old house. Kristy lives across town now, which was part of the reason she'd stayed home the past two weeks while the rest of us were away.
You see, I'm not the only one with divorced parents. Kristy's parents are divorced, too, only they've been divorced a lot longer than mine have. Long enough for Kristy's mom to meet a new husband. And to get married again over the summer. Kristy was even in the wedding! And all the members of the Babysitters Club were guests. It was great.
But then Watson Brewer (that's Kristy's stepfather Ч he just happens to be a millionaire) moved Kristy, her mom, her big brothers Sam and Charlie, and her little brother David Michael, across town to live in his mansion with him. It seemed like a fairy tale to me, but it has caused some problems. For one thing, we
miss having Kristy nearby. For another, we have to pay Charlie to drive Kristy to and from our dub meetings. Plus, Kristy's mom wants Watson and his two kids and Kristy and her brothers to become a real family. So ... no vacation for any of them. Just plenty of togetherness at the mansion.
However, it was fun to have a new family in the neighborhood. And the Perkinses have little kids, which is even better. Kristy had been the first to baby-sit for them. A sitting job right in her old house!
"It was weird," Kristy said. "There was my bedroom and my living room Ч with this strange furniture. I mean, you know, different furniture. But the girls are great. And Mrs, Perkins is nice, too. I didn't meet Mr. Perkins. The older girl, Myriah, is really smart. And she takes all kinds of lessons Ч ballet, tap dancing, swimming. And she's only five and a half. Gabbie is the little one. She's two and a half. She says cute things like 'Toshe me up.' Thaf s something she invented. It means, 'Pick me up and give me a hug.' And she kept calling me by my whole name Ч Toshe me up, Kristy Thomas. . . . Want to see my room, Kristy Thomas?' I think you guys will like the Perkinses."
The phone rang then, and once it started, it kept on ringing. Everyone knew we were home from our vacations and back in business. Even Mrs. Perkins called. By the time our meeting was over, we all had jobs lined up.
I rode my bike back to my neighborhood, feeling great. There were new clients to meet, baby-sitting to do, and two weeks of summer left!
Chapter 2.
It's amazing how different two people in the very same family can be. Take Jeff and me. We're pretty much alike, except for the obvious differences, such as that I'm a girl and he's a boy, and I'm thirteen and he's only going on ten. But then take Mom and me. (Or Mom and Jeff, for that matter.) I love my mother and we get along great, but she's kind of like Oscar Madison in The Odd Couple and I'm like Felix Unger. Mom's not a personal slob like Oscar is, but she's forgetful and absentminded, and our house is usually a mess Ч except for my room. My room is the calm eye in the center of a hurricane.
This is why I was not surprised to walk into my house after the Baby-sitters Club meeting and find a pair of hedgeclippers in the living room, a trail of popcorn from the front hall to
the kitchen (that was Jeff's Ч he's not a slob, but he is a nine-year-old boy), and a lot of other things that were in places where they didn't belong.
The mess has only grown worse since my mom got a job. Believe me, Jeff and I are happy that Mom is working Ч because she's happy she's working, and when she's happy, we're happy. But it does have its disadvantages. For instance, Jeff and I are now in charge of making dinner on weeknights. At first we tried taking turns, but that didn't work out, since Jeff's idea of making dinner is getting a loaf of pumpernickel out of the bread drawer.
Plus, Mom is so busy with her job that she doesn't have time for anything else. And I don't mean housecleaning. I mean dating. In particular, dating Mary Anne's father. See, Mary Anne's mom died a long time ago, and after we moved here, my mother starred seeing Mr. Spier. Mary Anne and I were so excited! We thought we were going to get to be stepsisters. But I don't think that will happen now.
"Hey, Jeff!" I yelled. "Help me with dinner! Mom'11 be home soon."
No answer.
"Jeff!" I yelled upstairs.
Still no answer.
Maybe he was in the barn.
I went out the back door, ran across the yard, and shouted into the barn. "JEFF!"
Thunk. What was that?
I stood still and listened. I could hear little rustlings. Far away, thunder rumbled.
I shivered. I love our old house and the barn, but sometimes they give me the creeps. They were built in 1795, and there's just something spooky about a place that's been around that long. So many people have lived here. . . . Some of them have probably died here, too. Right in the house or the barn.
"Jeff?" I said again, but this time almost in a whisper.
"BOO!" A figure leaped into view in the haymow.
"Aughhhh!" I shrieked. "Jeff, you scared me to death!"
He climbed down the ladder to the ground. "Well, you scared me. You come screaming in here like some kind of I don't know what. You made me fall off the rope in the haymow."
"Oh, was that thud you?"
"Yeah. What'd you think it was Ч a ghost?"
"Course not," I replied, sorry he'd put the idea in my head. "Come on. We have to make dinner."
Jeff and I fixed a salad with cottage cheese, pineapple, peaches, and coconut topping, and heated up a vegetable casserole Mom had made over the weekend. Then we brewed some herbal tea. Kristy kids us, but Mom and Jeff and I really like health food. We ate health food in California, and I think that's something about us that won't change, no matter how long we live on the East Coast.
"Boy, it's hot," I said, pulling my long hair away from my sweaty neck.
"I know," replied Jeff. "Sticky. Let's eat outside, okay? I could set the picnic table."
"Good idea," I said. I handed him plates, napkins, forks, and glasses, and he went outside.
I stood in our old-fashioned kitchen and stirred the tea. Then I poured it into a pitcher and added ice.
Suddenly the house seemed awfully. . . big. I heard a creak and looked over my shoulder. Nothing.
Describing the house as "big" was kind of funny, since it isn't. Big, I mean. Oh, it has plenty of rooms, but they're all kind of small. Mom explained to me that over the years, people have gotten taller. Back in 1795,1 guess we were still on the short side. At any rate,
not only are the rooms in our house little and dark, but the doorways are low, and the steps in the staircase are low (and uneven). It's like a large, creepy dollhouse.
Since the house is so old, I have this theory that somewhere in it is a hidden passage. All old houses have them, don't they? Claudia, who loves mysteries, lent me a Nancy Drew book called The Hidden Staircase. On the cover, Nancy is pushing open a section of wall at the back of a closet and discovering a hidden staircase. I know there's a secret something somewhere in our house, too. I just know it.
"Dawn?"
I jumped a mile.
"Oh, Mom!" I said with a gasp. "You scared me."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to." She kissed my forehead.
"How was work?" I asked.
"Fine. Busy, though. I'm pooped."
"I hope you're hungry. Jeff and I have supper all ready. Jeff's setting the picnic table. It's so hot we thought we'd eat outdoors."