"Martin, Ann M - Baby-sitters Club 043 - Stacey's Emergency" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"Where is she?" asked Dad suspiciously.
Uh-oh. He was going to do it again.
"She's at the Pikes'."
"At this hour?"
"Dad, it's eight-thirty."
"Well, what's she doing over there? And why are you at home alone?"
Oh, brother. I tried to sidestep what was coming by saying, "I've been able to stay at home alone for several years now. Sometimes I even baby-sit."
"Anastasia," said Dad. (Yikes, my full name.) "You know what I mean. Why is your mother at the Pikes' on a weeknight without you?"
"Because she and Mrs. Pike are friends."
Why did I always end up defending my parents to each other? And what if Mom were out on a date? She's allowed to date. She and my father are divorced, for heaven's sake.
"What does that mean?" asked Dad.
"It means that Mrs. Pike got a new dress and she wants Mom's opinion."
"Why?"
"Because she wants to get a hat to go with it or something. 7 don't know." I felt extremely exasperated.
"You're sure she's at the Pikes'?"
"Da-ad."
"Okay. Just wondering."
And I was wondering what would happen if one day I said to my father, "Mom's out with someone. A man. He's taking her to dinner. He's really handsome, he has a very important job, and he's never been married. He's saving himself for the perfect woman, and that perfect woman is Mom." Or what would happen if I said to my mother some Sunday night when she was grilling me about my weekend in New York with Dad, "Mom, you should see who Dad's dating. She's this sophisticated, beautiful, younger woman. She's terribly wealthy, she has a penthouse apartment in the city and a horse farm in the country. And she can cook and handle a jigsaw."
If I ever said anything like that, would my
parents be mad at me? I didn't want to find out.
"Stacey?" Dad was saying.
"Yeah?"
"You didn't answer me. I asked how school was going."
"Oh, it's fine."
"And the Baby-sitters Club?"
"Fine." I heard a door downstairs open and close. "Hey, Mom's home!" I exclaimed. Now I could show Dad that I'd been telling the truth.
"Can you put her on for a minute?" he asked.
"Sure. Oh, and I'll see you on Friday. 'Bye, Dad. Hold on for Mom." I went to the head of the staircase and yelled, "Hey, Mom! Dad's on the phone. He wants to talk to you!" Then I dashed back to her bedroom. I didn't give my mother a chance to whisper frantically to me that she didn't want to talk to my father. If I had to get back on the phone and make an excuse for her, Dad would be sure something was going on.
In Mom's bedroom, I did the first of two things that I really should not have done that night. I listened to my parents' conversation.
When Mom picked up the phone in the kitchen, Dad greeted her with, "Did you decide on a hat?" He thought he was being
cagey. If Mom didn't know what he was talking about, then Dad could assukne she'd been out somewhere with Wonder Date.
"A hat?" Mom repeated. "For Mrs. Pike? Yes. Why?"
"Oh, never mind." Dad didn't really have anything to say after that, so'he and Mom just went over the plans for my weekend in the city. I waited until they'd said good-bye. After each of them had hung up the phone, I hung up the extension I'd been listening in on. Then I crept back to my room.
I lay down on my bed. My stomach was growling, and I desperately wanted, something to drink Ч even though Mom anq I had finished our dinner not too much earlier. I didn't want to go to the kitchen, though. I had a feeling Mom would be mad at me for having called her to the phone. Plus, did she know, somehow, that I'd eavesdropped?
I had to give her time to cool off.
I also had to eat something . . . anything. So I tiptoed across the room, gently closed the door, and then tiptoed to my desk. Feeling like Claudia, I pulled out a drawer, lifted up a pile of papers, opened an old pencil box, and removed Ч a large chocolate bar.
Ah, sugar, I thought.
I peeled back the top of the paper and, for
a second, just breathed in the incredible smell of chocolate.
I was tired. Sick and tired, I reminded myself. And I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Nobody else I knew had to stick to a diet like mine. Dawn didn't touch junk food, but that was her decision. My diet was not my decision.
Oh, I had longed for the taste of chocolate again. I had not had any since the doctors first discovered that I was diabetic. Claudia's Ring-Dings had tasted out of this world. When I'd eaten them, I'd felt as if I were tasting chocolate for the first time.
So I ate the entire candy bar.
Then I felt guilty.
I just couldn't win.
Chapter 5.
The next day, after school, I sat for Charlotte again. Charlotte wasn't her usual quiet self. She wanted to do something, to create something.
"Like what?" I asked, thinking of arts and crafts and wishing I'd brought along my Kid-Kit that afternoon. "A painting?"
"No. Something more complicated."
Char and I were sitting opposite each other at the Johanssens' kitchen table. Charlotte grew thoughtful.
"More complicated? How about a paper sculpture?" I suggested.