"Betty Miles - The Trouble With Thirteen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miles Betty)

Mom and Dad came in. "Oh, kids," said Mom, "cut it out, will you? Let's have a pleasant meal."
But we didn't. Why is it that when you already feel bad, everything seems to go wrong? That night Dad was upset because Kenny and I hadn't weeded the garden, and Kenny was mad because I'd used up his tape and he needed some for his history notebook. And then Mom started in on me. She got that look that means she's going to complain about something.
"I was thinking," she said, "that you and I should go shopping, Annie."
"What for?"
"Well-maybe a new skirt for spring? And that jacket of yours is pretty disreputable. What about a nice lightweight blazer instead?"
"Mom! Nobody wears those! Everybody has a jacket like mine."
"Does everybody's smell like yours?" Kenny asked, buttering a piece of bread.
I shot him my meanest look.
Mom said, "I just wish you had one that fit you better, that's all."
"I hate new jackets!" I said. "They're so stiff. This one's broken in the way I like it. Besides, it has my rainbow on it."
I spent about a week last month embroidering a rainbow onto my jacket from directions in a library book called Embroidery Made Simple. They should have called it Embroidery Made Complicated. I had to rip the whole thing out and start over about ten times. In the end, it came out terrific. Even Iris said it was neat.
"You could cut the rainbow off and sew it onto another jacket," Mom said. She sighed. "I just wish you'd consider something besides denim."
Then Dad started in. "I've seen lots of young women in the city wearing blazers. They look very smart." He smiled at me in that doting way he has. He doesn't know anything about how kids want to look.
"It would be nice if you had something new before Kate's party," Mom said, giving herself away. That was it-she was afraid I'd embarrass her in front of Kate's mother.
"Mom! It's a sleep-over party. We'll wear pajamas the whole time!"
"You should have some new pajamas, too," Mom
said right away. "You're bursting out of your old ones." I hate for her to talk like that in front of Dad and Kenny.
"She's growing faster every day," Dad said fondly, making it worse. "We'll have two teen-agers in this house before we know it."
I threw down my fork. "Why does everyone keep picking on me?" I drank some milk and choked on it. Kenny thumped me too hard on the back. I wiped my eyes on my napkin. My parents were looking at me as though I'd hurt their feelings.
The phone rang. I jumped up and ran to answer it.
"Annie!" Rachel said in a strained voice. "Are you alone?"
"No, I'm downstairs. We're eating."
"Could you go to the other phone?"
"Sure." I put the phone down. "Hang up for me, Kenny-it's Rachel."
"Can't you ask her to call back after dinner?" Dad asked.
"No I can't!" I yelled. "Some things are more important than food!"
I ran upstairs, slammed the door of my parents' room, and picked up their extension. "Hang up, Kenny!" I yelled into it. There was a click. Then a pause.
"Annie." Rachel's voice was so solemn I froze.
"What is it, Rach?"
"I was right. Mom just told me. They're going to."
She waited a second, then went on. "Get a divorce." Her voice was flat. "Everything," she said, announcing it like a weather forecast, "is going to change. We're moving to the city."
"You can't move!" I told her the next day. We were sitting by ourselves in the cafeteria, with kids shouting at tables around us. A steamy hot-dog smell hung in the air. "It's exactly the wrong time," I explained carefully. "Kids need security when their parents break up. It's a psychological fact. They need their regular routine. They need their friends!"
Rachel nodded stiffly. "My parents know all that." She pulled at her hot-dog roll. "They're not stupid. They're not cruel, either. They're trying to work out the best thing for me. Don't go making things worse by blaming them. You ought to feel sorry for them."
"I feel sorry for you," I said. I was too ashamed to add, "and for me."
"Yeah," Rachel said. She started to bite into her hot dog and then she put it down. "Yeah," she said again.
"How can you move?" I pressed on. "This is your home. You'd hate it in the city. In some dark little apartment with no yard or anything. You'd have to go to a new school. Kids would ignore you, or else beat you up. You could get mugged on the street-"
"Stop it, Annie!" Rachel interrupted. "Cut it out, will you? Are you trying to make me cry in front of the whole cafeteria? I thought you'd at least be sympathetic."
"I am sympathetic, that's the whole point! I can't see why they should make you move."
"Because." Rachel's voice was strained. "Because, for one thing, it's better for Dad to have an apartment near his studio, instead of commuting. And he wants me to live near him. And for another thing, so Mom can get modeling work."
"I thought she hated it!"
"It pays a lot. She doesn't want to take alimony from Dad and she can't live on part-time teaching. She wants to get a day-care job and model on the side." Rachel looked at me as though she was begging me not to argue. "She wants us to be near Aunt Sylvia. And she wants me to go to private school."
"Private school! You're kidding! What's wrong with Schuyler School? People move to Madison, New York, just so their kids can go to it."
"Nothing's wrong with it; it's just that Mom thinks I should have small classes and good counseling next
year. Aunt Sylvia has a friend whose kids go to Barclay. She says they love it. I'm going to the city this weekend with Mom, to meet them."
She sounded almost interested. I couldn't believe it. How could a person like Rachel even consider going to Barclay School? It's supposed to be so exclusive. I wondered if Rachel would start acting snotty if she went there. Maybe she wouldn't want me to meet her new friends. Probably she'd start wearing sappy clothes-boots with three-inch heels and quilted vests and droopy blouses like models in Bloomingdale's ads. She'd turn into a New York City teen-ager.
"So I can't come to Kate's party after all," Rachel said.
I was furious. How could she not come? I'd been looking forward to it so much. It wouldn't be half as much fun without Rachel. Nothing would be any fun without her. I began to really understand what her moving away would be like.
"What's the big rush?" I asked. "Can't you even wait one week to meet those stupid kids? Don't you want to go to Kate's?"
"Of course, what do you think?" Rachel shot back. She began to explain as though she was trying to convince herself. "Mom wants us to settle on a school fast, so we know what part of the city to move to. Sylvia says I have to apply practically this minute if I want to get into Barclay next fall. See, they don't accept that many kids for eighth grade. Most kids just
start there in kindergarten and go right through." Her face crumpled. "They'll know each other already. They'll have their own cliques."