"Babysitters Club 122 Kristy In Charge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

"Thank you, Mrs. Simon," Mallory said as she moved to the middle of the room. I was pleased to hear her voice come out more forcefully than it had in the hall.
"I'm going to pass out copies of the poem for each of you," she told the class. "Please take one and pass the rest to the person behind you." She stepped up to Lily Karp, who sits in the first seat of the first row by the door. As she reached out to hand the stack to Lily, the papers tumbled from her hands and fell to the floor. This brought on a few giggles from the
class. When Mallory bent to pick up the papers, another stack slid from her other hand.
That - combined with Mallory's horrified expression - caused a lot of laughter.
Mallory grabbed up the papers, but now they were a mess. "Those papers have got a bad case of 'The Jumblies'!" Pete Black called out. He's a pretty good guy and didn't mean any harm by it, but Mallory blushed a deep red.
I jumped up, took the papers from her, and began handing them out. "How cute," Cokie whispered as she took her sheet. "Helping your little buddy." I ignored her.
"As you can see," Mallory began once I sat down again, " 'The Jumblies' is a long poem. But Edward Lear is really most famous for - "
"For inventing the Lear jet!" a boy named Lane Reynolds shouted out.
At first Mallory looked surprised. Then she smiled. "No. That would have been impossible because Edward Lear was born in eighteen-twelve." She turned toward the board to write this down. I could see her hand shaking. I suppose the whole class could see it.
She turned back toward us. "He was best known for the limerick, which is a short, humorous verse form consisting of five lines. The first, second, and fifth lines rhyme, as do the third and fourth." She'd obviously memorized
this and her voice had a stiff, robotic rhythm to it.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Alan Gray wadding up a spitball. An unwrapped straw lay on his desk. I cleared my throat loudly in his direction. He glanced at me and I gave him a Look - my most deadly glare, which I reserve for times when I really want to get a point across. He got my message and held up his hand in a silent surrender sign.
I turned my attention back to Mallory and saw she was once again writing on the board. Her hands still trembled terribly as she wrote down an example of a limerick.
There was an old man who supposed That the street door was partially closed; But some very large rats Ate his coats and his hats
She didn't finish the limerick because the chalk cracked with a loud snap and went flying across the classroom. "Duck!" Alan shouted, which everyone did.
"Sorry about that," Mallory said.
"What a spaz!" Cokie whispered loudly to Grace Blume.
"Spaz Girl, Spaz Girl," Grace chanted softly, giggling. Several kids looked at Mallory and laughed.
Mallory was well aware of them. She was mortified.
Mrs. Simon stood and clapped her hands sharply for silence. "There's more chalk on the right-hand side," she told Mallory.
"Don't give her another missile to attack us with!" cried Shane Miller. "We're too young to die!"
"She's armed! Look out!" Parker Harris added.
"Class!" Mrs. Simon snapped. "Be quiet and listen. I'm going to give you a quiz on this and I'll expect you to know this information."
I realized Mallory was staring hard at Mary Anne and me. She was trying to pretend we were the only two students in the room. I shot her a smile and a thumbs-up, but she didn't smile back.
"The Jumblies" is a fun poem about this group of nutty people who set out to sea in a sieve. But despite the poem, Mallory looked and sounded as if she were about to burst into tears.
Her obvious misery inspired some kids to take pity on her and ask thoughtful questions. It brought out the worst in other kids, though. They asked dumb questions and Mal knew they were goofing on her.
While she was trying to finish up the poem, I noticed a paper being passed around. It was
causing a lot of laughter and I didn't want to think about what was on it. Before too long it was passed to me. Unfortunately, this is what it said:
A Limerick
There was a Spaz Girl named Mallory She taught, but not for salary
Her joy was to aim
Deadly chalk and maim
Her students, like ducks in a shooting gallery
Each line was written in a different handwriting. It had been a joint effort among five people - five morons. I crumpled the note and crammed it into my jeans pocket.
After what seemed like the longest forty-five minutes of my life (and of Mallory's life too, I'm sure) class finally ended.
"Thank you, Mallory," Mrs. Simon said. "That was very interesting."
Mallory nodded but couldn't even manage a smile. She just walked out of the classroom.
Mary Anne and I hurried after her. When we caught up with her, tears were pooled in her eyes, ready to splash over. "It wasn't that bad," Mary Anne said, which was a fib, of course, but for a good cause.
"It was," Mallory insisted in a choked voice.
"Hey, my class was a disaster too," I told her. "Maybe all first classes bomb."
Mallory took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. "Do you think so?"
"Sure," I said. At least, I hoped so. Even though my class had been bad, hers had been much worse. Anger welled up inside me. You'd think a bunch of eighth-graders would give a break to a poor kid who was two years younger than they were.
About six or seven kids from Mrs. Simon's class came down the hall. Cokie and Grace were among them. A boy's voice loudly whispered "Spaz Girl!" as they passed.
Mal turned an even deeper red than she had in the classroom.
I wanted to murder whoever had said it, but I had no idea who it was.
Chapter 9.
After school that day, Mallory was supposed to baby-sit at her house along with Stacey. But since Mal was desperate to speak to Mrs. Simon about the class she'd taught, Jessi agreed to replace her. (Jordan was sick in bed, so an extra sitter was needed.)
Jessi and Stacey arrived at the Pikes' and found Vanessa assembling her students. "Everyone on the couch," she commanded.
Margo ran behind Stacey. "Save me from her," she pleaded in an urgent whisper. "She hasn't stopped since last Thursday when Claudia was here. She really thinks she's a teacher."
Mrs. Pike entered the room and sized up the situation. "Margo, you don't have to play school with Vanessa if you don't want to," she said as she took her jacket from the front hall.