"Haddix, Margaret Peterson - Dont You Dare Read This Mrs Dunphrey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haddix Margaret Peterson)

Can't you give it a rest? When you asked me to stay after class today, I was sure I was in trouble. But no, you just wanted to talk about The Lodestar again. And how I should be on the honor roll, not barely passing. Right.
The funniest thing was when you asked if it'd help to talk to my parents. How'd you put it-"I know most teenagers are hesitant to acknowledge their parents, but sometimes parental involvement is necessary. Sometimes parents and teachers need to work as a team..." Sometimes, Mrs. Dunphrey, you talk like a book. I can just see you and my mom getting together. It makes me crack up. Let's see, here's Mrs. Dunphrey with her silky blouses and classy skirts and big words. And here's my mom in her ragged jeans and her "ain'ts" and "she don'ts." You'd say "academic potential" and my mom's eyes would just go blank. She'd say, "Huh?" about fifty times.
Or let's say you got real ambitious and hunted down my dad. Supposing you found him, you'd be real impressed with his beer company cap and his old ripped flannel shirts and long Johns. (That's about the fanciest clothes I ever remember seeing him wear.) He'd say, "Tish who?"
Come on, Mrs. Dunphrey. Give up.
Today is Matt's birthday. I picked him up after school and then we took the bus to McDonald's. (He likes that better than Burger Boy, even though I can't get an employee discount at McDonald's-I guess Matt gets sick of Burger Boy burgers because I bring them home all the time.) I told him he could get whatever he wanted, so he ordered a Big Mac and a large fries and a big strawberry milkshake. He didn't finish any of it. But, hey, it's his birthday. I told him nothing mattered today. I wouldn't yell at him over anything.
"You don't yell at me, Tish," he said.
"Yes, I do," I said. "You don't have to be nice. I know I yell at you a lot more than I should."
"But only because you want me to be good," he said. And he smiled in this way he has, where he shows his side teeth, and he looked so little and cute and innocent. I think he got that idea about being yelled at for his own good at school. Anyway, it made me feel like I'm not SO bad to him after all.
I couldn't get him the Nintendo, because I couldn't save enough money in time. (Maybe I would have been able to, if Mom would give Matt and me lunch money, instead of me always paying
for everything.) Instead, I got him a baseball mitt. I thought it was kind of a stupid present-I just couldn't think of anything else. But Matt got all excited. He said all the other boys at school have mitts, but he didn't think he'd ever get one. He fell asleep hugging it.
Maybe I'll be able to afford a Nintendo for Matt for Christmas.
Don't you dare read this, Mrs. Dunphrey.
Well, Mom's gone and done it. While I had Matt at McDonald's last night, she started driving around town looking for Dad. She found him down at the Alibi Inn on Sidell Street-it's a horrid bar, all smoky and gross. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it, Mrs. Dunphrey. I don't know what Mom told Dad-I don't want to know-but this morning when I got up and walked into the kitchen, he was sitting at the kitchen table eating eggs and toast, sort of normal, like he'd never been away at all.
I just stopped and stared at him.
"Is that how you greet your dad, when you haven't seen him in two years?" Dad asked, all sweet and nice.
Hey, it's not my fault I hadn't seen him in two years. "Hi, Dad," I said. Cautious.
I didn't know it, but Matt was right behind me. And as soon as I said that, Matt came out in front of me, "Dad? Daddy?"
Then he ran over to Dad and gave him one of those big hugs only a kid can give. Totally trusting. Dad swung him up on his lap and said, "Now, that's more like it."
"It's really you?" Matt said. Dad nodded and let Matt hug him again. I could have cried right then and there, the way Matt was acting. He looked happier than I'd seen him in years. I guess I'd stopped noticing how sad his eyes looked all the time. Matt grinned and grinned and grinned. I wanted to grab him away and scream, "No- don't. You can't trust him." Then Mom came in from taking the trash out, and she was grinning too, like a big fool. Am I the only one in the whole family who remembers anything?
"So where have you been?" I asked. "It has been a while."
I was waiting for him to yell at me for my smart mouth-the sarcasm was dripping-but Dad just shrugged.
"I got a job driving coast to coast," he said. "Oranges from Florida, pork bellies from Chicago-you name it."
And then he started telling us stories about his adventures, how he'd outsmarted a robber in Flagstaff, Arizona, and how he'd gotten trapped in a blizzard out in Burlington, Vermont. And it was like no one but me thought it was weird that he was back now, that he'd never even sent a postcard the whole time he was away. Matt kept beaming, holding onto Dad's leg, and Mom sat beside them, reaching out every now and then to touch Dad's hair. Like she couldn't believe he was real.
I stayed back by the door. I think I was thinking I could get away fast if I needed to. Except I'd want to take Matt with me.
Don't read this, Mrs. Dunphrey.
While I was working at the Burger Boy last night, Dad took Matt over to Children's Palace and bought him a big Nintendo system, even better than the one I was going to get. When I got home from work, Dad had it all set up, and they were playing some video game that had to do with saving the world from invading aliens.
Matt wanted me to come play with them, but I told him it was past his bedtime.
"Any adult should know that," I said. And then I was scared, because that was the kind of thing that would have really set Dad off in the past. I was lucky-I don't think Dad heard me because the video game was so loud.
"Ti-ish, please play with us," Matt said.
"If she doesn't want to play, that's her problem," Dad said. "It's just more time for us, right? More father-son time. This is a boy's game-we don't need any girls."
"Right," Matt echoed. "No gi-irls allowed, Tish."
I went back to my bedroom so mad I wanted to hit somebody. I pounded on the bed over and over again, until Mom yelled, "Tish, stop that!"
And I couldn't yell back at her, either,
because she and Dad are so lovey-dovey now he'd probably beat me if I said anything to her.
I wish I could be like Mom and Matt and just smile, smile, smile-who cares that Dad was gone for two years? He's back now. Who cares that he yelled all the time and broke dishes and hit Mom and sometimes even me? He's not hitting anybody now.
Yet.
If Granma were here, she'd be on my side. She'd tell Mom and Matt how stupid they're being.
Tish,
Okay. Do think about The Lodestar .
Don't read this, Mrs. Dunphrey.
Dad is still being really nice. He bought Matt a pirate costume and took him out trick-or-treat-ing Saturday night. I went to a Halloween party with Rochelle and Chastity, and no one noticed that I didn't get home until 3 A.M.
Could real life be like this always? I can't believe in it.
I have noticed that Dad doesn't seem to have a job anymore. I don't know where he's getting the money to buy all those things for Matt. He bought me some perfume the other day, too, but I told him it wasn't a kind I use. It was White Sands-something for women a lot older than me.
Please don't read this, Mrs. Dunphrey.
I knew it was too good to last. Mom and Dad had a big fight last night. I came home from the Burger Boy, and Dad was throwing things at Mom-his shoes, one of the lamps, a decorative Elvis plate Mom had to go and order off the TV
"Where's Matt?" I asked right away. Dad yelled at me-something about how I was probably worse than my mother. I thought he was going to throw one of Granma's old flowerpots at me. I ran to my room and slammed the door. Then, when I was sure Dad hadn't followed me, I crept down to Mart's room. Matt was in there, hiding
under the bed crying. I pulled him out and made him sit on the bed with me. He had lint in his hair, and his eyes were all swollen and red, like he'd been crying for hours. I wanted to march back out to the living room and tell Mom and Dad to shut up, or leave, or something-anything to quit scaring Matt. Instead I held my hands over his ears.
"That's not Daddy out there," Matt told me.
"Oh yeah?" I said.
"No, it's a bad man. Daddy gives me presents."