"Martin, Ann M - BSC036 - Jessi's Babysitter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

I got the job.
When the phone didn't ring again for awhile, we began talking.
"When's your aunt coming, Jessi?" Stacey wanted to know. (By then, practically the whole world knew my aunt was moving in.)
"I'm not sure," I said. "I mean, Aunt Cecelia isn't even sure. She still has to hire movers, sell some of her furniture, things like that." I paused. Then, "Ohhh," I moaned. "Why does she have to come? There must be some other solution to this problem. Perhaps my parents could hire a jailer."
Kristy giggled. But then she said, "Really,
Jessi. How bad could having your aunt move in actually be? Nannie moved in with my family, and it's been great. We love having her around."
"And Mimi lived with us for as long as I can remember," added Claud. "You know how I felt about her. She was like another mother."
I knew. And I knew that Nannie was wonderful, too.
But Aunt Cecelia would not be wonderful, and my friends wouldn't understand that until they personally saw Aunt Cecelia in action.
Chapter 4.
I raced directly to the Rodowskys' from school. Mrs. Rodowsky needed me by three-thirty so that she could drive Shea to his music lesson and little Archie to his soccer lesson. (Can you imagine a bunch of four-year-olds playing soccer? It must be quite a sight.)
As I pedaled along, I remembered telling Mama that morning that I would be going directly to a sitting job after school. I knew she wouldn't worry about me. But, I thought, would things be different when Aunt Cecelia was in charge? Would she let me go places without checking in after school? Would she remember my afternoon plans when I told them to her over breakfast in the morning?
Aunt Cecelia is an old prune.
I arrived at the Rodowsky's right on time, parked my bike, and rang their front doorbell.
I heard running footsteps inside, then a whoosh, a crash, and a cry of, "Oh, darn, darn. Oh ... bullfrogs!"
I giggled. 1 knew that was Jackie.
"Jackie!" I called. "It's me, Jessi. Are you okay?"
Jackie opened the door, looking sheepish. "I was running to answer the bell and I slipped on the rug and fell on my bottom."
I smiled, shaking my head. Then I let myself in and helped Jackie straighten out the rug.
"Jessi?" called Mrs. Rodowsky. "Is that you?"
"Yes!" I replied. (I hoped she didn't think I had slipped on the rug.)
Mrs. Rodowsky was in a rush.
"Archie!" she exclaimed. "You're supposed to be in your soccer uniform. And, Shea, where are your piano books?"
The house was in turmoil for about five minutes — Jackie added to it by somehow getting his foot stuck in one of his old rain boots — but finally Mrs. R. and the boys were backing hurriedly down the driveway. I was left with Jackie and the rain boot.
"I know I can get this off your foot," I told him.
"But what if you can't?" whimpered Jackie.
"Jackie," I said, "have you ever heard of someone who got a boot stuck on his foot and never got it off?"
"No," replied Jackie, as I braced myself against a wall and pulled.
"I wonder/' said Jackie, trying not to slide forward. "You know, boots are sometimes called galoshes. Is one boot called a galosh?"
"I haven't the faintest — Oof! Well, there you go, Jackie. The boot's off. You're free."
"Thanks," he said gratefully.
Jackie wandered around the playroom, looking bored.
"What do you want to do?" I asked him.
"I don't know."
"Do you have any homework?"
"Nope. Well, not really. We're just supposed to think about whether we want to enter the science fair at school."
"Do you?" I asked him.
"Me?" squeaked Jackie. "Are you kidding? I have bad luck. I would never enter a contest. . . . Even though I think it would be fun to make a volcano."
"Fun to do what?" I repeated.
"Make a volcano. I saw that on The Brady Bunch once. You can build a model of a volcano, but it really works. I mean, lava really comes pouring out. That would be great. Lava everywhere."
The thought of "lava everywhere" made me sort of queasy. Even so, I said, "Jackie, you ought to make a volcano for the science fair! It would be a great project. Everyone else
would probably just have, you know, things like leaf collections, or bugs in jars, but you would build a volcano that would erupt. You'd win for sure."
Jackie looked skeptical. "I don't know," he said. "I bet some kids would do really, really, really good projects. I'm not very smart in science. Besides, like I said, I have bad luck. I can't show a project to judges and an audience. Things never go right for me. Something bad would happen."
"Jackie. That's no way to talk. You have to have confidence in yourself. A volcano — a spewing, dripping, running volcano — is a really terrific project. The kids would love it. More important, so would the teachers and judges."
"I don't know," said Jackie slowly.
"Oh, come on," I said. "This'll be great. Let's go to the library right now and see what kind of information we can find on volcanoes and how to make them. I'll leave a note for your mom in case she comes home early."
I didn't give Jackie a chance to say no. I just handed him his jacket, wrote the note, put on my own jacket, and marched Jackie to the public library. He barely said a word as we walked along.
When we reached the library, the first per-
son we saw was Mrs. Kishi, Claudia's mother! She's the head librarian.
"Hello," she greeted us, as we entered the children's section. "What are you two doing here?"