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

"Yeah, but we could start on it now, and then each of us do more and put it together the next time."
"Yeah, sure we could," Rachel said fairly enthusiastically.
So I got Mom's scrap basket and scissors and we sat down with our backs against the porch railings and pulled out pieces of cloth and started to cut them up. There were some nice scraps, including a piece of flowery material big enough for a lot of squares. I was glad I'd thought of a quilt. It was a good long project.
"I'll take good care of the doll house, Rach," I said, cutting into the cloth. "You won't have to worry about it. I'll keep it clean and water the plants and all-"
Rachel looked up. "Listen, Annie," she said carefully. "I don't want you to think I expect you to keep it in your room forever or anything."
"I will, though!" Even as I said it I wasn't positive. It's hard to predict how you'll feel. Before, I used to think you could.
"You know how, in books, the kids put their doll houses away in the attic when they grow up?" Rachel asked. "Maybe you could do that. It would be nice to always know it was there, even when we're old."
"Oh, yes! We could keep it there forever! And then our kids could go up to the attic and find it. If we had any." It was strange to imagine us with kids.
"It's strange to imagine us with kids," Rachel said.
"Yeah." I wondered if our ESP would work when
Rachel moved. It probably would. She wasn't going that far. "I don't see why people want to try to predict the future," I said. "Just getting used to the present is complicated enough."
"I know it," said Rachel.
"Hey, where'd you get that?" Kenny came out with Peter and looked down at the doll house. "Isn't that Rachel's?"
"She gave it to me, just now." I hoped he'd realize what an important present it was, and not make some mean remark.
"Hey, that was nice of you, Rachel," he said, as though he understood. He grabbed Rachel's hand and sort of shook it. "Well. In case I don't see you," he said quite formally, "good luck with everything." He let her hand go. "We'll miss you."
Rachel smiled up at him. "Thanks, Kenny."
Then Peter tapped her shoulder and said, "So long, Rachel," and they went down the steps and off somewhere.
The good-byes had made me nervous. I suddenly remembered. "Rach! I forgot your present!"
"I didn't know there was one."
I poked her. "That's the point, dope-it's a surprise!" I ran inside for the book. That morning, before I wrapped it, I had written a poem inside:
You may go away But you leave behind
Happy memories
Like pictures in my mind.
I held the package in my hand for a minute. I suddenly felt shy. Then I gave it to Rachel.
"It's a beautiful package," she said shyly. Neither of us had any practice with good-bye gifts before.
"Open it!"
Rachel untied the ribbon and pulled the paper off. The book was upside down. I can't ever wrap a book so the title comes out on top.
Rachel turned it over. Then she gasped. "Oh, Annie! Oh, wow, that's so neat! Thanks!" She opened the cover and read my poem. "Oh, it's beautiful! You're such a good writer!" She had started to cry. "Thank you! I'll treasure it for my whole life." She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Then she turned the pages, blinking.
"You wouldn't believe how hard it was not to tell you!" I said.
"I'm glad you didn't, Annie. It's such a wonderful surprise."
There was a honk. We both jumped. Mrs. Weiss was in the driveway.
She got out of the car and came toward us.
"Mom, look what Annie gave me!" Rachel held out the book.
Mrs. Weiss took it. "Oh, Annie-what a beautiful gift!" She opened the book and read my poem and
burst into tears. "Oh, dear," she said, fumbling for a tissue. "I didn't mean to do that! I told myself before I came, 'Now, don't go crying at the last minute, when the girls have done so well.' " She wiped her eyes.
Mom came out on the porch, with two pots of garden mint. "How are you, Denny?"
"I'm O.K." Mrs. Weiss blew her nose and tried to smile. "Annie's poem just did me in for a minute."
"I hope you'll have room for this," Mom said, giving her the mint. "I thought you'd like something green on your windowsills, you and Clayton."
That was thoughtful of Mom. But the idea of two pots-one for Rachel and her mother and the other for her father's separate home-was so sad. I tightened up, not wanting to cry.
"Thanks." Mrs. Weiss patted Mom's arm. Then she hugged me. Mom hugged Rachel. I could tell it was coming.
"Rachel." Mrs. Weiss started down the steps. "We really have to go."
I picked up the squares we'd cut out and handed Rachel half of them, wordlessly. She and I stared at each other.
"So long, Rach," I said.
We grabbed each other and hung on. Then Rachel pulled away, ran to the car, and came back with a brown envelope. She handed it to me. "Here. I didn't know when to give it to you."
I stood there holding the envelope while she got in
the car. I could see her glasses through the windshield. The car backed slowly away.
"Good-bye!" I called after it. "Good-bye, Rach!"
Mom kissed me quickly and went inside. She knows when you need to be alone. I sat down on the steps and opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph.
It was Nora! She looked so real. She was curled up in the sunlight asleep, with her head over her paw. It must have been that day when we tried to teach her tricks.
"Oh, Nora," I said. "Oh, Nora, you were so beautiful!" I wished so much that she could come alive, just even for a minute, and curl up in my lap and comfort me with her soft weight.