My First Love and Other Disasters by Francine Pascal Read Free Book Online Page A

outside—where were you?” I ask them.
    â€œIt’s not important,” Cynthia cuts me off. “But next time,” she tells them, “you answer when you’re called. Now get a move on and help Victoria unload.”
    â€œI’m itchy,” DeeDee whines. Boy, she better get over that poison ivy quick.
    â€œAll right, then don’t carry anything. But show Victoria where things go and don’t disturb me—I have some important calls to make.” And she plops herself down in one of those swivel chairs by the phone and starts dialing.
    DeeDee and I go out to get our belongings. David has already brought in his load and dumpedit in the middle of the living room. I grab a couple of armfuls and follow DeeDee upstairs. There are these bedrooms on the second floor, all just adorable, freshly painted in sunny colors with starchy curtains on all the windows.
    â€œWhere’s my bedroom?” I ask DeeDee.
    â€œI’ll show you,” she says and starts running up another flight of steps. It’s a short steep flight and you come up right in the middle of a small room. It reminds me of a tent, and I love it. The ceiling is sloping and sort of low on the sides, but I can stand up almost straight in the center with no trouble. It’s a cozy room and not jammed up with a lot of extra things. There’s a neat-looking bed with a sort of antique-looking metal headboard and a nice old wooden dresser. I guess maybe it’s a little too small to be a dresser, but it’s perfect for most of my clothes, and besides, I can hang up the rest in the closet. I don’t see a closet, but they have a perfectly good metal rod behind the dresser that gives me plenty of room to hang my stuff, and then I can see exactly what I want without having to bother opening a door. It’s a little warm in here now, but that’s probably because the window has been shut. It’s a nice little window like on a boat, and it doesn’t need a curtain or even a shade because it’s too small for people to look in, which makes it very private. I love it. I love it all.
    â€œI love the room,” I tell DeeDee. “It’s so cozy and perfect.”
    â€œIt used to be a storage closet,” she announces and starts downstairs.
    â€œVictoria!” That’s my employer calling me, so naturally I answer right away. When my mother is doing it I don’t even hear her until the fourth call.
    I follow DeeDee down to Cynthia’s room. Poor Cynthia is sprawled on the bed with a wet rag on her head, looking awful. She motions me closer. It’s like one of those big dying scenes in the movies.
    â€œHoney, I’ve got a terrible headache.” It seems like an effort for her just to talk.
    â€œCan I get you anything?” I ask.
    â€œDo you want my Teddy to stay with you?” DeeDee asks.
    â€œNo, darling.” Cynthia manages a weak smile. Then she tells me that she’s taken some painkillers and the best thing she can do is rest and try to sleep. Would I please take the kids and go down and get the stuff we left with the wagon man, and while we’re there could I please pick up a couple of items from the grocery store.
    â€œMaybe you’d better give them lunch before you go,” she says, “and take the dollar on the kitchen table for an ice cream treat for all of you.”
    â€œCould I have a double, Mommy?” DeeDee asks.
    â€œWe’ll leave that to Victoria to decide,” shesays, and I kind of like that because it shows she trusts my decisions.
    â€œClose the door on your way out, please,” Cynthia whispers, sinking fast.
    We aren’t even down the stairs when DeeDee starts pulling on my jeans.
    â€œCan I?” she asks. “Can I? Please?”
    Now that’s the big difference between me and a real mother. A real mother would definitely look at her and not have the vaguest idea what she’s talking about. “Can