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

you what?” she’d ask. But of course I know exactly what she wants. She’s asking about the double scoop. Another thing—Cynthia would certainly say to her, “We’ll see,” and make it all hinge on how she eats her lunch. But I always hated when my mother would make one thing hang on another, and I swore I wouldn’t do that with my own kids, so I might as well start practising right now.
    â€œAbsolutely,” I tell DeeDee. “You can have whatever two flavors you want.”
    Naturally the kid’s stunned.
    I find David and fix them both tuna sandwiches. David wolfs his down in two seconds, but DeeDee just sits there staring at hers.
    â€œCome on, DeeDee,” I coax her. “At least finish half.”
    â€œI don’t want to,” she says, shoving it away from her.
    â€œDo you want something else?”
    Naturally I could threaten to take away the second ice cream, but what for? That’d be just what mothers always do, and I want to try out some of my own ideas about raising kids.
    â€œAre you sure you’re not hungry at all?” I ask her one last time.
    â€œUh-uh, I’m all fulled up.”
    You have to trust what a kid says; after all, she knows if she’s hungry or not better than I do. “Okay,” I tell them, “then let’s get going.”
    We get the empty wagons and David shows me how to pile them all on my wagon. We start walking toward the docks. I can see that DeeDee is unhappy. I think it’s because she wants a ride, so I ask her if she wants to sit in the wagon, but she shakes her head no.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, DeeDee? Come on, you can tell me.”
    â€œAm I still going to get the ice cream?” she asks, about a millimeter away from tears.
    â€œOf course you are. Just like I promised. A double scoop.” Poor kid’s not used to trusting mother figures. I’m going to be the best mother in the whole world.
    â€œI want it now.”
    â€œIt’ll taste better when you’re hungry.”
    â€œBut I am hungry.” Instantly her nose is red,and the tears are streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t have any lunch,” she wails.
    I think I’ve been had by a five-year-old. “Okay, okay . . .” What can I do? I really did promise.
    â€œNow,” she says, all smiles, “you said I could ride on the wagon. Put me on.”
    I’ll get her.
    The little monster climbs up on the wagon and off we go toward the ice cream shop. It’s down near the ferry dock. All the action is around there. Cute boutiques and grocery stores and even a pizza place. I keep my eyes open for The Dunes, the place where Jim works, but I don’t see it. David and DeeDee never heard of it, but that’s probably because they’re too little.
    The ice cream is sensational, best I ever had, but I guess the price must have gone up since last year because I have to kick in fifty cents. I don’t mind, though, especially since I know Cynthia’s having a terrible money problem. She’s trying to sell the Fire Island house, and I heard that they may have to move from their apartment in the city. Everyone says it’s because Jed doesn’t pay anything. He’s truly disgusting to walk out the way he did and then not send money, not even any for the kids. That really stinks. I feel very bad for Cynthia.
    We return the wagons to the rental place andpick up the one we had to leave there. Another ferry is pulling in and the kids want to watch, so we walk out on the pier. And then I hear a guy’s voice not two feet behind me say, “Hi, Victoria.”

Seven
    It’s Barry, that guy I told you about, the one who’s always staring at me, from school, Jim’s friend.
    â€œOh, hi, Barry,” I say, giving my mouth a quick wipe for any stray cone crumbs, pulling in my stomach, smiling, and trying inconspicuously not to notice if Jim is anywhere