Dear Mr. Henshaw / Дорогой мистер Хеншоу. 7-8 классы - Клири Беверли (книга жизни TXT) 📗

“She’s washing her hair,” I said.

“Tell her that I’ll send your support payment next week,” he said. “Bye, kid. Keep your nose clean.”

“Bye, Dad,” I answered. “Drive carefully.” I guess he’ll never learn that my name is Leigh and that my nose is clean. Maybe he thinks that I’ll never learn that he drives carefully. He doesn’t really. He’s a good driver, but he speeds when he can. All truckers do.

After that I couldn’t think about Young Writers, so I took Ways to Amuse a Dog and read it again. I read harder books now, but I still feel good when I read that book. I wonder where Mr. Henshaw is.

Today is Saturday, so this morning I walked to the butterfly trees again. The grove was quiet and peaceful, and because the sun was shining, I stood there a long time, looking at the orange butterflies flying through the gray and green leaves and listening to the sound of the waves on the rocks. There aren’t as many butterflies now. Maybe they are going north for the summer. I thought I could write about them in prose, but on the way home I started thinking about Dad and one time when he took me along when he was hauling grapes to a winery and what a great day it had been.

Yesterday Miss Neely, the librarian, asked if I had written anything for the Young Writers’ Yearbook, because all writing should be handed in by tomorrow. When I told her I hadn’t, she said that I still had twenty-four hours to do it. So I did, because I really would like to meet a Famous Author. My story about the giant wax man went into the wastebasket. Next I tried to start a story called The Great Lunchbox Mystery, but I couldn’t make it into a story because I don’t know who the thief was, and I don’t want to know.

Finally I wrote a description of the time I rode with my father when he was hauling the load of grapes to a winery. I wrote about things like the road signs and how well Dad managed a long and heavy load on the curves. I wrote about the hawks on the telephone wires, how the leaves on the trees along the river were turning yellow and how good the grapes smelled in the sun. I didn’t write about the waitresses and the video games. Then I neatly copied the whole story and gave it to Miss Neely.

Mom said that I had to invite Barry to our house for supper because I now went to his house after school so often. We were working on a burglar alarm for his room which finally worked with some help from a library book.

I wasn’t sure if Barry would like to come to our house which is so small, not like his, but he said yes when I invited him.

Mom cooked a good supper. Barry said that he really liked eating at our house because he was tired of his little sisters. That made me happy. It helps to have a friend.

Barry says that his burglar alarm still works. The trouble is, his little sisters think that it’s fun to open his door to set it off. Then they giggle and hide. This makes his mother mad, so he finally decided to disconnect it. We all laughed about this. Barry and I felt good about making something that worked even if he can’t use it.

Barry saw the sign on my door that said KEEP OUT MOM THAT MEANS YOU. He asked if my Mom really stays out of my room. I said, “Sure, if I clean the mess.”

Barry said he also wanted a room which nobody ever went into. I was glad that Barry didn’t ask to use the bathroom. Maybe I should clean it after all.

I am thinking about Dad and how lonely he sounded. I wonder what happened to the pizza boy. I don’t like to think that Dad is lonesome, but I don’t like to think about the pizza boy either.

Tonight at supper I asked Mom if she thought that Dad would get married again. She thought for a while and then said, “I don’t see how he could do it. He will need a lot of money. But he still pays for the truck, and the prices of diesel go up all the time.”

I thought about this. “But he always sends my support payments,” I said, “even if he is late sometimes.”

“Yes, he does that,” said my mother. “Your father isn’t a bad man.”

Suddenly I was mad at the whole thing. “Then why don’t you two get married again?” I guess I wasn’t very nice when I said it.

Mom looked at me. “Because your father will never grow up,” she said. I knew that was all she would ever say about it.

Tomorrow we will get the Young Writers’ Yearbook! Maybe I will be lucky to have lunch with the Famous Author.

Today wasn’t the greatest day of my life. When our class went to the library, I saw the Yearbooks and couldn’t wait to get one. When I finally got mine and opened it to the first page, there was a monster story, and I saw that I hadn’t won first prize. I didn’t win second prize which went to a poem, and I didn’t win third or fourth prize, either. Then I turned another page and saw Honorable Mention and under it:

There was my title with my name under it in print. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed because I hadn’t won a prize, I was. I was really disappointed about not meeting the mysterious Famous Author, but I liked seeing my name in print.

Some kids were mad because they didn’t win or even get something printed. They said they wouldn’t ever try to write again which I think is really stupid. I heard that even real authors sometimes can’t publish their books, but they write anyway.

Then Miss Neely said that the Famous Author the winners would have lunch with was Angela Badger. The girls were more excited than the boys because Angela Badger writes mostly about girls and their problems. I would still like to meet her because she is, as they say, a real live author, and I’ve never met a real live author. I am glad that Mr. Henshaw isn’t the author because then I would really be disappointed that I couldn’t meet him.

Today was an exciting day. In the middle of the second lesson Miss Neely called me out of class and asked if I would like to go have lunch with Angela Badger. I said, “Sure, but why?”

Miss Neely said the teachers found that the winning poem wasn’t original but copied from a book, so the girl who handed it in wouldn’t go and would I like to go in her place? Of course I would!

Miss Neely called Mom at work for permission and I gave my lunch to Barry because my lunches are better than his. The other winners were all dressed nicely, but I didn’t care. I noticed that authors like Mr. Henshaw usually wear old shirts in the pictures on the back of their books. My shirt is just as old as his, so I knew it was OK.

Miss Neely took us to the Holiday Inn, where some other librarians and their winners were waiting in the hall. Then Angela Badger came with Mr. Badger, and we went into the dining room. One of the librarians told the winners to sit at a long table with a sign that said Reserved. Angela Badger sat in the middle and some of the girls pushed to sit nest to her. I sat across the table from her. The librarian told us that we could choose our lunch from the salad bar. Then all the librarians went to sit at another table with Mr. Badger.

There I was face to face with a real live author who was a nice lady, plump with wild hair, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say because I never read her books. Some girls told her how much they loved her books, but some of the boys and girls were too shy to say anything. Then Mrs. Badger said, “Why don’t we all go and get the lunch at the salad bar?”

What a mess! Some kids didn’t understand about salad bars, but Mrs. Badger showed us the way and we got all the stuff that is usually on salad bars. It took a long time, longer than in a school cafeteria. Some younger kids were too short to reach anything, but Mrs. Badger helped them.