Read All About It. Valerie Tripp

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СКАЧАТЬ disturb Stirling in case he was napping. Kit held her nose when she passed by, because the hall outside his room smelled strongly of Vicks VapoRub even though the door was always shut.

      But one afternoon, Kit noticed that the door to the guest room was open. She sneaked a peek inside. Stirling was propped up on the pillows, and Mrs. Howard was nowhere to be seen. Of course, it was hard to see anything in the room. It was dark because the shades were pulled down.

      Kit stood in the doorway and looked at Stirling’s moon-white face on the pillow. “Gosh, it sure is stuffy in here,” Kit said to Stirling. “Don’t you want me to open the window or something?”

      Stirling nodded.

      Kit opened the window a crack so that a breath of air and a thin line of sunlight came through. “That’s better!” she said. Kit turned to go. She was halfway to the door when she saw a photograph next to Stirling’s bed that stopped her in her tracks. “Hey!” she said. “Is that Ernie Lombardi, the catcher for the Reds?”

      Stirling’s round eyes were as unblinking as an owl’s as he looked at Kit. His nose was stuffed up, so his voice sounded weirdly low and husky. “Schnozz,” he croaked.

      For a second, Kit didn’t understand. Then she laughed and nodded. “Schnozz!” she said. “That’s Ernie Lombardi’s nickname because he has such a big nose.”

      In answer, Stirling blew his nose, which made a nice honking sound.

      Kit laughed again. “Ernie Lombardi is my favorite player on the Cincinnati Reds,” she said. “He’s the reason I’m a catcher. Well, and because my dad was a star catcher on his college team. Did you know that Ernie’s the biggest guy on the Reds?”

      “Six foot three,” whispered Stirling hoarsely. “Two hundred and thirty pounds.”

      “Right!” said Kit, delighted. She rattled on. “It’s funny that you like him,” she said, “because he’s so big and you’re so little.”

      “That’s why,” said Stirling simply. He didn’t sound the least bit offended, even though right after she spoke, Kit realized that she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

      “You know what?” said Kit, suddenly inspired. “I have a newspaper article about Ernie Lombardi. It has a photograph of him holding seven baseballs in one hand at the same time. It used to be tacked up on my wall. My mother wouldn’t let me put it back up after my room was painted pink, but I bet I can find it. Want to see it?”

      Stirling nodded vigorously, and Kit noticed that his eyes weren’t colorless at all. They were gray.

      “Okay!” she said. “I’ll get the article and you can read all about it!” Kit tore back to her room and rummaged through the drawers of her desk. Where was that newspaper article with the photo of Schnozz? She hoped Mother hadn’t thrown it away! Scrambling wildly through the bottom drawer, Kit found the scrap of newspaper at last. She raced back to Stirling’s room shouting, “I found it!”

      Kit flung open the door and BAM! The door hit Mrs. Howard, who was standing right inside with a silver tray in her hands.

      “MY LAND!” shrieked Mrs. Howard. She lurched forward and the tray, which had one of Mother’s best china teacups and saucers on it, went flying. The hot tea sloshed out all over the rug. The cup hit the floor and shattered, and the tray clanged to the ground with a noise like cymbals.

      “Oh dear, oh dear!” fussed Mrs. Howard. At the same time, Stirling started to cough loudly. Kit tried to apologize in a voice louder than his coughs, and Charlie appeared and added to the commotion by asking, “What happened? What’s all the noise?”

      They were all talking at once when Mother came in. “Good gracious!” she said above all the racket. “Now what?”

      Everyone stopped talking, even Mrs. Howard.

      “Will someone please tell me what is going on?” asked Mother, not sounding at all like her usual serene self.

      Everyone looked at Kit.

      Kit knew that Mother disliked messes, so she tried to explain how this one was just an accident. “I was coming in here to show Stirling my picture of Ernie Lombardi,” she said, “and I didn’t know that Mrs. Howard was right behind the door. I was in a hurry and I—”

      Mother held up her hand to stop Kit. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “I can imagine the rest.” She shook her head. “How many times have I told you to slow down and watch where you’re going, Kit?”

      “I’m sorry,” said Kit.

      Mother stooped down to pick up the broken cup. “Just look at what you’ve done,” she said.

      Kit was shocked. It wasn’t like Mother to scold her like this. “But it wasn’t my fault,” she protested. “It was an accident. It was nobody’s fault.”

      “Nobody’s fault,” repeated Mother. “And yet look at the mess we are in.” She looked up at Kit. “Please go now,” she said. “I’ll help Mrs. Howard clean up. And Kit, dear, please don’t barge in here bothering Stirling and making messes anymore.”

      “But I didn’t—” Kit began.

      “That’s enough, Kit,” said Mother. “Go now.”

      Kit gave up. She turned on her heel and stormed back to her room. Mother seemed to think that the mess was all her fault, but it wasn’t! She didn’t mean to knock into Mrs. Howard. Stupid old Stirling was more to blame for the mess than Kit was. If he weren’t sick, his mother wouldn’t have been bringing him hot tea in the middle of the afternoon in the first place!

      Kit flung herself down at the desk and looked at the wrinkled newspaper article in her hand. What did it matter that her photo of Ernie Lombardi holding seven baseballs was all crumpled up? She couldn’t put it up on her new pink walls, and she sure wasn’t going to show it to Stirling. She wasn’t going to try to be nice to old sniffle-nose Stirling ever again. Look at the trouble it caused her.

      Nothing made Kit more angry than being unjustly accused. She didn’t mind a good fair fight. But to be blamed for something that was not her fault? That she could not stand. In books when people were accused of crimes they didn’t commit, someone like Nancy Drew or Dick Tracy always came around and proved that they were innocent. Kit could see that in her case, she was going to have to speak for herself. She knew just how to do it, too. She’d write a special newspaper for Dad. Then at least one person would know her side of the story.

      Kit rolled a piece of paper into the typewriter. In capital letters, she typed her headline:

      IT’S NOT FAIR!

      It’s Not Fair

       CHAPTER 3

      ounding the typewriter keys as hard as she could made Kit feel better. The good thing about writing was that she got to СКАЧАТЬ