And This Is Laura. Ellen Conford

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СКАЧАТЬ Gardens.”

      “Oh, sure, I know where that is.” She nodded.

      Old Hillside Gardens is an area of Hillside with big, old houses, no sidewalks and lots of tall trees and broad lawns. They call it Old because right near it they built New Hillside Gardens, which has big modern houses, smaller, younger trees and sidewalks.

      “We’re in Country Manor,” Beth said. “I have to get the late bus.”

      Country Manor is a lot like New Hillside Gardens but newer and way over on the other side of town.

      “Hey, why don’t you come home with me?” she said. “They don’t care who gets on the late bus. They don’t even check the bus passes.”

      I hesitated. I wanted to, but it was already late and I had so much homework to do and I didn’t know how I was going to get home.

      “Come on,” she urged, starting to walk toward the waiting bus. “We can do our homework together, and my mother could drive you home. Or you could stay and have dinner with us.”

      “Well . . .”

      “Come on, we’ll miss the bus.”

      “Well, if you’re sure your mother wouldn’t mind—”

      “Of course she wouldn’t mind. She’s always telling me to bring my friends home.”

      Beth already thought of me as her friend. I liked that.

      “And if we get our homework done fast,” she went on, “we can think up pantomimes for each other to do.”

      “Or,” I said, following her onto the bus, “we could do one the other person has to guess. To see how realistic we can be.”

      “That’s a good idea. Like charades.”

      The bus pulled away just as we got into seats.

      “Oh,” I said suddenly.

      “What?”

      “I guess I accept your invitation.”

      Beth laughed.

3

      THE FIRST THING I noticed about Beth’s house was how quiet it was. No one was pounding on a grand piano. No one was rehearsing the role of a madwoman in the dining room. No one was raving about the impact of Ultra Brite on his love life.

      True, there was the sound of Fred and Wilma Flintstone arguing in another room, but it was not simultaneously combined with all of the above, as it is in our house.

      The second thing I noticed was how neat and orderly everything was. There was no clutter in the living room; a big bowl of fresh fruit was the only thing that sat on the glossy surface of the dining room table. In our house, if you want to eat in the dining room it’s a major production. You practically have to hire a bulldozer to clear away the debris.

      I waited for Beth to tell me I had to take off my shoes to walk across the pearl gray wall-to-wall carpeting, which looked brand new. I had been in houses where that was required, but Beth just led me through the living room and dining room to the kitchen without a word about keeping the rugs clean.

      Beth’s mother was having a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter when we came in. The counter was in the center of the kitchen and divided it in half. Like everything else in the room, it gleamed.

      “Hi, honey.” Mrs. Traub put down her coffee cup and looked up from the newspaper.

      “Hi. Mom, this is Laura Hoffman. She’s in the dramatic club too.”

      “Hi, Laura. How did the meeting go?”

      “It was fun,” Beth said. “Is there anything to eat?”

      She rummaged through the copper-colored refrigerator and came up with Hawaiian Punch, chive cheese and two pears. Then she took a box of crackers and a bag of potato chips from a cabinet.

      “Leave some room for dinner,” Mrs. Traub said mildly.

      “We will.” Beth lined up everything on a red enamel tray, along with glasses and knives. “Listen, is it all right if Laura stays for dinner?”

      “No, really, I can’t.” I didn’t want to just barge in like that and have Mrs. Traub worrying about how to stretch the lamb chops to feed an extra mouth.

      “Of course you can,” Mrs. Traub said. She didn’t seem to be counting lamb chops in her head. “It’s only going to be spaghetti and meatballs, Laura, and I’ve got plenty. We’d love to have you.”

      “Well—if you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” I did want to stay. I felt very comfortable in Beth’s house.

      “It isn’t any trouble. It’s all made already, except for the spaghetti; we just have to put an extra plate on the table, and if it makes you feel better, I’ll let you do that.”

      She grinned at me, and I smiled back. She was very pretty, younger than my mother and a lot more dignified looking. She had on this cream-colored pantsuit with a brown and beige striped sweater. My mother, who could be absolutely stunning if she felt like it, is about as clothes-conscious as my father. She’s partial to old jeans and sweat shirts with pictures of Beethoven on them. When she goes out shopping, she throws a fringed shawl over this outfit. She has even been known to rush out for a carton of milk in the winter with a twenty-year-old mink coat draped over her sweat shirt and jeans.

      If I protest that people will think her even more eccentric than they already do, she replies, “But it’s coming back in style. This type of coat is just what they’re wearing now.”

      Beth’s mother was waiting for my response.

      “Come on, Laura,” Beth urged. “Stay.”

      “Okay,” I said. “Thank you. I’d better call home and tell them.”

      I followed Beth upstairs. The sound of the television was barely audible up there and in her room, with the door closed, you couldn’t hear it at all.

      “You can use the phone in my parents’ room,” Beth said. “Just shut the door so you can hear yourself talk. My brother sits in front of that TV all afternoon.”

      “How old is he?”

      “Seven. He’s a real brat.”

      “So’s my brother. Seven, I mean.”

      “We ought to get them together,” Beth said. “At your house,” she added quickly.

      After I called home we ate the cheese and crackers and pears. Beth’s room was as neat and quietly elegant as the rest of the house. Everything was white and yellow and green; it would be summer all year round in there.

      “Your mother’s nice,” I said as we finished off the potato chips and juice.

      “Yeah. СКАЧАТЬ