Читать книгу Dream Dad - Holly Haggarty - Страница 7

The next day, Miss Grunwort was back at school. This time, Willa and Marina waited very quietly at their seats for her to start. They knew now not to expect a warning whistle.

“Today,” said Miss Grunwort, “we’re going to write letters to our fathers. Nice long letters, not just ‘Dear Daddy, I love you’ — the way you did when you were in kindergarten. Then we’ll take our pictures and letters and paste them onto construction paper to make Father’s Day cards.”

Willa liked writing letters. She often typed letters to her mother on the computer at home. But how do you write a letter to a father you’ve never met?

Willa did her best. She wrote:

Dear Daddy, Dad, father,

How are you? I am fine. I’m eight now, you know.

I hope you have enough food to eat on the desert island.

Are you all alone? Are you lonely?

Happy father’s Day!

From your daughter,

Willa Evertt

But she had no way to send him the letter. Except maybe in a bottle.

Miss Grunwort passed by and read Willa’s letter. Once again, she didn’t approve. “Willa, I meant a real letter. Do you think your father will want to read this pretend one?”

Willa felt hurt. It was a real letter, as real as she could make it. She didn’t know what to say to the teacher, how to explain about her father.

And she didn’t get a chance to because the teacher went on: “Try to write another letter, telling your father about real things.” Then she left to check someone else’s work.

Marina, who had read Willa’s letter, whispered to her, “Tell her you have to pretend because you don’t have a real father!”

“But this is a real card,” Willa insisted. “I do too have a father! My mother told me.”

Marina looked at her in astonishment. But Willa didn’t get a chance to explain further because Miss Grunwort interrupted with: “Willa, pay attention to your work, not your friend, or you’ll have to sit somewhere else!”

Willa was very careful not to talk with Marina again — she didn’t want to have to sit beside Rex. She didn’t even say anything when Marina showed her a picture she had drawn of a lady with yellow hair and covered with green spots. Underneath Marina had written, “Miss Green Wart has them! She’s a witch!”

Not until recess could Willa explain. “My mother finally told me something about my father. You know what? She said she left him on a desert island when I was a baby. We were shipwrecked. My Mom and I got away, but he didn’t.”

“That’s what she told you?” Marina stared at Willa in disbelief. “I’ve never heard of anybody being shipwrecked. What else did she say? Did your father drown?”

“I hope not,” Willa replied. “And you don’t know my mother. I had a hard enough time getting that much information out of her. She hates talking about my father.”

“Shipwrecked,” Marina repeated. “I can hardly believe it. Maybe your mother was just telling you a story. Maybe she’s hiding the truth.”

“Well,” Willa admitted, “she didn’t actually say shipwrecked. But that’s what I think. When she’s in the right mood, I’ll ask her again.”

“You know whose father was shipwrecked?” Marina had just thought of something. “Pippi Longstocking’s. But that’s just in a book.”

Willa knew about Pippi Longstocking. They had read that book aloud in class. Pippi’s father was shipwrecked on an island. But unlike Willa, Pippi didn’t have a mother either. She lived alone with a monkey and a suitcase of gold . . . I wish I had a suitcase filled with gold, thought Willa.

“Hey,” said Marina, “maybe your father has found treasure on the island. Maybe pirates were there long ago and left gold. It’s not much good to him there, though. I hope it also has fruit trees and some animals to hunt. Maybe it’s not a desert island, but just deserted.”

After school, Willa stopped at Marina’s to play. She found she didn’t have to call home, though, because her mother was at Marina’s too, having tea at the kitchen table with Aunt Nadya. They looked funny together, the two mothers. They were so different!

Aunt Nadya had flaming red, frizzy hair. Even though it was a hot day in June, she was dressed up. She always wore make-up and fancy clothes or costumes. Today she wore a full red skirt of cotton lace with a scooped-neck matching blouse. She was feeding one triplet, who sat in a high chair. Another was in her lap, attacking her earrings, while the third was sitting on the floor, chewing her shoe buckle. To Willa, Aunt Nadya looked like a gypsy fortune-teller. Beside her, Willa’s mother looked very plain in a white shirt and the same faded jeans she always wore. She was hunched over her cup, as if she were hoping for a very good fortune.

“There you are, Willa,” Aunt Nadya greeted her. “Guess what? I get to babysit! There’s a party at the university tonight. I’ve told your mother she should go, even though she still hasn’t gone to a movie with me, as she’s been promising. You can stay here for a sleep-over.”

A sleep-over! Willa and Marina were overjoyed! Willa had never slept over at Marina’s before. They could play all night long!

First, though, they had to take care of the triplets. This the girls didn’t mind. They loved playing “mother” with the triplets—especially since there was more than enough baby to go around!

Pamela, Marina’s older sister, came home early for once. She was supposed to come home right after school too, to help out, but she usually managed to be late. Pamela went to high school and she wore make-up: black eye liner, pale face powder and icy-pink lipstick, exactly the same way all her friends did. Willa preferred Aunt Nadya’s make-up: lots of colour around her eyes and bright red lipstick. It was much more glamorous, she thought. Willa wished her mother wore make-up.

“You haven’t cleaned the bathrooms yet!” Marina reminded her sister. “Mom said you can’t watch television until they’re done.”

Pamela rolled her eyes as she walked by.

Soon Marina’s father, Mr. Borzikowski, arrived, wearing coveralls streaked with mud. He worked as a gardener for the city. The babies waved and babbled excitedly when he entered the kitchen. He lay down to play with them on the kitchen floor and soon all three were clambering over him, reaching for his long, bushy beard.

“Take those filthy coveralls off,” Aunt Nadya called out from the dining room, where she was sewing. “Don’t muck up the babies!”

For supper, Mr. Borzikowski made spaghetti. There were eight people around the table, including the triplets in high chairs, who were fed mashed spaghetti. Willa couldn’t believe the noise. The babies cried and laughed and banged their spoons. Several conversations went on at the same time, and everyone interrupted each other, shouting to be heard over the clamour.

After supper it was discovered that Pamela still hadn’t cleaned the bathrooms. This set off a shouting match between Pamela and her mother.

“I want those bathrooms done right now!”

“Why should I have to clean them? Why can’t Marina?”

“Marina has been taking care of the triplets when she comes home from school—something you never do!”

“That’s not work. That’s play!”

“And you will play in the bathrooms, right now, or you will be grounded!”

Pamela stomped upstairs. When Marina reminded her mother that it was also Pamela’s turn to load the dishwasher, Aunt Nadya told Marina and Willa to do it.

“That’s not fair,” Marina protested loudly. “Pamela gets out of everything just by not doing anything!”

“Just do it!” Aunt Nadya ordered.