Читать книгу The Tangled Web - Kathryn Reiss - Страница 7

JULIE INVITED CARLA home after school. Joy walked with them as far as her street, and then Julie and Carla continued on together. Julie pushed open the door to Gladrags, her mother’s little shop on the ground floor beneath their apartment, and the bell above the door jangled. Carla stepped through the curtain of beads at the shop door, her eyes sparkling. “What a cute place!”

“Gladrags is my mom’s baby,” Julie said, feeling proud of her mom. Running the shop was a lot of work, but a lot of fun, too. It was a treasure trove of trendy miscellany: There were racks of Indian print dresses, knitted ponchos, colorful silk scarves, and hand-tooled leather belts. There were glass cases displaying earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, and baskets of charms and beads for making your own. Shelves around the room held pottery and candles, incense, kites, lamps, and wooden toys. A table in the window was full of hand-painted flowerpots, and macramé plant holders hung from the ceiling.

But today there was no sign of Mrs. Albright. Instead, Hank was working behind the counter. He waved to Julie and Carla. “Hello, lovely ladies. The boss has gone off with Tracy at the wheel and left me in charge. They shouldn’t be gone too long—just went to the market to buy provisions for our Thanksgiving feast.” He smiled at them. “The fellows I’m bringing with me to the party will just be so glad of a home-cooked meal, I doubt they’ll notice whether we’re eating roast turkey or plain old hot dogs.”

“I think it’ll be fun to have the soldiers with us on Thanksgiving,” Julie said. Then she introduced Carla. “This is Carla—she’s new at school. Carla, this is our friend Hank. He works at the rehab center for injured soldiers.”

Carla winced. “That must be so hard,” she murmured, and then quickly turned away to look at some silver bangles displayed on top of the counter. She tried one on her wrist.

“Two for a buck,” Hank said. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

“Yes!” Carla hesitated, then put the bracelet back. “I’ll come back when I’ve got my money with me.”

Julie led the way up the stairs at the back of the shop. “I’ll be down here till your mom gets back,” Hank called after them. “She said she left you a snack on the table.”

Julie and Carla hurried up to the kitchen, where a plate of Oreos waited. They each took three cookies and headed for Julie’s room.

Carla was good company. She roamed around, inspecting the bead curtain around Julie’s bed, her bulletin board, her posters, her bookshelf, and the framed photo of Julie and her sister sitting on the buckboard of an old-fashioned covered wagon.

“That picture was taken last summer,” Julie told Carla, “on the last leg of a cross-country trip to celebrate the Bicentennial. We had loads of fun living like pioneers!”

“Sounds cool,” said Carla. She plopped herself cross-legged in the center of Julie’s bed, as if she’d been Julie’s friend forever, and Julie smiled. “My family has had some great trips together, too,” Carla said. She described the amazing vacations she’d taken with her large family: They’d gone to Hawaii, Canada, Mexico, and Italy. Julie couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy; the Bicentennial trip had been wonderful, but her family rarely went traveling, and never all together since the divorce. Her mom had to work so hard running Gladrags, and her dad’s busy flight schedule kept him away often.

A little later, Julie and Carla made popcorn, shaking the foil-covered Jiffy-Pop pan over the stove and watching as the foil puffed up like a balloon. They talked about what they liked to read and discovered they both loved mysteries.

“I named my spider Harriet, in honor of Harriet the Spy,” said Julie. “She’s Harriet the Spy-der!”

“Ew—you have a pet spider?”

“Only because I really want a dog, but I can’t have one,” Julie explained.

“Well…my sister is named for Nancy Drew!” Carla told her, giggling. “No, really she was named for our Aunt Nancy. Nancy is my kindergarten sister. She can be a pest sometimes. At least my dog doesn’t sneak into my room and play with my stuff.”

“What kind of dog do you have?” Julie asked eagerly.

“A border collie,” said Carla. “And he’s super smart.” She told Julie about all the tricks her dog could do. He could shake paws and jump over hurdles, roll over and play dead, and even search for hidden objects.

“You have to invite me over to meet him!” cried Julie. “We could hide things for him to find.”

“Or I could bring him by when I’m taking him on a walk,” offered Carla. “You could walk with us.”

“I’d love to!”

The girls took their popcorn back to Julie’s room. Julie got out her tape recorder. “Okay,” she said into the microphone, “this is KJC radio. Today we present an interview with—ta-dah!—Carla Warner, New Girl in Town.”

Carla laughed. “What’s KJC stand for?”

“Well, West Coast radio stations always start with K. And the J is for Julie, of course, and the C—”

“—is for Carla!” finished Carla. “That’s good. Or we could call it KSPY. Because we both like spies.”

“That’s even better,” said Julie, rewinding the cassette tape. “I’ll start over.” She spoke dramatically into the microphone. “This is KSPY, best station in the West. And today’s interview features the famous Carla Warner, New Spy in Town!”

“You can’t tell people I’m a spy,” objected Carla. “It’s supposed to be secret.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

They started again, giggling. Julie asked Carla about her dog. “What’s his name? Our listeners would dearly love to know.”

“Jack,” she said. “Blackjack the border collie.”

“How fascinating,” said Julie in her radio voice. “And can you tell our listeners what it’s like to have a twin brother?”

Carla rolled her eyes and made a gagging noise. “No,” she corrected herself. “That’s unfair to Tom. Usually it’s lots of fun having a twin.”

“I thought his name was Tim,” said Julie.

“Nope—Tom is my twin brother,” said Carla, tossing her hair quickly off her shoulders. “Tim is my older brother. The one in eleventh grade. Tom can be a lot of fun, but Tim is usually a pain because he’s in high school and thinks he’s really cool. Todd’s okay, though. He’s the one in college. College guys are a little more mature than high-school guys.”

“High-school guys?” Tracy popped her head inside Julie’s room. “I’m Julie’s sister,” she told Carla. “Who are you—and what was that about high-school guys?”

“This is Carla,” Julie said. “Her family just moved here. And her brother Tom is in eleventh grade. I mean Tim.”

“At the high school? Cool! Maybe I know him.”

“No, he goes to Maxwell Academy,” Carla replied.

“Hmm. Well, maybe I can come to your house and meet him,” said Tracy with a grin.

“Sure—but he’s awfully busy,” said Carla. “He has practice for football and basketball and stuff. And he plays the piano and practices that, too. So does my twin brother. Tim plays piano, and Tom plays guitar. They want to make a band with our oldest brother, Todd. He plays the saxophone, but he’s in college now and doesn’t have a lot of time. Maybe they’ll make their band in the summer. And when they do, I’m going to be the singer.”

“Hey, like the Partridge Family!” Julie pointed out. It was hard to keep the names of Carla’s many siblings straight. “But I thought it was Tom who played the piano. Didn’t you tell us that at school?”

Carla laughed. “We all play the piano, but some of us play a lot better than others! In fact, everybody tells me I’d better just keep my voice as my instrument.”

“You do have a great voice,” Julie said, remembering Carla’s singing on the playground with T. J.

“Maybe you’ll be like Joni Mitchell or Carly Simon when you grow up,” said Tracy.

Carla smiled. “I’d love that,” she said. “But my mom says I have so many stories in my head, I should write adventure novels.”

“Or mysteries!” suggested Julie.

“Yeah—but I think I’d be a good master spy.”

“Me too. Or a detective. My friend Ivy and I want to open a detective agency someday.”

“My dad’s a—” began Carla, then bit her lip.

“A what?”

“Well, he’s a doctor, like I said. But he told me he’d love to be a detective.”

“Spies are much more glamorous,” Tracy said, raising her eyebrows archly. “Like in those James Bond movies.” Then she left them, calling “Ta-tah, dahlings!”

The girls curled up on Julie’s bed to continue talking about their future plans. Sometimes Julie was sure that being a detective would be the perfect job for her, but other times she wanted to be an ecologist and save endangered species. Sometimes she wanted to become a mayor or a senator—maybe even run for president someday. “Sooner or later,” she told Carla, “America will have a woman president. So why shouldn’t it be me?”

“It would be cool to live in the White House,” Carla said. “Although it feels like our new house is nearly that big!”

If only she and Mom and Tracy still lived in a house—just big enough to have a border collie, Julie thought fleetingly. Carla was lucky.

Mrs. Albright came home, and Julie introduced her new friend.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Mom asked Carla.

“Oh, please stay!” cried Julie, but Carla shook her head.

“I have to get home,” she said. “To help with the baby, and everything.”

Tracy popped out of her bedroom and grabbed her mom’s arm. “I’ll drive her! Okay, Mom? Can I drive her? May I?”

“Hmmm,” said Mrs. Albright, considering. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then winked at Julie and Carla. “Do you think if we ask Tracy very, very politely, she might possibly consider driving Carla home?” Her voice was teasing. Tracy gave a yelp of assent and hugged her mother. Then, beaming, she hurried to get the car keys.

“Oh, good,” said Julie. “I’m coming too!” She wanted to see Carla’s painted lady house.

But Carla was shaking her head. “No, that’s okay,” she said. “It’s not far, really. I really should walk—I need the exercise.” She grabbed her book bag and headed across the living room.

“But it’s getting dark,” objected Mrs. Albright. “And it looks like rain again.”

“Really, I’ll be fine,” Carla insisted.

“Well, come over again soon,” begged Julie. “We can play spies! Or else bring your dog and we’ll go for a walk—”

“I will,” promised Carla. “Thanks for having me. See you again soon!” She was out the apartment door and down the stairs before Julie could say another word.

Tracy sighed. “Guess she doesn’t trust my driving either,” she said glumly. “Nobody does.”

“Now, Tracy dear, you know I trust you,” said Mrs. Albright. “You did just fine getting the groceries, and didn’t I just give you permission to drive her home?”

“Yes, but—”

“Mom,” interrupted Julie, “can’t we move into a bigger house so that I can get a border collie? Please?”