The Banana Split Affair Read Online Free PDF Page A

all over my clothes.”
    “Baby powder! What on earth were you doing with baby powder?”
    Susan was about to stutter out an answer when Chris interrupted. “She didn’t have time to wash her hair before dinner, so she brushed baby powder through it. You know, like a dry shampoo.”
    “Oh.” Mrs. Pratt continued to look puzzled. “But aren’t you going to wash your hair later?”
    Susan blurted out her response. “Yes, but in the meantime, it felt dirty. And, well, you know how I feel about eating dinner with dirty hair.”
    Mrs. Pratt glanced at her quizzically. “I’ve never heard of that one, Chris. This must be a new obsession of yours. Like when you were thirteen and would wear only the color white because you’d read in some magazine that girls with dark hair looked best in pale colors.”
    “That’s Chris for you,” the real Chris mumbled, pretending to be absorbed in picking up stray pieces of rice from her plate with her fork.
    Mrs. Pratt then looked at her other daughter. A frown crossed her face. “Come to think of it, Susan, weren’t you wearing something else before, too?”
    “Well, yeah, but I spilled paint on my other clothes.”
    “My goodness! What is this, a contest to see which twin can create the most laundry?”
    “Oh, you know what klutzes sixteen-year-old girls can be,” Chris said offhandedly. “Always dropping things, spilling stuff all over the place ... Must be growing pains.” She couldn’t resist catching Susan’s eye and grinning.
    Their mother shook her head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. Especially with you two. Must be some new phase you’re going through. Chris, would you please pass the gravy?”
    Susan continued eating, ignoring her mother’s request.
    “Chris, hon, the gravy?”
    No response.
    “Christine,” Mr. Pratt said, “would you please come down from Cloud Nine long enough to pass the gravy to your mother? Or is living on another planet also part of these mysterious ‘growing pains’ that seem to have overtaken my daughters all of a sudden?”
    Susan finally looked up. “What?”
    “Oh, here, I’ll pass the gravy.” Chris came to the rescue. She kicked her twin under the table. “Christine,” she said, “would you please pay attention? People are going to start wondering what’s wrong with you.”
    “Sorry. I guess I was thinking about my painting.”
    “What painting?” both parents chorused.
    Another kick under the table. “What Chris means,” the real Chris said through clenched teeth, “is that she’s decided to try her hand at watercolors. I’m going to teach her.” She glared at her sister Susan looked back apologetically.
    “I think that’s a tremendous idea.” Their father smiled as he helped himself to more string beans. “Susan is such an accomplished artist that it’d be great if she’d share some of that ability with Chris.”
    Chris smiled. “I have a feeling Chris’ll be a fast learner. I don’t know why; it’s just a gut reaction.”
    “Giving art lessons is fine,” Mrs. Pratt said, “just-as long as everyone gets her homework done first. That reminds me—don’t you have a history test tomorrow, Chris? I don’t mean to nag, but you know history isn’t exactly your best subject.”
    “I’m ready for this exam, though,” Susan-as-Chris assured her. “I bet I’ll even get an A.”
    Her father looked doubtful. “That’d be fine, Chris, but don’t set your goals too high. The pressure will make it that much tougher. Besides, haven’t you been doing B and C work in history all along? I don’t want you to be too disappointed.”
    “I’ve got a C average right now.” Susan-as-Chris grinned. “But trust me. I know this stuff cold. I can practically guarantee that I’ll get an A.”
    “It’s good to think positively, Chris,” Mrs. Pratt said gently, “but ...”
    “I’ve been coached by Susan,” Susan explained. “And you know that history is one of her best