The Truth About Stacey Read Online Free PDF Page A

with my Kid-Kit, I rang the bell at Charlotte Johanssen’s house. Charlotte, who’s seven, is one of my favorite baby-sitting kids. Her mother is a doctor and her father is an engineer. Charlotte is an only child who’s very smart but is shy and doesn’t have many friends. I can sympathize when she gets lonely.
    Dr. Johanssen answered the door. “Hello, Stacey,” she said cheerfully, even though she looked quite tired. That Monday must have been one of her days off, because Dr. Johanssen is usually working at Stoneybrook General Hospital. Her schedule changes from month to month.
    â€œHi!” I replied.
    â€œHow have you been feeling?” Dr. Johanssen always asks me that. When anyone else asks,I get annoyed, but not with Charlotte’s mother.
    â€œHungry,” I said honestly. “And I’ve lost some weight.”
    â€œAny problems with your insulin or your blood sugar level?”
    â€œNope. I think I just need to eat more. After all, I am twelve.”
    â€œThat sounds sensible. What are you doing about the problem, though?”
    â€œMom called Dr. Frank today, but she hasn’t been able to talk to him yet. I guess she’ll know something by the time I get home.”
    â€œStacey! Hi, Stacey!” Charlotte bounced into the hallway, beaming. She’s always glad to see me.
    â€œHi, there,” I said.
    â€œWhat’s that box?”
    â€œSomething special. I’ll open it as soon as your mom leaves.”
    â€œMom, go, go!” cried Charlotte. She never wants her parents to leave, even when I’m the baby-sitter.
    â€œIs that a hint?” asked Dr. Johanssen, pulling on a sweater.
    â€œI think so,” I said.
    â€œAll right, girls. This meeting will be a quickie, I hope. I should be home between five and five-thirty.”
    â€œSee you later, Mom.” Charlotte practically pushed her mother out the door. “Now?” she asked me.
    â€œJust let me take my jacket off.” I hung it in the front hall closet while Charlotte hopped impatiently from one foot to the other. Then we sat down on the floor in the living room.
    â€œCan you read what this says?” I asked, pointing to the words on the lid.
    Charlotte leaned over for a better look. “‘KidKit,’ “ she said promptly. “It’s pretty.” I had covered my box with blue flowered fabric and glued white rickrack along the borders. Then I had cut the letters for “Kid-Kit” from green felt.
    â€œThanks. I’ll bring this with me every time I baby-sit.” I lifted the lid. “There’s all sorts of fun stuff in here. And I’ll change it once a month.”
    â€œOh, neat,” said Charlotte softly as she pulled the things out of the box. “Chutes and Ladders … Spill and Spell …
The Cricket in Times Square.
What’s this book about?”
    â€œOh, you’ll love it, I think. It’s about a cricket named Chester who accidentally winds up in the middle of New York City and makes friends with a mouse named Tucker, a cat named Harry, and a boy named Mario. We can read a little each time I baby-sit. And I can tell you about New York.”Charlotte loves to hear about when I lived in the city. “And after we finish that book, we can read
Tucker’s Countryside
and
Harry Cat’s Pet Puppy,
which are more stories about those animals.”
    â€œGoody.” Charlotte continued to look through the crayons and chalk and drawing paper, the jigsaw puzzle and Colorforms and jacks.
    â€œWe can do anything you want,” I said, “but even though I brought the Kid-Kit, I have one other idea.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWe could walk downtown. It’s such a beautiful day. We could look in the store windows and find out what’s playing at the movie theater, and maybe stop off at your school playground on the way home.”
    Charlotte looked as if someone were holding out two huge