The Truth About Stacey Read Online Free PDF Page B

and cream and raspberry fillingand roasted nuts and raisins and cherries and spun sugar. The air was heady and warm. It was almost more than I could stand. I tried to figure out how much it would hurt to have just one piece of white chocolate.
    â€œLook, Stacey!” Charlotte cried. She ran to a display of elaborate gingerbread houses decorated with candies and white frosting. “Oh, elves! And mice. Look at all the little creatures that live in those houses…. Oh!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the penny-candy counter. We were facing bin after bin of candy: butterscotch drops and Mary Janes and Gummi Bears and licorice sticks and peppermints….
    â€œPlease, Stacey, could we get just one thing?
One
thing each?” pleaded Charlotte.
    I noticed bite-size bars of white chocolate and thought I could actually
taste
one melting in my mouth.
    I felt in my pocket. I had two dollars, more than enough for two pieces of candy.
    â€œPlease?”
    I pulled the money out and put it on the counter. At that moment, Polly’s cuckoo clock chimed. It was four-thirty. Slowly, I put the money back in my pocket and let out my breath. I couldn’t believe what I’d almost done.
    â€œBetter not,” I said. “It’s too close to dinner. Your mom doesn’t like you eating sweets anyway.”
    â€œI know,” said Charlotte. “I just thought—”
    â€œIt’s okay. I wanted a treat, too, but you’re not the only one who’s not supposed to eat sweets. Come on, let’s go.”
    We left the store, Charlotte looking longingly over her shoulder. “Hey!” I said. “We have enough time to go to the playground before we head home.”
    â€œGoody!”
    It was growing dark, but I thought we could play safely for ten minutes. I felt cheered when we reached the school and saw a group of children hanging from the monkey bars. “Come on,” I said. But Charlotte had stopped in her tracks.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s okay. It’s not dark yet. And there are other kids here.”
    â€œNo. I want to go home. Let’s go.”
    Too late. The children had spotted Charlotte.
    â€œHey, there’s
Char
-Char,” cried one.
    â€œHey, teacher’s pet! Go away!”
    â€œYeah! Charlotte, Charlotte, go away, don’t come back another day!”
    â€œTeacher’s pet, teacher’s pet …”
    â€œI am not the teacher’s pet!”
shouted Charlotte. She turned and began running home.
    â€œHey! Wait up! Charlotte?” I caught up with her easily.
    â€œGo away.”
    â€œIt’s me, Stacey.”
    â€œI said go away.”
    â€œI can’t. I’m your baby-sitter. I have to stay with you.”
    Charlotte marched straight ahead, chin held high, tears dripping down her cheeks.
    â€œDid those kids tease you because they saw you with a baby-sitter? … Charlotte?” I tagged along at her side.
    â€œNo,” she said at last, sniffling. “They don’t know you’re my sitter.”
    â€œWhy are you mad at me?”
    Charlotte stopped walking. “I’m not mad at you.”
    â€œJust upset because they teased you?”
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œHow come they teased you?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œThey called you the teacher’s pet.”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about it.”
    â€œHey, listen, I got teased a
lot
last year.”
    â€œIn New York?”
    â€œIn New York.”
    â€œWho teased you?”
    â€œMy best friend. Well, she used to be my best friend. Now she’s my former best friend.”
    â€œWhy did she tease you?”
    â€œIt’s a long story.”
    â€œDon’t you want to talk about it, either?”
    â€œI guess not.”
    We were approaching the corner of Charlotte’s street. She had stopped crying and was holding my hand again. Suddenly, she squealed and pointed at something.