Read Online Kristy and the Snobs by Ann M. Martin - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann M. Martin
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liked a messy playroom, I not only agreed with her, I added to the mess."
"I wonder why that made her clean it up?" I said slowly.
"Well, actually," Stacey answered, "I think two things were going on then. First of all, the Snobs like to be contrary, which I was counting on - that was the psychology part -
but second, I think I did sort of weird them out. I was like Mary Poppins gone crazy, and they just wanted some normalcy. So cleaning up the playroom seemed a lot more normal than letting me do what I was doing."
I nodded.
"But later," said Stacey, "something else happened which I hadn't planned on at all. I realized that Max thought I was accusing him of being a baby. You know, by hinting that he wasn't able to mop up his spill or do other things by himself. Then I used that against both him and Amanda and it seemed pretty effective. No kid likes to think that anyone else thinks he or she is a baby."
"Pretty smart, Stace," I said. "I hope I can remember all this tomorrow."
I was going to sit at the Snobs' the next day, and I intended to be prepared for anything and anyone - fires, emergencies, Shannon, and especially the Snobs' behavior.
As I crossed the street to the Delaneys' the next afternoon, I kept repeating to myself, "Go along with everything they say, and take it one step further." It sounded easy enough, but I knew I'd have to think quickly.
Mrs. Delaney left as soon as I arrived, and I found myself facing the Snobs again. Well,
not exactly facing them, since Amanda was up in her room and Max was out in the garage, but you know what I mean.
Amanda was in her room because she had been assigned to re-work some math problems that her teacher thought she could do a better job on. As soon as she saw me in her doorway, she said, "Kristy, come here. Do this problem for me. I hate fractions."
"Sure," I replied, "It's unfortunate that I'm so bad at fractions, though. I mean, I like them and everything, but I always make mistakes. Oh, well. Here. Give me your book." I held out my hand.
"That's okay," said Amanda, hugging her math book to her chest. "I'll do it myself. No problem."
"No problem!" I cried. "Hey, that's a pretty good pun. Problem? As in math problem? Get it?"
Amanda managed a smile.
"Come downstairs when you're finished," I told her. "Maybe we could play Snail. Stacey taught me the game, and she said she taught you, too."
I went to the garage to see what Max was up to. I found him swinging back and forth on a rope that had been tied to a beam in the eaves. He was singing, "Oh, I've never, never,
never in my long-legged life seen a long-legged sailor with his long-legged wife!"
I giggled. "Where'd you learn that song?" I asked him. "It's funny."
"Our music teacher taught it to us today," he replied, slowing down. "He taught us another song, too. About a cat. But I don't un derstand something. What kind of cat is a hysle cat?"
I frowned. "I don't know. Why don't you sing me the song? Maybe we can figure it out."
Max sang three verses of the song. Each time he came to the chorus, he would sing, "My hysle cat, my hysle cat," and touch his head the way his music teacher had shown the class.
In the middle of the fourth verse, I began to laugh. "Max!" I exclaimed. "This isn't a song about a cat. It's a song about a hat. Try saying, 'My high silk hat' instead of, 'My hysle cat.' "
"What? . . . Oh!" Suddenly Max understood. He began to laugh, too. Then he jumped off the swing and ran around the garage singing, "My hysle cat! My high silk hat!"
"What are you guys doing?" a voice demanded.
Amanda was standing in the doorway to the garage.
"Oh, sorry," I said. "Are we being too loud?"
"No," replied Amanda crossly. "I'm done with my homework. Now Max and I want a snack. Right, Max?"
"Right," he replied, even though I'm sure he had been thinking about hats and cats, not snacks, before his sister showed up.
"Fix us a snack, Kristy," Amanda demanded.
"Okay," I said. "But from your tone of voice,
"I wonder why that made her clean it up?" I said slowly.
"Well, actually," Stacey answered, "I think two things were going on then. First of all, the Snobs like to be contrary, which I was counting on - that was the psychology part -
but second, I think I did sort of weird them out. I was like Mary Poppins gone crazy, and they just wanted some normalcy. So cleaning up the playroom seemed a lot more normal than letting me do what I was doing."
I nodded.
"But later," said Stacey, "something else happened which I hadn't planned on at all. I realized that Max thought I was accusing him of being a baby. You know, by hinting that he wasn't able to mop up his spill or do other things by himself. Then I used that against both him and Amanda and it seemed pretty effective. No kid likes to think that anyone else thinks he or she is a baby."
"Pretty smart, Stace," I said. "I hope I can remember all this tomorrow."
I was going to sit at the Snobs' the next day, and I intended to be prepared for anything and anyone - fires, emergencies, Shannon, and especially the Snobs' behavior.
As I crossed the street to the Delaneys' the next afternoon, I kept repeating to myself, "Go along with everything they say, and take it one step further." It sounded easy enough, but I knew I'd have to think quickly.
Mrs. Delaney left as soon as I arrived, and I found myself facing the Snobs again. Well,
not exactly facing them, since Amanda was up in her room and Max was out in the garage, but you know what I mean.
Amanda was in her room because she had been assigned to re-work some math problems that her teacher thought she could do a better job on. As soon as she saw me in her doorway, she said, "Kristy, come here. Do this problem for me. I hate fractions."
"Sure," I replied, "It's unfortunate that I'm so bad at fractions, though. I mean, I like them and everything, but I always make mistakes. Oh, well. Here. Give me your book." I held out my hand.
"That's okay," said Amanda, hugging her math book to her chest. "I'll do it myself. No problem."
"No problem!" I cried. "Hey, that's a pretty good pun. Problem? As in math problem? Get it?"
Amanda managed a smile.
"Come downstairs when you're finished," I told her. "Maybe we could play Snail. Stacey taught me the game, and she said she taught you, too."
I went to the garage to see what Max was up to. I found him swinging back and forth on a rope that had been tied to a beam in the eaves. He was singing, "Oh, I've never, never,
never in my long-legged life seen a long-legged sailor with his long-legged wife!"
I giggled. "Where'd you learn that song?" I asked him. "It's funny."
"Our music teacher taught it to us today," he replied, slowing down. "He taught us another song, too. About a cat. But I don't un derstand something. What kind of cat is a hysle cat?"
I frowned. "I don't know. Why don't you sing me the song? Maybe we can figure it out."
Max sang three verses of the song. Each time he came to the chorus, he would sing, "My hysle cat, my hysle cat," and touch his head the way his music teacher had shown the class.
In the middle of the fourth verse, I began to laugh. "Max!" I exclaimed. "This isn't a song about a cat. It's a song about a hat. Try saying, 'My high silk hat' instead of, 'My hysle cat.' "
"What? . . . Oh!" Suddenly Max understood. He began to laugh, too. Then he jumped off the swing and ran around the garage singing, "My hysle cat! My high silk hat!"
"What are you guys doing?" a voice demanded.
Amanda was standing in the doorway to the garage.
"Oh, sorry," I said. "Are we being too loud?"
"No," replied Amanda crossly. "I'm done with my homework. Now Max and I want a snack. Right, Max?"
"Right," he replied, even though I'm sure he had been thinking about hats and cats, not snacks, before his sister showed up.
"Fix us a snack, Kristy," Amanda demanded.
"Okay," I said. "But from your tone of voice,
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