AMBER BROWN
IS FEELING BLUE
Paula Danziger
AMBER BROWN
IS FEELING BLUE
Illustrated by Tony Ross
PUFFIN BOOKS
An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Text copyright © 1998 by Paula Danziger.
Illustrations copyright © 1998 by Tony Ross.
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may not be reproduced in any form without permission
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Published simultaneously in Canada.
Lettering by David Gatti.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Danziger, Paula, 1944-Amber Brown is feeling blue /
Paula Danziger: illustrated by Tony Ross. p. cm.
Summary: Nine-year-old Amber Brown faces further
complications because of her parents’ divorce when her father
plans to move back from Paris and she must decide which parent
she will be with on Thanksgiving. [1. Divorce—Fiction.
2. Parent and child—Fiction.] I. Ross, Tony, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.D2394A1h 1998 [Fic]—dc21 98-11233 CIP AC
ISBN: 978-1-101-65718-8
For Mae Siegel—
a wonderful aunt
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter
One
“Ta-da, dinner is served.” Brenda, my Amber-sitter, comes into the living room. This week her hair is lime green and spiky.
I am lying down on the floor, doing my homework.
Brenda claps her hands. “Tonight I have made an amazing meal. I call it ‘Mischief Night Delight.’”
If she thinks that this meal is amazing, that makes me more than a little nervous. Brenda thought it was perfectly normal when she made “Tuna Fish Delish.” That had little chunks of celery and marshmallows in it.
I look up at Brenda.
She’s wearing shocking-pink tights with a huge T-shirt, one that says PLAYS WELL WITH OTHERS. Mom and I gave it to her for her birthday last month.
I, Amber Brown, picked out the T-shirt.
I’m wearing the one my mom bought for me to wear when Brenda comes over to Amber-sit. Mine says NEEDS SUPERVISION.
Sometimes my mom thinks that she’s very funny.
I get up, and we go into the kitchen.
Brenda has the table all set. “It’s the Mischief Night menu.”
I look at the table. In the center, there is chili made with ground meat. In the middle of the meat, on top, she has placed two gumballs, which look like eyes.
Avocado halves are filled with green Jell-O.
She’s even used the plastic pumpkin that my mom will fill tomorrow with the candy that we’re giving out for Halloween. It’s filled with cauliflower.
“It looks like the pumpkin’s brains. Isn’t that cool?” Brenda looks pleased with herself.
The cauliflower is steaming and looks very squishy, and there’s tomato sauce poured over it to look like blood.
“Yum,” Brenda says.
I just look at it.
“Yum,” Brenda repeats.
Brenda pretends to be the waiter and pulls out my chair.
I sit down.
She pretends to read from a menu, even though it is actually a serving spoon. “What would you like to order from our liquid list? Our milk is a very good year.”
I laugh.
Whenever I see someone in a movie ordering wine, the waiter always says things like “This is a very good year.”
Somehow I don’t think old milk would be too delicious.
“Actually, the milk is a very good week…this one,” Brenda says.
“Fine.” I look at the meal. “Then I will have a glass of milk. Which milk, do you think, goes better with this food? Chocolate? Vanilla?”
“Might I suggest the strawberry? It would look good with the orange of the pumpkin, the brown of the meat, the red of the pumpkin blood,” Brenda says, going over to the blender and putting in some milk and some strawberries.
We sit down to eat.
I stare at the meal but don’t eat anything.
“It won’t kill you. I promise.” Brenda starts eating. “Yum.”
Brenda said “Yum” the time she ate the tuna-and-marshmallow meal. THAT was definitely not a “Yum” meal.
I take a tiny taste of each thing.
It is an amazing meal. What is amazing is that it tastes good.
“So, what are you going to wear tomorrow for Halloween?” I ask.
Brenda smiles. “For Halloween, I’m going to dress ‘normal.’ I’m going to wear a wig that is a normal color and has a normal boring cut. And I’m going to wear one of my mother’s normal dresses and a pair of heels. That will be my costume.”
I tell her what I’m going to wear even though I’m keeping it a secret from everyone else. No one else will know until tomorrow.
“So,” she says, changing the subject, “when is your dad moving back here from Paris?
“In just two weeks.” I clap my hands. “I can’t wait.”
Brenda grins at me. “You are so excited. Tell me about your dad.” Because Brenda became my Amber-sitter after my parents divorced, after my dad moved to Paris, she’s never met him.
I describe my dad. “He’s not real skinny. He’s not real fat…. He’s got a real nice smile when he’s happy…. Sometimes he tells very corny jokes…. He’s losing his hair … only when I tell him that, he says that it’s not lost, that it’s just flown off in a hairplane.”
Brenda smiles. “He sounds funny.”
I nod. “He is … or, he was. I’ve only seen him twice since he moved to Paris … once in England … and a couple of weeks ago, when he came back to see about his new job … and to see ME. But we talk on the phone all the time, and he says that when he moves back, he’s going to spend a lot of time with me … he’s going to take me on trips, to the movies, to lots of places … and when he gets an apartment, it’s going to have two bedrooms so that I will always have a place to stay with him. And I can pick out all new furniture and decorate it the way I want.”
“Cool.” Brenda takes a sip of her strawberry milk. “You’re so lucky.”
I look at Brenda and think about how she has no father because he was killed in a car crash almost a year ago, before I knew her.
She looks sad.
I reach over and pat her on her hand. “When Dad moves back, I’m going to ask him if you can do some stuff with us … not as my Amber-sitter, but as my friend.”
Brenda puts her hand on top of mine. “If I had a sister, I’d want her to be just like you
.”
“Me too,” I say. “If I had a sister, I’d want her to be just like you.”
I pat her hand again and then stand up. “I’ve got to get something. I’ll be right back.”
Running up the stairs to my room, I open my closet door, and take a box off the top shelf.
I haven’t shown it to anyone else yet. It’s like it was my own little secret, my own little private special thing.
There’s no way I can show it to my mom.
I don’t think she’s going to like it.
There’s no way I can show it to Max, the guy my mom is going to marry.
I don’t think he’s going to like it either. I think he’s gotten used to being the only grown-up guy in my everyday life.
Rushing down the steps with it, I put the box on the table, and open it up.
Inside is the “Countdown to Dad” book, which I got in the mail last week.
My dad made it for me.
It’s made out of construction paper and has four pages.
The first is the cover. On it, he’s written “Countdown to Dad” and drawn lots of hearts.
The other three pages are made up to look like a weekly calendar, with numbered squares. The numbers go from twenty-one to zero. In each square is a picture of Dad and me. There’s also a tiny box where I can check off each day when it’s over. The first photo is of the day when he and Mom brought me home from the hospital when I was a baby. Mom took that picture (and most of the others). The rest of the pictures also show Dad and me together. As the countdown goes on, I get older and Dad gets balder. The next-to-last picture is labeled “One more day until I’m back and can hug my little girl.” It’s a picture that Aunt Pam took of my dad and me when we were in London. I have chicken-pox scabs on my face. The last picture is one that Brandi took of my dad and me at the bowling alley, when he was here to visit and work out moving back.
On the “Zero Square,” he’s written “Reunion” and he’s drawn more hearts.
Only fourteen more days to check off…. I can’t wait.
Chapter
Two
I, Amber Brown, have just seen a ghost.
Actually, I’ve just seen three ghosts.
Actually, I’ve just seen three ghosts, two werewolves, fourteen superheroes, five princesses, one devil, seven skeletons, six headless people, and a partridge in a pear tree.
I, Amber Brown, am dressed as a crayon and am handing out Halloween candy.
After school, my friend Brandi and I did our trick-or-treating, and I got three bags of stuff. So now I’m helping my mom hand out treats, and I’m still wearing my crayon costume, the one that I made all by myself.
When I was growing up, I hated my name, hated being teased about being the shade of a crayon, and I never would have dressed as a crayon.
Now that I’m in fourth grade, I, Amber Brown, am proud of my name.
It’s a very colorful name for a very colorful person…. That’s what my mom always tells me. I like having a unique name, one that no one else has. That’s why I made my costume.
I forget what I’m wearing and start to sit down on the sofa. It doesn’t work.
The only problem with being dressed as a crayon is that it is very hard to sit down and it’s a pain to keep taking it off so for the past four hours I’ve been standing. Actually, there is another problem about being dressed as a crayon, but I don’t want to talk about it because it has to do with trying to go to the bathroom.
I, Amber Brown, am one very tired crayon.
I’m also a very full crayon, having eaten lots of things from my own trick-or-treating and from what we’re giving away: candy corn, Tootsie Rolls, and Fruit Roll-Ups.
We’re also giving away some of the stuff that I got when I went trick-or-treating, things like granola bars and packages of trail mix.
The doorbell rings.
It’s someone dressed as a pizza man.
He’s wearing the uniform and a mask.
He’s also carrying a pizza box.
I, Amber Brown, can smell pizza, real pizza.
I know that smell a mile away.
Either the pizza man is carrying real hot pizza or he’s wearing a cologne that smells like pizza.
Maybe when I grow up that’s what I should give my friend Justin, who moved away ……. eau de pizza. Justin would probably like eau de pizza with pepperoni …. but without anchovies.
“TREAT…. NO TRICK,” the pizza man yells out.
I know that voice.
It’s Max.
My mom walks into the room.
She’s dressed as a Halloween pumpkin, wearing a huge orange sweatshirt with one of those paper-accordionlike pumpkins on her head. It’s a little embarrassing to see my own mother dressed like that, but at least she’s not wearing it outside, where my friends can see her.
“Now, that is what I call a treat.” She grins.
Max hands me the box of pizza and goes over to her.
They hug and kiss.
Then they look at each other and laugh.
Then they hug and kiss again.
“Cut the mush,” I yell.
They turn and look at me.
Max walks over, picks me up sideways, and pretends to be writing on the wall as if I really am a crayon.
“I LOVE YOU, SARAH AND AMBER,” he says, spelling out the words.
The way he moves me is making me a little sick …. especially at the O, the U, and the B. It’s either that or all the candy corn, the Tootsie Rolls, and the Fruit Roll-Ups …….. that, plus the fact that I haven’t gone to the bathroom since I’ve put the costume on.
Max puts me down.
I make sure that my costume is still OK.
Max and my mother make sure that their lips can still magnetize to each other’s.
It’s still a little weird to see Mom and Max kiss.
Even though my mom and my dad didn’t kiss very much when they were still married, at least not in front of me, it makes me a little embarrassed to see Mom and Max liplock.
I can feel myself blush.
Maybe on my crayon I should change the name of the color from Amber Brown to Cherry Red.
I go over to Mom and Max and step on their toes.
“TRICK OR TREAT,” I say, holding the pizza box.
Max grins. “I’m the one who should be saying ‘trick or treat.’ Just wait until I tell you what I have planned for us to do.”
Chapter
Three
I, Amber Brown, feel like a wax crayon that is beginning to melt.
I take off my costume and rush to the bathroom.
Life as a noncrayon is much easier than life as a crayon.
When I return, my mom is opening the pizza box.
“Yum,” she says.
Glup, I think.
I’m so full from all the candy that I’ve eaten, I bet I can’t eat a thing. It’s pizza with black olives.
I, Amber Brown, have developed a taste for black olives.
My stomach feels like there is a small place in it where the pizza can fit.
I quickly decide which piece has the most black olives on it and pick that one up.
I wonder what pizza with candy corn would taste like.
I take some out of my pocket and put it on my slice, hoping no one notices.
“Amber, I know that the food gets mixed up in your stomach, but the candy corn on your pizza looks repulsive.” My mom shakes her head.
“Thank you,” I say, licking the cheese off one of the corns and putting some of the candy on the table. “It’s a new recipe. Try it.”
Max puts a few pieces on his slice.
My mother makes a face and doesn’t try it.
“I just spoke to Alice,” Max says.
“How is she?” my mom asks.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“Alice is my sister.” Max takes a bite of his pizza and says, “Amber, honey, I don’t think that candy corn is going to catch on as a new topping.”
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Alice. She’s the person who changed my life and my mom’s life. When she worked with Mom, she introduced her to Max, and then she moved away. I don’t think that she moved because she was nervous about what if they didn’t like each other and blamed her. But I don’t know for sure, because she moved away while I was in England with my Aunt Pam.
Max continues, “She’s not very happy now. She and Bob broke up, and she really doesn’t know many people in Walla Walla, and she doesn’t like her job.”
Walla Walla. I wonder if anyone can say the name of that place without smiling. Walla Walla.
“She’d love to leave,” Max continues, “but Jade’s just gotten used to the move and her new school. So she’s going to stay until the end of the school year. She can save up some money and decide then. She didn’t want me to help out with the move right now.”
I wonder what Max’s plan is, what the treat is going to be. I also wonder if all of this talk about Alice, Jade, and Walla Walla has anything to do with Max’s treat. Mom is always telling me that I have to learn to be patient and listen and wait. So I, Amber Brown, am trying to be patient and listen and wait. That’s not always easy.
I think about how Jade’s name is also a color.
Then I think about how no one else should have been given the name of a color after I was born.
I, Amber Brown, really like being original.
At least Jade doesn’t have two names that are each a color and together make still another color.
Max and Mom start talking about how neither of them ever liked Bob, whom Alice had dated for only about six months before they moved to Walla Walla.
I’m glad that Max and Mom didn’t do anything like that.
I’m glad that they’re waiting for a while to get married. I, Amber Brown, don’t think I can go through another breakup.
It was awful when my parents split up.
It would kill me if Mom and Max did split up ….. unless it means that when my dad moves back from Paris, my parents make up and get back together again.
I don’t think that’s going to happen, though, and if it did, it would probably be a disaster. And if my mom and dad did get back together, what would happen to Max? I can’t imagine not having him in my life.
Amber Brown Is Feeling Blue Page 1
