Chicken Pox Panic, the Read Free Page A

allowance to buy another roast. And some ice cream,” Abby said. Then she remembered Shawn’s birthday surprise.Buying ice cream and a pot roast would use up all her savings.
    Phooey! So much for the greatest cake in the world , she thought.
    Abby hurried home to get her money. There was a huge lump in her throat.

SEVEN
    It was starting to snow.
    Abby hopped on her bike and headed for the grocery store. Snowflakes tickled her face.
    She pedalled hard, thinking about the cake that could’ve been.
    Now Shawn would never get his birthday cake. All because of the stupid detective stuff!
    At the store, Abby found a roast. It looked like the one Sunday Funnies had torn open. She found the same brand of chocolate ice cream. She paid for it with every cent she had.
    Pushing sad thoughts away, she headed for Stacy’s. At last, she rang the doorbell.
    â€œCome in!” called Stacy. “I’m in the bathroom giving my dog a bath. He’s a chocolatey mess.”
    â€œI have another pot roast and some ice cream,” Abby said. “Your mom will never have to know.”
    â€œThanks,” yelled Stacy. “Sorry about the money.”
    â€œIt’s my own dumb fault” Abby said. She went into the bathroom.
    â€œNo it isn’t,” Stacy said. She rubbed more soap on the puppy’s head. “We were in it together.”
    â€œI’ve been thinking,” Abby said. “It doesn’t matter if you’re adopted. Look how much your parents love you.”
    â€œI know that,” said Stacy. “It’s not so much being adopted . . . if I am. I just wish my parents had told me.” Stacy sighed. “Your brothers, Shawn and Jimmy, know all about their adoption.”
    â€œThey were older when it happened,” Abby said. She heard the garage door open.“Sounds like your mom’s home,” she said. “I better leave.”
    â€œNo, wait,” said Stacy. “I’ve got an idea.”
    â€œWhat?” Abby pulled a towel off the rack and handed it to Stacy.
    â€œI’m going to ask my mother some questions. And I want you to listen.” Stacy drained the dirty bath water.
    There were footsteps in the hallway. “Stacy, I’m home,” said her mother.
    â€œComing!” called Stacy. She lifted Sunday Funnies out of the tub.
    Abby helped dry him.
    â€œFollow me,” Stacy said.
    Abby followed her friend to the kitchen.
    Stacy pulled a sheet of paper out of a drawer. She sat down at the table. Abby did, too.
    Stacy took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you, Mom.”
    â€œSure, honey. What’s up?”
    Stacy shot a nervous look at Abby. “What happened on the day I was born?”
    â€œWhat do you mean, dear?” her mother asked.
    â€œI need to know for my homework,” Stacy said. “Were you there?”
    Stacy’s mother looked at her. She set the dishes on the counter. “Of course I was.”
    â€œHow soon did you see me?” Stacy asked.
    â€œA few hours after you were born.”
    Stacy laughed. “A few hours? That’s a long time to wait, don’t you think?”
    Her mother opened a drawer and took out a spoon. “Why do you ask?”
    Abby looked at Stacy. She held her breath.
    Stacy stood up. “What happened to my birth certificate?”
    â€œI really don’t know,” her mother said. “But we need to set the table now.”
    â€œDid you take any pictures of me when I was born?” Stacy asked.
    Mrs. Henry pushed her hair back. She sighed. “I think your father did.”
    Stacy wrote something on her paper. “Does he still have them?”
    â€œIt’s late now, Stacy. You know how sloppy I am at keeping records sometimes. Can we please talk about this later?” her mother said.
    Abby stood up. “I better go home now. See you tomorrow, Stacy.”
    Stacy scrunched up her face. “OK, Abby.”
    Abby felt funny.