Free Anastasia on Her Own by Lois Lowry Page B

old!" he said.
    "He is
not.
I watch
Wuthering Heights
every time they show it on TV, and Laurence Olivier is just the right age for passion."
    "Anastasia, they made that movie
years
ago. That movie's almost as old as I am!"
    "It
is?
" Anastasia asked angrily. "Oh, RATS! That's
cheating!
Now I have to get a whole new fantasy!"
    Her father yawned and tapped the ashes from his pipe into the ashtray. "Do me a favor, Anastasia," he said. "Wait till next week. I think we have enough to handle right now."

7

    On Thursday morning Anastasia realized that her father, despite his insistence that he was no longer upset about the coming evening with Annie, was actually very, very nervous. Panic-stricken, in fact. Anastasia had never seen her father panic-stricken before. Always, in the midst of dire emergencies and horrendous catastrophes, her father had remained calm.
    When Sam had fallen out of the second-story window—right on his head—last summer, her father had not only called the ambulance but had also ridden in it with Sam to the hospital.
    When Anastasia's eleven gerbils had escaped from their cage and disappeared all over the house, her father had just chuckled and helped Anastasia and Sam collect the wiggling little rodents and return them to captivity.
    When a water pipe had burst in their basement, sending a geyser as big as Old Faithful right across the Ping-Pong table with such force that it knocked over the net, her father had simply gone to the telephone very calmly and called the plumber.
    But now, on Thursday morning, her father came down to the kitchen with shaving cream on his neck. When Sam pointed it out, Dr. Krupnik looked startled, and went back up to the bathroom to finish shaving.
    When he reappeared, he was in his stocking feet.
    "Dad, where are your shoes?" Anastasia asked.
    "Shoes?" her father said, and looked at his feet. "Oh yes, shoes." And he went back upstairs to find his shoes.
    When the telephone rang, Dr. Krupnik jumped as if he had heard a shot. "You answer it, Anastasia," he said in a nervous voice.
    Anastasia was already up from the table. "Hello," she said, and then listened to the salesman on the other end. "Just a minute," she said.
    "Dad? Are you interested in taking tap-dancing lessons? It's a special discount offer. The first lesson's absolutely free."
    "Taking what? Tap-dancing lessons? I don't know. Maybe. I guess—well, no, I don't think so. But I can't decide." Her father stared at her.
    "I don't think you are. You hate dancing," Anastasia pointed out.
    "Yes, right. I hate dancing," her father said in the same confused voice.
    "I like to dance," said Sam, and he twirled around the kitchen. "But I don't want to take dancing lessons. I want to take karate lessons."
    "Maybe
I
should take tap-dancing lessons," Anastasia said. She tried tap-dancing across the floor, but her hiking boots were too heavy, and one was untied. She tripped and stumbled against the refrigerator. Rubbing her bruised hip, she went back to the phone.
    "Would you call back later?" she asked politely. "I can't decide right now."
    Her father stood up, put on his coat, and started out the door. "I have to go," he said. "I'm teaching a class at nine. I'm giving a quiz on—"
    He stood still, and thought. "I'm giving a quiz on something," he said. "I can't remember what."
    Anastasia and Sam stared as he went out without saying good-bye. They watched through the window as he went to the garage, turned, and came back.
    He laughed apologetically when he reappeared in the kitchen. "Forgot my briefcase," he said, and picked up the pile of schoolbooks that Meredith and Sonya had brought the afternoon before.
    Anastasia stopped him in the open door. She took her math and history books gently from his arm and replaced them with his briefcase. He left again, and after a moment they saw the car back out, spewing smoke, and then disappear down the street.
    "Daddy's weird today," Sam said. "Can I make a salad bar out of my