Free The Banana Split Affair by Cynthia Blair Page A

acted.
    As she placed the last knife .next to her sister’s plate, the telephone rang in the kitchen. She listened to her mother’s voice mumbling intelligibly into the receiver.
    “Susan,” her mother called in, sticking her head out of the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, “it’s for you. That is, it’s someone who wants to speak to Chris.” Mrs. Pratt then diplomatically disappeared into the living room to give her daughter privacy.
    “Hello?” Susan said, wondering which of Chris’s countless friends and admirers was calling,
    “Hi, is this Chris Pratt?”
    “Yes. Who is this, please?” Susan didn’t recognize the male voice at the other end of the line. But then again, one thing she had learned at school that day was that the circles that she and her twin traveled in were so different that she hardly knew any of the same people as Chris.
    “This is Jason. Jason Simms. Remember? The car accident?”
    “Of course I remember. It’s not every day that I’m the witness to a car crash!”
    “Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that! Otherwise I might think you were some kind of jinx or something!” In a more serious tone he said, “You know, you accidentally left your schoolbooks in my cat And there was so much confusion with the police and that terrible man who ran into me that I just drove off with them without even thinking. Anyway, is it okay if I stop by and drop them off?”
    “Sure. That’d be great.”
    “Okay. It’s the least I could do for someone who was willing to step forward and bail me out. I’ve got your address, and I have a general idea of where it is. So I’ll come by right after dinner. How about eight o’clock?”
    By the time she hung up, Susan’s bad mood had lifted. She felt strangely euphoric, as if someone had just told her the best news in the world. She was glad she’d get her books back so promptly and that she didn’t have to go through the hassle of tracking Jason down. But more than that, she was excited over the prospect of seeing Jason again.
    “You’re being silly!” she scolded herself as she ran upstairs to wash her face and comb her back. “Jason Simms is only interested in you as the witness to his car accident. Nothing more!”
    Nevertheless, she put on her makeup with extra care and made sure she doused herself with a light, flowery cologne before he came over.
    * * * *
    Susan was fidgety all through dinner.
    “What in the world is wrong with you, my dear sister?” Chris pretended to complain. “Do you have ants in your pants? You’re acting as if you’re about to go skydiving for the very first time in your entire life.”
    “Maybe I am,” Susan returned with a mysterious smile. “Or maybe I’m just in a good mood today.”
    “That reminds me,” their father said. “How did it go today? Did you two masters of disguise—or should I say ‘mistresses of disguise’?—manage to convince everyone at school that Chris was Susan and Susan was Chris?”
    “You bet!” they both exclaimed. The twins began an enthusiastic review of the events of the day, laughing and interrupting each other as they shared both the humorous and the nerve-racking experiences with their parents. Susan, of course, made no mention of Jason Simms, the car accident, or the way in which she had used her sister’s name.
    When Chris and Susan went into the kitchen together to put the dishes into the sink, Susan said in what she hoped was a casual voice, “Don’t forget, sis. Once we’re alone, I want to hear all about what happened today in art class.”
    Chris remained silent. She had intended to repeat every word of the conversation she had had with Keith West to her sister, of course, but now that she was faced with actually having to do it, she felt strange. It was almost as if the time she had spent with him was special to her in some way, and to talk about it, to share it with someone else, would be like telling a secret that she had sworn to