Ann Martin - Stacey And The Mystery Of Stoneybrook

If I were her. . . . Suddenly I had a brainstorm. Maybe taking just a teaspoon full of nasty medicine wouldn't seem all that terrible if she could see what I had-to go through every day, just to stay healthy. It just might work.

"Charlotte, you know I have diabetes, right?" I knew she knew, because I've dis-

cussed my diabetes with Dr. Johanssen, in front of Charlotte.

Charlotte kind of grunted, but she didn't budge from her "nest" in the couch.

"Want me to show you the medicine I have to take?" I asked. "We'll forget about yours for now."

That got her moving. She followed me upstairs and I opened the desk drawer where I keep all my equipment. I tried to explain a little bit about diabetes and why it makes me sick and how insulin helps to keep it in check. I'm not sure how well she followed me. She'd probably never heard of a "pancreas" before.

"I didn't used to have to do this, but since I haven't been feeling too well lately, now I have to check my glucose level a few times a day," I said. "All I do is prick my finger, like this — "

Charlotte gasped as I pricked my finger and squeezed out a tiny drop of blood. I wiped it onto something called a test strip and put the strip into a little machine. In a minute the number came up. 110. That was just about normal for me at this time of day. Charlotte was fascinated.

"Knowing what my number is helps me

make sure to take the right amount of insulin. When I'm ready to take my insulin, I load up this syringe and give myself a shot." I wasn't going to show her how I did that. It might really scare her.

The shots don't hurt me anymore — I'm so used to them by now. But to someone else, especially someone Charlotte's age, it might be frightening.

I told her some more about what it meant to be a diabetic. Like how this was something I'd have to deal with every day for the rest of my life. And how I had to be extremely careful about what I ate, and why. Charlotte's eyes got rounder and rounder. She'd had no idea of what I went through just to control my illness.

"Shots every single day? Oh, Stacey, you're so brave," she said when I'd finished explaining everything.

"Not really, Charlotte. This is just how things are for me. I don't have any choice in the matter," I said. "Anyway, it feels good to take care of myself."

Well, after all that, it was no trick at all to get Charlotte to take her medicine. She barely made a face as she swallowed it down.

"Good girl," I said. "Now, let's get you into bed."

She changed into her pajamas while I put a clean pillowcase on her pillow. I always think it feels good to have a fresh pillowcase to rest your head on when you're sick. I also set up her room for the day. I brought in our little portable TV and stocked the shelves with more games, drawing paper and crayons, and books.

While Charlotte got settled into bed, I went down to the kitchen to make her a snack. I set up a tray with that ice-cream soda I'd promised her. When I'm sick, my mom always puts a flower in a little vase on my dinner tray, so I did that, too. Charlotte deserved to be spoiled a little; just think, she'd been getting sick all that time and nobody had paid attention to her complaints. I got myself a glass of ice water and took the tray upstairs.

Charlotte and I spent the whole day in her room, playing every game I had. Yes, that does include War, if you're wondering. We also watched TV and I read to her for awhile before she dropped off for a nap. While she slept, I just stayed in the room and read to myself. It was a peaceful afternoon.

That night, Charlotte called her parents. She wanted to let them know that she was sick but getting better. She also wanted to check on her grandfather. She talked to her mom for

just a few minutes, and by the end of the call she was beaming. Her grandpa's operation had gone very well and he was feeling much better. The Johanssens would be back home on Thursday, just as they'd planned. Charlotte was definitely on the road to recovery.

Chapter 8.

By Sunday morning, Charlotte was feeling much better. Penicillin does work fast. It hadn't been easy getting her to take her medicine on schedule — she still hated it — but at least she had taken most of it.

Charlotte came downstairs for breakfast, and Mom made special sugar-free blueberry pancakes. Yum. I love them because they're so good on their own that I don't even miss being able to have maple syrup. Charlotte ate a big stack of them. She was definitely better.

But Dr. Dellenkamp had said that even if she was feeling all right, Charlotte should take it easy on Sunday and Monday. She wasn't supposed to go to school until Tuesday.

Tuesday seemed a long way off. I was sick of playing War, sick of being Professor Plum in Clue, and very sick of TV. I was even sick of reading Charlotte's Web.

What were we going to do all day? I think

Charlotte was just as tired as I was of being cooped up, especially now that she was feeling more normal.

Then I remembered that Kristy had called on Saturday to tell me about some map she'd found on Friday night. Maybe she could come over and bring the map, along with some of those old books of Watson's. Kristy had said she really hadn't found much in the books, but maybe if we went through them all, we'd come up with something. It would be fun to play detective, anyway. I called Kristy up.

"Kristy, it's Stace. What're you doing today?"

"I've got no plans," she said. "I don't even have to watch the kids, since Mom and Watson took them to the mall to shop for shoes."

"How about bringing over that old map and the books?" I said. "Charlotte's home sick, here, and we'd love to look at them."

"Great," said Kristy. "Hold on, let me see if Nannie can drive me over."

The arrangements were made. While we waited for Kristy, Charlotte and I washed the breakfast dishes. Then she took her medicine without fussing too much. Finally we settled in on the front steps (Charlotte had felt good enough to get dressed that morning) and waited for Kristy to show up. While we

waited, we talked about the old house.

"I'm glad we were together when we heard those noises, Stacey," said Charlotte. "That was scary. But you know, I feel like there's something interesting about that house. I hope we can find out more about it."

I told her a little about the map Kristy had found, but not too much. I thought that the idea of burial grounds might be a little too much for Charlotte, but she seemed fascinated.

By the time Kristy got out of the Pink Clinker (Nannie's old car) in front of our house, Charlotte's excitement was at an all-time high.

"Where are the books, Kristy?" she asked, without even saying hello. She would have dived into the backseat and hauled out the box if I hadn't stopped her.

"Easy, Charlotte. You're still sick, remember?" I said. "I know you love mysteries, but let's take our time. We've got all day."

Charlotte does love mysteries, and I have to say that she's a pretty good sleuth. She played a big part in solving the mystery of an old diary that Mallory had found in a trunk in our attic. That mystery had led us to find the portrait of a beautiful woman, which now hung over our fireplace. Back then, we thought my house might be haunted, but that was nothing

compared to what we were facing now.

We brought the box of books inside and spread ourselves out in the living room. We each took a book and began to read. After awhile we traded books and read some more. Kristy had been right. There wasn't much in them. They were interesting, but we couldn't see any clues to the mystery of the old house.