I,
AMBER BROWN
Paula Danziger
I,
AMBER BROWN
Illustrated by Tony Ross
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS NEW YORK
G.P. PUTNAM’S SONS
An imprint of Penguin Young Readers Group
Published by the Penguin Group
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Copyright © 1999 by Paula Danziger
Illustrations copyright © 1999 by Tony Ross
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Danziger , Paula, 1944– I, Amber Brown /
Danziger , Paula; illustrated by Tony Ross. p. cm.
Summary: Because her divorced parents share joint custody of her, nine-year-old Amber suffers from lack of self-esteem and feels that she is a piece of jointly-owned property.
[1. Self-esteem—Fiction. 2. Divorce—Fiction. 3. Parent and child—Fiction.]
I. Ross, Tony, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.D23941aam 1999
[Fic]—dc21 98-52884 CIP AC ISBN 0-399-23180-3
e-ISBN 978-1-101-65733-1
G. P. Putnam’s Sons, Reg. U.S. Pat & Tm. Off.
To Elizabeth Levy
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 Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter
One
…Only fourteen more days until Christmas.
…Only twelve more days until Christmas vacation.
…Only a few more minutes before I, Amber Brown, collapse from shopping exhaustion.
I, Amber Brown, am too pooped to pop.
“Too pooped to pop” is what I, Amber Brown, say when I am absolutely exhausted.
And I am totally exhausted…. but not quite ready to quit because I have to find a few more presents.
I, Amber Brown, am not only running out of energy….. I am running out of money.
It’s a good thing that I will be making some of my presents, but there is still one more that I need to find and buy.
“Amber, this bookstore, as much as I love bookstores, has got to be the last place we go today. I am shopped out. I am wiped out. I am just not used to this,” Max, my mom’s fiancé and my future stepdad, says.
I can tell that he is also too pooped to pop.
I smile at him. “Christmas shopping is almost done.”
“….. And your Hanukkah shopping too.” Max grins back.
I, Amber Brown, am used to Christmas shopping…now with Max in our lives, I’m going to be getting used to Hanukkah shopping too.
Hanukkah…that really added to my list…eight days of giving presents to Max…. and he’s going to give me eight days of presents too.
I, Amber Brown, could get used to this…. will get used to this because Max and Mom have decided that we will celebrate all of our holidays…. actually, I say celebrate…they say honor…. either way it’s a good deal, the way I see it.
Max’s presents are already hidden in my closet. I got those when I went out shopping with Mom the other day.
Now I’ve been getting presents for my mom and for some other people.
I got Christmas presents for my mom…and some Hanukkah ones too.
Max is going to bring a menorah over to our house…and every night that he’s visiting and it’s Hanukkah, we’re going to light the candles.
“Ouch,” Max says, as he drops a package on his foot. “Now my feet are really aching.”
“You only dropped it on one foot so stop complaining,” I tease him. “Anyway, it’s not like it’s bowling balls. It’s the soccer ball for Justin and the basketball for his little brother, Danny.”
“It’s going to be fun to wrap those presents.” Max laughs.
“Garbage bags,” I say. “Medium-sized green garbage bags tied with red ribbon and giant red bows…that’s how I’m going to do it. They’re boys…and boys don’t care about how a present is wrapped. I could wrap it in toilet paper, and they wouldn’t care.”
Max makes a face. “Well, that’s a generalization if I ever heard one. If I said something like that about girls…. you and your mom would nail me.”
I bite my lip. “Ooops, sorry, Max….. I guess I better ask you something. Does this mean that you care about how your presents are wrapped…. because if you do, this means I’m going to have to take the toilet paper off them and wrap them up again.”
There’s a funny look on his face like he’s not sure what to say.
I decide to take him out of his misery and tell him the truth.
After all, I’ve almost shopped him to death, he’s got a damaged foot, and he’s not used to holiday shopping with a fourth-grade girl.
So I say, “It’s a joke, Max…. I wrapped your presents normally.”
Max smiles. “Amber, I would love the presents wrapped any way because they came from you.”
“I was just joking though. I’m just a jokester sometimes,” I say, and then look over at a special table that says GIFTS FOR YOUR TEACHER.
Max pretends to frown about my being a jokester.
Over the loud speaker is the sound of Christmas music.
It’s “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”
I start to sing….. “You better watch out…. You better not pout….. Santa Claus is coming to town.”
Max joins in and sings along with me.
He actually sings in tune.
Some people are looking at us and smiling.
Some are laughing.
Some join in.
After the song is finished, Max grins at me. “You know, Amber…I think that this is going to be the best holiday of my life…. spending time with you and Sarah.”
I grin back. Now that I’m getting used to the fact that Mom and Max are going to get married, and that my Mom and Dad aren’t going to get back together again, I grin at Max a lot.
It’s like he’s been a part of my life for a long time, not just since I got back from visiting England last summer with my Aunt Pam…the trip when I didn’t get to go to Paris to see my dad because I got the chicken pox.
Then I think about my dad. I remember Christmases from when he and my mom were still married. Some of them were happy.
I’m glad that this is going to be the best Christmas of Max’s life…. for me, it’s going to be a little weird. With Dad just back from living in Paris, I’m worried that there are going to be some problems for me, just like there were at Thanksgiving. I know the deal is that I spend Christmas with my mom, but I also know that I’m going to be able to spend some time over the rest of the vacation with my dad. But since my dad doesn’t have his own place yet, I’ll be able to live at home and just visit with Dad…. unless he takes me into New York City like he di
d at Thanksgiving.
I, Amber Brown, am going to have to get used to all of this. Even though my parents haven’t lived together for a long time, this is just the beginning of their joint custody deal…. and sometimes the stuff that’s happening does not make me happy.
Max repeats, “This will be the best holiday of my life….. And I want it to be very special for you too…. Our first Hanukkah-Christmas together.”
I say, “Thanks,” and then I look over at the table.
There are a gazillion books there…and teacher mugs…and stationery…and bookmarks….. And then I see it…the perfect, perfect book for Mrs. Holt. It’s a guide to the twelve months of the year…holidays, special occasions, fun class projects.
I, Amber Brown, love this book, and I just know that Mrs. Holt is going to LOVE this book too.
“I hope that no one else gives this to her,” I say to Max. “And I hope that she loans it to me.”
Max puts down all of his packages and looks at the book with me. “This is a great choice…. there are activities…and recipes. This is terrific.”
I hug the book to me. “I just love facts like this.”
“Would you like a copy of this book for yourself?” Max asks.
“Even though I’m not a teacher? Oh yes, it’s so much fun. And each day we see each other, I’ll tell you the fact of the day.”
“Then I’ll get it for you,” Max says.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I smile at him again. “Is this going to be for a Christmas present or for a Hanukkah present? Because Hanukkah is sooner.”
“It’s for today…. December 11,” he says.
I look in the book. “On December 11, 1918, the first U.S. monument to an insect was dedicated in Alabama. It was to the boll weevil.”
“Well,” Max says, “that’s definitely a day to celebrate.”
When I, Amber Brown, get home, I’m going to immediately write to Justin, who moved to Alabama…and tell him this fact. It will definitely drive him buggy.
Justin Daniels…. This is going to be the first Christmas that he and I aren’t going to spend part of the day together.
This holiday is definitely going to be a time of firsts…. the first time that Max will be part of it, the first time that Justin and his family won’t be part of it, and the first time in two years that my father will be around for Christmas…and he won’t be part of it.
That’s definitely a lot of parts! And I just hope that those parts won’t be a whole lot of trouble……’Tis the season to be jolly…. I just hope that everyone keeps remembering that.
Chapter
Two
“Deck the halls with poison ivy,” I, Amber Brown, sing off-tune.
“Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.” My mom also sings off-tune.
Aunt Pam, my mom’s sister, says that none of us can carry a tune in a bucket.
Actually, I have never seen anyone carry a tune in a bucket.
“We fish you a Merry Christmas…we fish you a Merry Christmas.” My mom holds up a charm with a fish on it.
Maybe with that fish, even though we can’t carry a tune in a bucket, we can carry a tuna in a bucket.
I, Amber Brown, love to pun.
I also love to make presents for my friends for the holidays.
B…R…A…N…D…I
I pick out the beads to go between the letters…. and the charms to go on the bracelet…. a little dog charm that looks like her dog (except that there is no slobber coming out of the charm dog’s mouth)…. a nail polish bottle charm, to remind her of the time we painted our nails…and the dog’s nails too…
For my Aunt Pam, I make a name bracelet with the letters P…A…M…E…L…A. She’d have to have a miniature wrist if I only wrote P…A…M. I put charms on it…a book, because she teaches English, a Big Ben building because she loves England, and a bunch of ant charms …because, after all, she is an aunt…..
For Brenda, my Ambersitter, I also make a name bracelet. I add cooking charms—a pot, a pan, and teeny-tiny spatula. (I picked those charms as a joke because Brenda is the weirdest, if not the worstest, cook ever.) I also add a pair of scissors because Brenda always cuts her hair strangely…so strangely that my mom once made Brenda promise that she would NEVER cut my hair…. or pierce any part of my body…. I am glad that mom said that about my hair but I REALLY wish that she would let me get my ears pierced…but she says I can’t, not until I’m twelve.
I finish working on the alphabet and charm bracelets and start working on the Scrabble jewelry. (For months, mom and I have been going to garage, house, and rummage sales, buying up all of the old Scrabble games that we could find. Now we are ready to use the tiles.)
I pick up an “O” and then an “H” tile. They’re for my teacher, Olivia Holt. If she wears them one way, so that the “O” is on her right ear…she’ll spell out “OH”…. if she wears the “H” on her right ear, she’ll spell out HO…which is very Christmas…especially if you say it several times.
Then, I make a pair for Aunt Pam…but the tiles aren’t “A” and “P.” They are “P” and “T” (for Thompson).
I’m almost done.
I look over at my mom, who is making sure that all the rhinestones are sticking on the picture frame that I made for my Grandma Brown, my dad’s mom.
I haven’t seen Grandma Brown, who lives in Florida, since before my Dad left for Paris.
It makes me sad, but maybe now that my Dad is back, we can go visit her sometime.
I take a plain picture frame and start putting rhinestones and pearls on it. When it’s all finished, I’ll put one of my pictures in it. (And I’ll put rhinestones on the picture.)
My mom says, “This is fun…and it saves money.”
I nod. With what I borrowed from my mom, I don’t think that I’ll be getting any allowance again until the middle of March. If I weren’t making some of the presents, I doubt that I would be getting an allowance again until August.
I start working on one of Max’s presents.
It’s a salt and pepper shaker set that I found at the 99 Cent store, and I am putting lots of rhinestones on it.
I think that it will make Max smile.
I show my mother. “Isn’t this the perfect gift for a bowling coach? I know that I won’t strike out with this item.”
First, my mom groans at my pun…and maybe even the thought of rhinestone bowling-ball-and-pin salt and pepper shakers, and then says, “He’ll be so grateful that you could spare the time to make this for him.”
I work on Max’s gift.
I know that it’s sort of tacky, but it’s fun.
On the bowling pin, I glue on rhinestones in the shape of a strike, X.
On the bowling ball, I start to make a rhinestone slash,/, like a spare.
My mom looks at it and says, “When I look at those shakers, I think about how they are going to be back here when Max and I get married, and we all live together.”
I close my eyes for a minute while I think about what she’s said.
I know that they are engaged.
I know that they are going to get married.
I just have trouble thinking about all of us living together.
While my eyes are closed, disaster strikes!
“Oooops,” I say, opening my eyes.
The glue has escaped from the sides of the tube and is on my hand.
My fingers are glued together. So are the bowling ball and the tube of glue…. all attached to my left hand.
This is not good.
In fact, it’s pretty bad.
I go to wipe my eyes with my left hand but my mother grabs it, quickly.
“Don’t touch your eyes,” she warns.
I don’t.
Her hand, which is holding mine, is now stuck to my hand, to the bowling ball and to the tube of glue.
“This is a very sticky situation,” I say.
“Not funny,” she says, and then starts laughing.
I st
art laughing too.
“I wonder if this is what people mean when they talk about mother-daughter bonding.”
She shakes her head.
I think about mothers and daughters…. and then I think about fathers.
“Mom,” I say. “Dad’s going to be here to pick me up for dinner soon. Maybe we’ll all have to go to dinner together.”
Sometimes, even though I, Amber Brown, know that it’s not a good idea…I still think about my parents getting back together.
The only way that I think that will happen is if I glue them together.
“Dinner together???!!!!” My mom shakes her head. “Don’t even think about it…. THAT would be a very sticky situation. No, the less that I see of your father, the better.”
I, Amber Brown, hate when my mom says things like that. It makes me feel really bad.
I used to think that my mom was practically perfect, but ever since she found out that my dad was moving back, she’s been a little weird…. and sometimes she says mean things about him.
I hate when she does that.
“Nail polish remover. That’s what we need,” my mom says.
“I’ll go get it,” I volunteer and stand up.
My mother’s hand moves when I do.
I realize that if I’m going to get the nail polish remover, it’s going to be a mother-daughter activity.
I also realize that I have to go to the bathroom, which is not a mother-daughter activity, not at my age.
This is definitely going to become embarrassing if my mother and I remain this attached.
We go up the steps, hands glued together, to her makeup drawer.
Nail polish remover….
It works.
I rush to the bathroom.
My mom goes downstairs. “Hurry up. Your father will be here any minute, and I really don’t want him to be here any longer than he has to be.”
While I’m upstairs, the phone rings.
I rush to get it.
It’s for me.
It’s Brandi, who says, “Bulletin. Bulletin. Bulletin. Do I have a bulletin for you!!!! It’s so amazing. And you’ve just got to convince your mom to let you do it too. Guess. You’ve got to guess what it is.”
I, Amber Brown Page 1