Anastasia, Ask Your Analyst (9 page)

"Katherine," said Dr. Krupnik, rubbing one shoe with a brush, "it might work. It sounds good."

"I'll be darned. Anastasia, sometimes you're a genius." Mrs. Krupnik put the last pot away, hung up the dishtowel, and went to the phone. "Listen to me, you guys, while I ooze with sweetness."

"Fifteen minutes," said Mrs. Krupnik. "They should be here in about fifteen minutes."

"I'm going to hide," whimpered Sam. "I'm going to hide in a closet."

It was Saturday afternoon, and Mrs. Coletti was bringing Nicky to play.

"Sam," Anastasia reminded him. "Mom and I are here. And Nicky's mother will be here, too. We'll protect you, we promise. And remember why they're coming? So Mrs. Coletti will
see
Nicky beating you up. Remember it's all a secret plan?"

Sam nodded, but his eyes were wide. "Yeah," he whispered. "A secret plan."

Mrs. Krupnik arranged cookies on a plate. The tea kettle was on, and she had teacups on a tray. Little glasses of juice were ready for Sam and Nicky.

"Sam," his mother suggested, "why don't you bring your oatmeal-box train down to the living room, so you and Nicky can play with it there while the mothers have tea?"

"Okay," Sam said, and trotted off. In a minute Anastasia and her mother could hear the train thumping down the front stairs: fourteen oatmeal boxes attached to each other in a line, with the bright red caboose at the end. The train was Sam's very favorite toy.

The doorbell rang. Sam scurried into the kitchen and stood behind his mother, clutching her skirt. Mrs. Krupnik had changed out of her usual jeans for the Colettis' visit.

"Sam, sweetie," said his mother, "I can't answer the door if you're grabbing me that way."

Reluctantly, Sam let go. Anastasia took his hand, and the three of them went to the front door.

The woman standing there was small and ordinary looking. "Hello," she said, "I'm Shirley Coletti."

Mrs. Krupnik, oozing with sweetness, ushered her into the house. Behind Mrs. Coletti stood somebody about Sam's size, bundled into a red snowsuit.

"And this must be Nicky," oozed Mrs. Krupnik. "Let me take your coat, Shirley. Anastasia, can you get Nicky's snowsuit?"

Anastasia knelt on the hall floor in front of Nicky Coletti, who looked at her suspiciously with big dark long-lashed eyes.

"Lookit the train," said Nicky, peering through the door to the living room. "I wanna play with the train."

"It's
my
train," said Sam. Then he added, reluctantly, "But you can play with it."

Anastasia unzipped Nicky's snowsuit. Her mother had taken Mrs. Coletti into the living room.

She eased the top of the snowsuit down over Nicky's firm little shoulders. She lifted Nicky into a chair and began to maneuver the thick snowsuit legs over Nicky's shoes—Nicky's black patent leather shoes.

That's weird, thought Anastasia. Black patent leather shoes?

Finally she pulled the entire snowsuit off, revealing Nicky's two bare, sturdy legs and a short plaid dress that was hiked up in back, exposing ruffled underpants.

"I'm gonna get that train," announced Nicky. She jumped down from the chair and ran into the living room.

"Sam," said Anastasia in astonishment to Sam, who was hiding in a dark corner of the hall, "Nicky Colletti is a
girl!
"

"Yeah," said Sam. "Big fat ugly Nicky Coletti."

Anastasia took Sam's hand and went into the living room. Her mother was pouring tea for Mrs. Coletti, who was talking nonstop. Nicky was on her hands and knees, pushing the train around the room.

"You got stuck with one of these big old houses, I see," Mrs. Coletti was saying. "I'm lucky; I've got a raised ranch. I've got your four-bedroom, family-room, two-and-a-half baths."

"Rrrrrrrrrrr," said Nicky in a loud voice, "train wreck, coming up." She was aiming the train for the coffee table. Anastasia cringed and waited for Mrs. Coletti to tell Nicky not to smash the train into the table.

Crash. The table remained intact, though the teacups rattled. But Sam's engine was dented, and the little smokestack fell off.

Mrs. Coletti glanced down. "You shouldn't get those cheap cardboard toys," she said. "I always get Nicky the real sturdy toys: your Playskool and your Tonka."

"Rrrrrrrr," roared Nicky. She took the plate of cookies, tilted it, and emptied it into one of the train cars. Then she headed for the dining room with Sam's train. "Train wreck number two!" she bellowed, and they heard a crash, and the sound of cookies hitting the floor.

Mrs. Krupnik took a deep breath. "More tea, Shirley?" she asked politely.

Sam was sitting beside Anastasia on the couch, listening intently to the noise in the dining room. His chin was puckered, as if he might cry.

"In a new house, like mine," Mrs. Coletti went on, "you
don't get all the dust like you have here. Of course you get your modern heating system. See this?" She reached behind her and ran one finger over the top of the radiator. "With your modern heating system you don't get any of this dust."

Mrs. Krupnik smiled a tight-lipped smile and sipped her tea. "We wanted an older house," she said, "because of the space. This house has room for me to have a studio here, so that I can work at home."

"Oh, you
work?
"

Mrs. Krupnik nodded.

"My mother's an illustrator," Anastasia said. "She does the illustrations for books."

"I'm lucky," said Shirley Coletti smugly. "I never had to work."

"Mom doesn't
have
to work," said Anastasia. "She works because she's good at it. She likes to work."

"I have a real artistic sister," said Shirley Coletti, pouring herself some more tea. "She does her own Christmas cards every year? Last year she did Santa Claus holding a martini glass. You know, you could tell, because it had an olive in it? Then inside it said, `'Tis the season to be jolly, Ho Ho Ho.'"

Mrs. Krupnik smiled politely. The dining room was quiet. They could hear Nicky's "rrrrrrr" from some distance; apparently Nicky had headed toward the kitchen.

"Anastasia," her mother said, "maybe you could go and check—"

"Maybe it didn't say 'jolly.' I think it said "Tis the
season to be
merry.
' They were real cute, anyway," said Shirley Coletti.

There was a terrible crash from the kitchen. Anastasia jumped up.

"Nicole Marie Coletti!" yelled her mother. "Whatever you're doing, cut it out! Or I'll whip the living daylights out of you!"

The kitchen was empty when Anastasia reached it. But Sam's train was there, its red caboose flattened. Nicky had apparently stood on the caboose to reach the shelf where the cookie jar was. There were cookies everywhere, and the fat blue pottery cookie jar was in shattered pieces on the floor.

Sadly, Anastasia picked up the pieces and dropped them into the wastebasket. Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"My train," he whimpered.

Anastasia put her arm around him. "Mom and I will try to fix it after that brat leaves," she said. "Right now we'd better find her."

There was a trail of cookie crumbs on the back stairs. They followed it, and found Nicky in the master bedroom. She was spraying herself with Mrs. Krupnik's perfume. She was wearing Mrs. Krupnik's best high-heeled shoes.

Anastasia reached for the perfume bottle, to take it away from Nicky. Nicky bit her on the arm.

"OW!" said Anastasia.

"I
told
you Nicky Coletti bites," said Sam grimly.

Anastasia wrestled Nicky to the floor, took away the perfume, and removed her mother's shoes. Nicky darted away in her stocking feet and disappeared.

Anastasia sighed, picked up Nicky's little patent leather shoes, rubbed the aching bite mark on her arm, and went in pursuit.

The bathroom was empty, but the toilet paper had been unwound and strewn around the floor. A tube of bright green Prell shampoo had been squeezed into the bathtub.

"She's really fast," said Anastasia. "Where do you suppose she went?" She headed toward Sam's bedroom, with Sam trotting behind her.

"My nursery school teacher says that Nicky Coletti is faster than a speeding bullet," said Sam.

His bedroom was ominously quiet. They stood in the doorway, looking in; Sam's finger-paints had been opened, and his bedspread was smeared with blue and green paint.

Suddenly, Nicky appeared, jumping up from her hiding place behind the closet door. She took aim and threw a Matchbox car in their direction. Anastasia shielded Sam, and the missile caught her on the shoulder as it whizzed past.

"OW!" she said again. She grabbed for Nicky, caught her as she dashed by, and pinioned her arms to her sides. Nicky kicked her in the shins.

"I
told
you Nicky Coletti kicks," murmured Sam.

"Nicky," said Anastasia, holding the little girl tightly
by the shoulders, "go downstairs. Your mother wants you."

Pouting, Nicky shook herself loose and headed down the front stairs toward the living room. Anastasia followed, rubbing her wounds.

"There you are, Nicky, you little devil," said Shirley Coletti. "If you broke anything, I'm going to tell your daddy to whip you when we get home." She turned back to Anastasia's mother. "So, as I was saying, with your wall-to-wall, like I have, you don't have your problem with trying to keep these old floors clean."

Nicky had sauntered away.

"She's headed for your studio, Mom," said Sam loudly. "And she's already wrecked every other room, almost."

Mrs. Krupnik leaped to her feet and took off after Nicky.

"That Nicky," said Shirley Coletti, smiling at Anastasia. "She's your basic hyperactive? The doctor says that your hyperactives are smarter than other children, did you know that?"

Mrs. Krupnik returned with Nicky, kicking and whining, under one arm. She deposited her unceremoniously in Mrs. Coletti's lap. Nicky curled up, leaned against her mother, and looked slyly at Anastasia.

Mrs. Coletti sniffed. "You found yourself some perfume, didn't you, Nicky? You're a real little lady. Is that one of your Avon products?" she asked Mrs. Krupnik.

"No. It's called Je Reviens," said Katherine Krupnik in an ominous voice.

"French, huh? That's real la-di-da. You know Avon has some real good scents, your florals? And they're not as expensive as your French," said Shirley Coletti.

"Anastasia," said Mrs. Krupnik, "why don't you get Mrs. Coletti's coat? And Nicky's snowsuit?"

"I'll do that," said Anastasia.

Myron Krupnik came through the back door and brushed at the shoulders of his heavy jacket. "It's starting to snow," he announced. "I got the snow tires put on just in time."

His wife was vacuuming cookie crumbs from the kitchen floor. "Move," she said to him. "You're in my way."

Anastasia looked over from the sink, where she was washing the teacups. "Hi, Dad," she said wearily.

"How's it going, old Sam?" asked Dr. Krupnik cheerfully, and leaned over to pick up Sam, who was kneeling on the floor trying to unsquash his red caboose. "Want to feel some snowflakes?"

Sam burst into tears. "Put me down," he wailed.

"Well," said Anastasia's father, depositing Sam back on the floor, "there's nothing like a warm hearty welcome to make a man feel terrific."

Everyone glared at him.

"I have a feeling," he said slowly, "that the tea party did not go well."

"Where were you?" asked Mrs. Krupnik. "You said you'd be here."

"I got held up at the gas station. Everybody was waiting in line to have their snow tires put on. Why? You didn't need me, did you? To entertain one woman and one little boy?"

"Girl," said Sam.

"Girl," said Anastasia.

"Girl," said Mrs. Krupnik. "One obnoxious, pretentious, irritating woman, and one horrendous, horrible ■—"

"Hyperactive—" said Anastasia.

"Hyperactive brat. YES, we needed you. Talk about a rat deserting a sinking ship!"

Dr. Krupnik hung his jacket on a hook in the back hall. "Sam, would you get your old dad a beer, please?" he asked.

Sam went to the refrigerator.

"Now tell me all about it, Katherine," Anastasia's father said.

"I'm going upstairs," said Anastasia. "I don't want to hear about it."

"Can I come with you?" asked Sam.

Sure.

They trudged up the stairs, over the cookie crumbs, past Sam's paint-spattered room and the master bedroom, which still reeked of Je Reviens perfume.

"I don't know which is worse," said Anastasia. "A room filled with French perfume or a room filled with gerbilsmell." They headed up the stairs to Anastasia's thirdfloor room.

"A room with Nicky Coletti in it;
that's
the worst," said Sam.

"Right. Oh, NO!" Anastasia stood in the doorway of her bedroom, looking in. "She was up here, too!"

Anastasia's marking pens were lying all over the floor, with their caps off. There was a wavy line of orange on the wallpaper near her bed; and Freud had a blue spot on the tip of his crooked nose.

She dashed to her goldfish bowl. "Frank? Are you okay, Frank?"

Frank opened and closed his mouth solemnly. He looked all right, but he wasn't his usual cheerful self.

"He's traumatized," Anastasia said. "He's stunned."

"Anastasia," said Sam in a frightened voice. "Look." He was on his knees beside the gerbil cage.

She looked. The top of the cage was unlatched and open, and the gerbil cage was empty.

Anastasia Krupnik
Mr. Sherman's Class

On October 13, I acquired two wonderful little gerbils, who are living in a cage in my bedroom. Their names are Romeo and Juliet, and they are very friendly. They seem to like each other a lot. Since they are living in the same cage as man and wife, I expect they will have gerbil babies. My gerbil book says that It takes twenty-five days to make gerbil babies. I think they are already mating, because they act very affectionate to each other, so I will count today as DAY ONE and then I will observe them for twenty-five days and I hope that on DAY 25 their babies will be born.

This will be my Science Project.

Day Three.

My gerbils haven't changed much. They lie in their cage and sleep a lot. They're both overweight, because they eat too much, and they resemble Sonya Isaacson's mother, at least in chubbiness.