Kristy's Mystery Admirer (4 page)

"Not much," I replied. "How's the band?"

"It's fine. We still don't have a place to practice, though."

Bart and I talked for about fifteen minutes, talked a lot about his band. Then we talked

about a teacher at my school that I don't like much, and about a couple of other things.

But Bart did not mention the mystery note and neither did I. When we got off the phone, I was not at all convinced that Bart was my mystery admirer, even if Shannon thought so. But if he wasn't, then who was?

Chapter 5.

What a day Tuesday was for me. Stacey's afternoon was pretty tame, judging from her notebook entry, but my whole day was, well, surprising.

It started when I leaned out of our front door very early in the morning to bring in the newspaper and found another envelope addressed to me. It was lying on the doormat, right next to the paper. (We have a very accurate paper girl. She hits the front steps every time. Either she has fantastic aim, or she walks the paper to the door.)

I grabbed the paper and the note, dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table, and then ran to my room with the envelope. I wasn't even dressed yet, but I read the letter right away, then thought it over while I got ready for school.

The envelope wasn't as fancy as the first one had been. It just said KRISTY on the front, and the back flap was sealed with a pink heart sticker. I kind of wished the "I" in my name

had been dotted with a heart again. Anyway, inside was another typed note. This one said, "Dearest Kristy, I can't stop thinking about you. Maybe I'm in love with you. I don't know. I've never been in love before. You are as beautiful as a snow-covered mountain. Love, Your Mystery Admirer."

Well, that last part was a little flowery (overwritten, my English teacher would say), but I didn't care. I'm not sure anyone had ever called me beautiful, except maybe Mom, and that doesn't count, because all mothers say their children are beautiful.

Of course, I told my friends about the notes while we ate lunch in the cafeteria that day. And, like Shannon, they were all sure Bart was my mystery admirer. I seemed to be the only one with any doubts.

Okay, so I had gotten a letter in the morning. Imagine my surprise when I found another one in our mailbox that afternoon. It said simply, "Dear Kristy, I love you, I love you, I love you. Love (get the picture?), Your Mystery Admirer."

I was floating on air by the time Shannon and I got to the ball field for the Krushers practice that day. And that was only the beginning of my excitement.

Stacey, meanwhile, went straight to the Per-kinses' after school. She was greeted at the door by an exuberant Myriah and Gabbie. (Myriah is five-and-a-half, and Gabbie is almost three. Guess what. Their family moved into our house when we moved into Watson's house!)

"Toshe me up, Stacey McGill! Toshe me up!" cried Gabbie. (That's Gabbie-talk for "Pick me up and give me a hug.") So Stacey toshed her up. When she set her down, Myriah grinned and said, "I'm learning how to ride a bike with no training wheels!"

She was very proud of herself.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Perkins left.

"Ready for your Krushers practice?" Stacey asked Myriah and Gabbie.

"Yes!" they cried. They were wearing pants, sneakers, and their special Krushers T-shirts.

"You need hats," Stacey reminded them. "You're going to be in the sun all afternoon." The girls dutifully found two old baseball caps, while Stacey tied a little pink hat on Laura and put her very distant fedora on her own head. Then they set off.

Gabbie and Myriah took turns helping Stacey push Laura's stroller. When they reached the practice field, the older girls ran to me.

Stacey took Laura to a grassy spot under a tree and sat next to the stroller.

"Do you want to sit on my lap?" she started to say to the baby, when she realized that Laura had fallen sound asleep. Well, thought Stacey, this will be an easy sitting job.

She was settling down with a book she'd brought along in case this happened, when I left my Krushers and ran over to her.

"Stacey!" I cried. "I got a third note this afternoon." I told her what it said, and Stacey just grinned.

"Hey, Kristy," a voice said.

Stacey peered around me and saw Shannon Kilbourne. She'd met Shannon a few times, so she knew her slightly. "Hi!" said Stacey.

"Hi," Shannon replied. "Listen, Kristy, your kids are getting a little zooey. I think you ought to start the practice."

So I did. I left Shannon and Stacey together under the tree with Laura. I hoped they would talk. I wanted Shannon and the other BSC members to know each other better.

They did talk.

"I've never seen you at a Krushers practice before," said Stacey amiably to Shannon. (She checked on Laura, who was still asleep.)

"I usually don't have time to come," Shannon replied. "Just like I can't come to the Baby-45

sitters Club meetings. I'm either at school in the afternoons — I'm in a lot of clubs — or I have to watch Maria, my youngest sister, or I'm baby-sitting somewhere else. But today I'm free! So I thought I'd come support the Krushers. A bunch of the kids I sit for are on the team. Kristy's great with them."

"How old is Maria?" Stacey asked. "Is she on the team?"

"Maria's eight. And no, she's not on the team. She hates anything athletic. Can you believe it? She likes doing homework."

Stacey smiled. "I know someone like that. Charlotte Johanssen. She's eight, too. But she's one of the Krushers cheerleaders, so she'll try athletic stuff sometimes. She's right over there." (Stacey pointed.) "I love that kid. She's almost like a sister to me."

Practice had begun and it was going well, from the actual playing to the cheerleading. Jamie Newton even put his hand out when the ball sailed toward him instead of ducking. He didn't catch the ball, but at least he tried. Claire struck out and did not have a tantrum. Overall, the kids on both of the teams into which I had divided the Krushers, hit very well. Plus, the two main pitchers, David Michael and Nicky Pike (one of Mal's brothers) were really improving.

When practice was over, Stacey and Shannon stood up and cheered, along with Charlotte, Vanessa, and Haley.

"Good game," said Shannon to Stacey and Mal (who was sitting for the Kuhn kids).

I trotted over to my friends as the Krushers started to leave. "You know what?" I said breathlessly. "I think we could beat the Bashers again — even without handicaps."

"The kids are improving, that's for sure," said Stacey, as Gabbie and Myriah ran to her and checked on their little sister.

"Ooh, she's sleeping," said Gabbie in a hushed voice. "Quiet, everyone."

I could tell that Stacey and Shannon and Mal wanted to laugh (I did), but instead we just lowered our voices.

"I better get going," said Shannon. "I'm supposed to start dinner tonight."

"I'm glad you guys had a chance to talk," I said.

"Me, too," replied Stacey. She smiled at Shannon. Then she left with the Perkins girls, Gabbie tiptoeing across the grass so as not to disturb Laura.

Later that afternoon, Stacey received a call from me.

"Hi," I said. "How was the rest of your sitting job?"

"Oh, fine. The girls were angels," Stacey reported. "Laura woke up on the way back and Myriah and Gabbie entertained her with songs until we reached their house. Mrs. Per-kins was already home, so I left then."

"Well, guess what. Just as you guys were heading away from the ball field, Bart showed up. He walked me home again. And you will never guess what we have decided to do."

"Elope?" said Stacey.

"No!" I was horrified.

"I was just kidding. I mean, because of the mystery admirer stuff."

"Oh. Well, anyway, we decided to hold a World Series between the Krushers and the Bashers."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How many games will you play?"

"Well, we had sort of a fight over that," I admitted. "I wanted to play three games, but Bart said one was enough for little kids. He thought three would be too much pressure, especially for kids like Claire Pike. I still don't agree with him, but I gave in. At least our fight is over."

"That's good," said Stacey. "Did Bart give away anything about being your mystery admirer?"

"Not a thing. That's why I'm so sure he's not the one."

"But he has to be," said Stacey.

"You sound like Shannon."

"I can't help it. Bart makes the most sense."

I started to tell her all the reasons why I knew Bart wasn't my mystery admirer, but I was tired of repeating them. Instead, I said, "I did something you won't believe."

"What?"

"I asked Bart to the Halloween Hop at our school and he said he'd come." That announcement was greeted by such a long silence that I said, "Stacey? . . . Stace? . . . Are you there?"

Finally she burst out laughing. "I'm here," she replied. "I really can't believe you did that! That's great. The Hop's coming up in just a couple of weeks — but you'll have to find something to wear, and fix your hair, and ..."

Stacey was off and running. I think she was more excited than I was.

Chapter 6.

"This," I said, "is completely gross." I poked at something yellowy-brown on the plate of food I'd just bought in the hot-lunch line in the cafeteria.

"Then why," said Claudia, "did you buy the hot lunch? You could buy a sandwich or a salad, you know."

I shrugged.

Claud, Stacey, Mary Anne, Dawn, Logan, and I were sitting at our usual table in the school cafeteria. (Mal and Jessi eat during another period since they're not in our grade.)

"Besides," I said, stabbing the unrecognizable thing with my fork, holding it up, and letting it dangle in front of me, "I like to gross out Mary Anne." I aimed my fork in her direction.

"Put it down!" shrieked Mary Anne, and Logan gave me a dirty look, which wasn't really very dirty.

"Of all the people at this table," said Dawn, "who would think that she" (Dawn pointed at me) "would have a mystery admirer?" Dawn looked as grossed out as Mary Anne.

"Or that she'd be the president of the BSC," added Stacey. "Kristy, either put that thing down or eat it."

I put it down. I certainly wasn't about to eat it.

We talked about baby-sitting for awhile. Mary Anne said that prissy Mrs. Prezzioso had actually bought Jenny a pair of pants. Until now, it had been hard to distinguish Jenny from lace curtains. Then Mal said that Matt Braddock was going to be in a play in his special school. The entire performance would be done in sign language. It was going to be a Hallo ween play.

Halloween reminded me of the Halloween Hop, and we began to talk about who was going with whom, and who was just going to go and hope for the best. Mary Anne and Logan were going together, of course. Claudia was hoping that this boy, Woody Jefferson, would ask her. Stacey was trying to get up the nerve to ask some new boy in her English class to go with her, and Dawn said she would go alone.

"A lot of kids do that," she added defen-

sively. Then she said that she thought I was so brave to have asked Bart. (By that time, everyone knew what I'd done. Secrets don't last long in the BSC.)

"Speaking of Bart," said Mary Anne. "Have you gotten any more notes?"

"Another one this morning!" I replied.

"And you didn't tell us?" cried Claudia. (You have to have a loud voice to be heard in our cafeteria.)

"Sorry," I replied. "It was the fourth one. I guess I'm getting used to them."

"Used to them!" repeated Dawn, awed.

"Boy, if I had a mystery admirer who was sending me love letters —" Stacey began loudly.

"SHH! Keep your voice down!" I said.

"If I keep my voice down, you won't be able to hear me," replied Stacey.

That was true, but I had noticed that Cokie Mason and her snobby little crowd — Grace Blume and two other girls, Lisa and Bebe — were sitting at the next table. They were being awfully quiet.

"You guys," I whispered, and my friends leaned forward to hear me.

"Is this going to be girl talk?" Logan whispered back.

"Sort of," I replied.

"See ya." Logan stood up abruptly and left. He hates when our conversations become too "girlish."

"I brought the letters with me. Look." I spread the notes out on the table. I had even saved the envelopes because I liked the stickers on them.

Mary Anne, Dawn, Claud, and Stacey bunched around the letters.

" 1 love you, I love you, I love you/ " Mary Anne read. She sighed. "That is so, so romantic."

"Distant," added Claudia.

"But you guys don't really think they're from — "I stopped. We had an audience. The boys at one table were watching us with great curiosity, and at the next table, Cokie Mason was peering rudely at us. Then she turned to Grace and snickered.

I put the letters away in a hurry.

"Don't pay any attention to Cokie and those guys," said Stacey.

"Yeah. They're probably jealous. I bet none of them ever got a love note from a secret admirer," said Mary Anne.

"I wonder why the letters are all typed," Stacey was saying.

"SHH!" (I hissed it.) "I already told you. It's so the mystery admirer can disguise his handwriting."

"Then they must be from Bart Taylor. Who else would need to disguise his writing?"

"Sam/' I said.

Cokie and her friends got up then and left the cafeteria. They didn't even bother to clear off the table they'd been sitting at.

"What pigs," I said.

As you can tell, we do not like Cokie and her group very much. And we have good reason not to.

"Remember Halloween?" spoke up Mary Anne, just as I was about to say the same thing. I guess that's a sign of being best friends.

"Boy, do I ever," said Claudia.

"What? What happened on Halloween?" asked Stacey. (She'd been back in New York then.)

"Mary Anne started getting these weird, threatening notes. Someone even sent her a bad-luck charm. And then, we really did have bad luck. We thought we were . . . well, I'm not sure what we thought," said Claudia fal-teringly, "but anyway, it turned out that Cokie and her friends were behind everything. They wanted to make us look like jerks, because