Kristy's Mystery Admirer (7 page)

Shannon did not answer Bart. She didn't even look at him. (Neither did Mary Anne nor Dawn. I had a feeling Shannon had told them

her suspicions about Bart.) And I focused on Shannon, feeling only mildly sorry for Bart.

When Shannon had convinced us that she truly was fine (or was going to be) and had even asked to keep the ball with which she'd been hit, the collected Krushers and Bashers finally returned to their game. Buddy lingered for a moment, though, received another smile from Shannon, then ran to catch up with his team.

The rest of the game went about the same way as the first inning. The Krushers simply were not a match for the Bashers- that day, no matter how hard they tried, and no matter how loudly the cheerleaders shouted. In the end, the Bashers beat the Krushers 10-1, and that one run was suspect, but the Bashers "gave" it to us, since they already had eight runs at the time and the game was nearing its end.

When the game was over, Bart trotted up to me and said, "Good game, Kristy. You coached your kids well."

I glared at him. How could he try to psyche me out, then be so nice to me? Bart looked confused, but I pretended not to notice, and when he asked if he could walk me home, I thanked him but said I was busy. Then I joined Shannon, Dawn, and Mary Anne.

They were talking about Bart and the letters.

"Maybe," Dawn began, "he's not trying to psyche you out for the World Series. Maybe he's mad at you because of that fight you two had over how the series should be played. The weird letters started after the fight, didn't they?"

I nodded.

"And you know how boys hold grudges," said Shannon, sounding wise.

I shrugged. "Either way, what he's doing is crummy."

My friends agreed.

Then I had to leave. I had to help the Krush-ers with their equipment, see that everyone got picked up, and finally help Charlie load our car. He drove Karen, Andrew, David Michael, and me home, and I tried not to feel too depressed.

What had I gotten myself into? I was still supposed to go to the Halloween Hop with Bart, and Bart was either crazy or mean. (// he was the note writer. If he wasn't, I didn't want to think about who was.) Anyway, I had to decide whether to un-invite Bart to the dance.

Later, I was in the middle of figuring out how to do that, not having had much experience with boys, when our phone rang. Of course, it was Bart. Great.

I didn't even bother to sneak into the closet with the cordless phone. I just took the receiver from Mom, who had answered the extension in the kitchen and said, "Hi, Bart. I'm sorry but I can't talk to you now," and hung up.

As I returned the receiver to the cradle, I could hear him saying, "Hey, Kristy," but I didn't feel too bad. Not when I thought about his notes.

However, it took me a long time to fall asleep that night.

Chapter 10.

When Mary Anne arrived at the Barretts', she found them organized, for once. Or maybe they're generally more organized now. Anyway, they were a far cry from the way Dawn Schafer used to find them when she first began sitting for them. The children were dressed and set for softball practice, Mrs. Barrett was ready to leave but wasn't in one of her mad dashes, their house was tidy, and Pow the dog had even been walked.

"Good-bye, you three," said Mrs. Barrett when she'd put on her coat. She kissed Buddy (who's eight), Suzi (who's five), and Marnie (who's two), wished Buddy and Suzi good luck at practice, and left.

"Well," said Mary Anne, "let's get going. We should leave now if you want to be at the ball field on time."

"Okay," said Buddy. He looked at Suzi. "Do you want to get it or should I?"

"I will!" Suzi cried.

Mary Anne had no idea what they were talking about, but she didn't have to wait long to find out. Suzi returned in a flash, holding something behind her back. She whipped it out and held it up proudly.

"It's a Krushers T-shirt for Marnie!" said Buddy.

"Yeah. She comes to almost all the games. She needs one," added Suzi.

So Mary Anne, smiling, put the shirt on over Mamie's sweater, checked to make sure everyone was wearing a hat, and led the kids out the back door to the garage, where Mamie's stroller was kept.

They set off, Buddy and Suzi chattering away, and Marnie pointing at things and crying out, "Doggie! Big doggie!" and, "Smell flowers, Mary Anne," and, "Play ball!" which made everyone laugh, because she had said it just like a sportscaster.

Then they fell into a silence, which was broken by Buddy saying tentatively, "I wonder if that girl will be there again."

"What girl?" asked Mary Anne.

"He means Shan-non," Suzi answered in a singsong voice.

Buddy blushed. "I hit her on the head at our last game and she wanted to keep the ball, just like a real fan."

"Oh," said Mary Anne, remembering.

"Buddy li-ikes Shannon, Buddy li-ikes Shannon," sang Suzi.

"Want to make something of it?" asked Buddy, not denying the charge.

"Buddy and Shannon, sitting in a tree — " Suzi began.

Buddy grabbed her arm. "Cut it out!" he yelled. "Or I'll tell Mary Anne and Mom about the . . . you know."

Suzi was instantly quiet.

The rest of the walk to the ball field was quiet, but Mary Anne had a feeling that everyone (except Marnie) was thinking about or wondering about whatever Suzi had done. Mary Anne felt it wasn't her business to pry, though.

At the playing field, everyone oohed and ahhed — first over Marnie in her T-shirt, and then over the cheerleaders. They had gotten their costumes together and were wearing them. They had even managed to find wigs that matched The Three Stooges' hair.

A few kids laughed, but Charlotte, Vanessa, and Haley didn't care. Their costumes were funny and they knew it.

"We ought to pep you guys up," said Haley to the Krushers, and the Krushers agreed.

Everyone was in a good mood. I sensed that as soon as I set foot on the grounds of Ston-eybrook Elementary. David Michael was with me. He had been talking nonstop about the World Series, which was fast approaching. Then there were Vanessa, Haley, and Charlotte in their crazy outfits, and Marnie Barrett in her little Krushers T-shirt.

I was probably the only one who wasn't entirely psyched for the game. I still didn't know what to do about Bart and the dance, and then, when I was leaving the house for practice, I found another note on our front steps. Thank goodness David Michael was still inside, looking for his mitt. I didn't want him to see what I'd found.

The new note said, "Beware. I'm coming sooner than you think. And once I find you, this is all that will be left of Kristin Amanda Thomas." I looked in the envelope and saw . . . fingernail clippings.

Oh, ew. EW. I almost dumped them out, but decided I might need them for evidence sometime.

"Hey, Kristy!" called David Michael then, and I thrust the envelope in the back pocket of my jeans.

"What?" I yelled back.

"I can't find my mitt."

So we had to have a mitt-search before we could leave for the ball field.

By the time we reached Stoneybrook Elementary, I was tired. David Michael and I had a fair amount of equipment to carry and no one to help us, although Charlie had said he'd pick me up after practice. So we had to carry everything ourselves. Besides being tired, my

mind wasn't on the game. It was on Bart, the school dance, and the notes, especially the one I'd just received. So, despite The Three Stooges cheerleaders, practice did not go very well. But it was not entirely my fault.

Even though my Krushers were their usual enthusiastic selves, they just did not play well. Jackie Rodowsky kept tripping when he ran bases. Jamie Newton began ducking balls again. David Michael's pitching was not up to par.

I gathered the Krushers together after two innings of mistakes. "You guys," I said, "remember the basics, okay? All the old stuff. Pay attention to what you're doing. Keep your eye on the ball. Don't swing at wild pitches. And no fancy stuff. Concentrate on the game, not on stealing bases, okay?"

"O-kay!" chanted the Krushers.

"Do you need a break before we continue our game?"

"Maybe just a little one," replied Myriah.

"All right," I said. "Take ten."

I walked over to the trees, where Mary Anne and Claudia were sitting with Marnie Barrett, Laura Perkins . . . and Shannon!

"Hi, you guys," I said wearily, and then added, to Shannon, "When did you get here? I thought you were busy this afternoon."

"Our hockey practice was canceled," she replied.

"Well, I'm glad you came to watch us," I told her.

"Me, too," said a voice from behind me.

It was Buddy Barrett, gazing adoringly at Shannon. (I had no idea what was going on then, because I hadn't read Mary Anne's notebook entry ,yet.)

"Hey, Buddy," I said, "could you go give Jackie some hitting tips?"

"Sure," he replied, looking both pleased and disappointed. (Disappointed at not being able to stay with Shannon, I guess.)

"Is anything wrong?" Mary Anne asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah. This." I pulled the envelope out of my pocket and showed my friends the newest note.

Their reaction was nearly the same as mine had been:

"Gross!" (Claudia)

"Repulsive!" (Mary Anne)

"Disgusting!" (Shannon)

After that, no one knew what to say, but I had a feeling we were all wondering the same thing. Would Bart really do something so gross, repulsive, and disgusting?

"Well," I said, "back to the game. Cheer us on, you guys."

The Krushers returned to their practice. The third inning began. And on David Michael's first pitch, Buddy Barrett swung and hit the ball with a loud crack! I saw Mary Anne and Claudia throw themselves in front of the strollers, and Shannon duck and cover her head. But they didn't need to worry. The ball sailed into the outfield. Buddy had hit a double.

"Yea!" cheered Shannon.

And that was the end of our good luck. Jake Kuhn fouled out. David Michael's pitching went downhill. Then Jackie hit a double himself, but tripped and fell just as he was approaching second base.

"Out!" yelled Nicky Pike.

At least Buddy made it home, scoring one run.

The cheerleaders went wild. "Who are the greatest? Who are the greatest?" they yelled, jumping up and down. "The Krushers, the Krushers! Yea!"

By the time they were finished, all of their wigs had fallen off, and Vanessa's pants were practically at her knees.

"Vanessa!" hissed Haley, aghast.

"I know, I know." Vanessa tugged desperately at her pants.

"I guess we'll have to work a little harder on our costumes," said Charlotte.

After another inning, I called a halt to practice. Nothing was being accomplished. Margo Pike was in the outfield, blowing on blades of grass and staring into space. David Michael was paying more attention to a scrape on his elbow than to his pitching. Buddy had eyes only for Shannon, and even I wasn't concentrating. Not on the game, anyway, but I sure couldn't keep my mind off the notes.

Mary Anne rounded up Buddy and Suzi and set off for the Barretts'. Their mother would be home soon. Suzi seemed gloomy as they walked along, but Buddy was in seventh heaven.

"Did you hear how Shannon cheered for me?" he asked.

"Buddy and Shannon, sitting in a tree — " sang Suzi.

"Suzi, one more word and I'll tell about the . . ."

"Okay, okay, okay."

Mary Anne smiled — then remembered the fingernail clippings and stopped her smiling abruptly.

Chapter 11.

After our disastrous practice, Bart once again appeared at the schoolyard and asked to walk me home. And once again, I rode with Charlie instead.

"What's with you?" Bart called after me as I climbed into the car. "Why won't you speak to me? Why won't Shannon speak to me? Girls are . . ."

His voice faded away as we drove off.

"Why won't you speak to Bart?" Charlie wanted to know, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror and frowning.

But I wouldn't answer him, either.

And that night, when Bart called, I said to Sam, "Tell him I've gone to Europe," which Sam did with a certain amount of glee. Telling Bart I'd gone to Europe was tantamount to a goof call, for Sam.

Considering all this, you can imagine how surprised I was when the doorbell rang the next afternoon, and who should I find on our front steps but Bart.

"Bart!" I exclaimed.

"Can I come in?" he asked seriously.

"I guess so," I replied. Nannie was home. Sam, too. I wasn't baby-sitting, and it's a lot easier to hang up on somebody (or have your brother tell him you've gone to Europe) than it is to slam a door in his face.

Bart stepped inside and I closed the door behind him. "We have to talk," he said. "In private. Where can we go?"

"My room, I guess," I answered with a sigh. I went to the kitchen, told Nannie that Bart was here and we were going to my room to talk, then led him upstairs. This felt weird. Bart had only been inside my house a few times, and he had certainly never been inside my room. I fervently hoped that I hadn't left any underwear lying around and that my room was at least reasonably neat. (I'm not exactly a slob, but if anybody were ever asked to list ten things that describe me, the word neat would not come to mind.)

I walked into my room ahead of Bart and was relieved to see that it was presentable.

(There might have been some underwear under the bed, but Bart would never know.) I looked around to see who should sit where, and decided that I should sit in my desk chair and Bart should get the armchair.

"So?" he said, trying to fold his tall body into the small chair.

"So?" I countered.

"Kristy, what ... is ... going . . . on?" he said in a measured voice.

"I think you know."

"I do not. If I knew, I wouldn't be here right now."

"You sure are a good liar," I said bluntly.

"Liar?! I'm not lying. I don't know what's going on and I want you to tell me. Either you or Shannon. But you're the one I'm supposed to be going to a dance with," said Bart. He looked angry and I began to feel afraid. First of all, I'd never seen him this angry. Second, it probably wasn't a good idea to get a lunatic angry. I was glad that Nannie and Sam were home.