Ann Martin - Stacey And The Mystery Of Stoneybrook

Kristy noticed that the map was shaking. Then she figured out that it was her hands that were shaking. She let go of the map and it drifted to the floor. Kristy thought again about all the things that Charlotte and I had told her that day. She was scared out of her wits.

She decided not to read another word in those books. She decided to put the map away and never look at it again. She decided she wished that her mom and Watson would come home SOON.

Kristy got up and turned off the lamp she'd been using. She picked up all the books and brought them over to the carton in the corner. As she packed them away, she suddenly got the strangest feeling that she was being watched (she told me this later). There was a definite presence in the room. She didn't want to turn around, so she just kept packing the books into the box, very carefully. The presence was still there. Finally, she knew she had to turn and look. She wheeled around quickly

and saw Sam and Charlie just standing there in the doorway, grinning and making horrible faces at her. She screamed and fell into the nearest chair. Sam and Charlie didn't stop laughing for at least half an hour.

Chapter 7.

I was walking down Fifth Avenue, past Rockefeller Center. Gary Rockman was running after me, calling my name over and over.

"Stacey," he said. "Stacey, please come to me!"

I woke up with a start, back in my regular old bed in Stoneybrook. It was morning. Gary Rockman was nowhere in sight, but someone was calling my name. It was Charlotte, and she didn't sound too good.

I went into the guest room. Charlotte was in bed, the covers tangled around her legs. She looked flushed and hot. I put my hand on her forehead. She was burning up!

"Stacey, my throat hurts. I feel awful." Charlotte looked awful. A couple of tears ran down her cheeks. "I miss my mommy," she said.

"I know, Charlotte, but don't worry. We'll

take good care of you." I ran for the thermometer, and while Charlotte held it in her mouth, I went to find my mom. She came upstairs with me and we took a look at the thermometer. A hundred and two degrees. Charlotte was definitely sick. Mom and I glanced at each other. I knew she was feeling as bad as I was for the way we'd played down Charlotte's earlier symptoms. I'd been so sure it was just that Charlotte was nervous and homesick.

Charlotte's parents had left a list of emergency numbers. I checked it to see which doctor we should call, and it said she went to Dr. Dellenkamp. Mom went downstairs to call for an appointment. I helped Charlotte get up, wash her face, and get dressed. She moved slowly. Finally we all piled into the car and drove to the doctor's office.

When we walked into the waiting room, we could see right away that it was going to be awhile before we saw the doctor. There was a woman with a crying baby, another mother trying to convince her toddler to sit and play quietly with some blocks, and a girl about my age who was sitting there alone, kind of hunched over. She looked like she had a stomachache. Mom decided that she might as

well get the grocery shopping done, since I was there to wait with Charlotte, so she took off.

Charlotte and I sat down on the couch. It was kind of an ugly couch, made of that fake leather stuff that sticks to your legs when you try to get up. Why do waiting rooms always have such ugly furniture? Charlotte put her head in my lap and closed her eyes. I stroked her hair. It's the worst feeling when you're sick and you have to be anywhere but home in bed.

Charlotte seemed comfortable, so I looked at the table by the couch to see what magazines they had. Oh, boy. I had a choice between a July 1979 Reader's Digest and this month's Highlights for Children. I picked up Highlights, just to see if it had changed any since I used to look at it in my pediatrician's office. Nope. There were good old Goofus and Gallant, same as ever. Even as a kid I'd thought that Gallant was kind of a goody-goody.

I was still paging through the magazine when the outer door opened and the most gorgeous guy walked in, holding the hand of a little boy who must have been his brother. I stared. Blond curly hair, blue eyes ... he

reminded me of Scott, this lifeguard I'd had a crush on once in Sea City, New Jersey. He looked back at me, and then I saw his gaze fall to the magazine I was holding. I dropped it like a hot potato. He smiled at me, as if to say he understood.

I was totally humiliated. Luckily, the receptionist called Charlotte then, and I went with her into the examining room, still blushing.

The examination didn't take long. Dr. Dellenkamp knew what it was right away.

"Tonsillitis again?" Charlotte wailed.

"That’s right, Charlotte. Back on the old penicillin," the doctor said. "We may have to do something about those tonsils at some point," she said to me quietly as Charlotte hopped off the table. "But for now, since her parents are away, we'll just hit the germs again with this." She wrote out a prescription.

"Charlotte has trouble taking pills, so we usually give her liquid penicillin. She should take a teaspoon of it four times a day. She'll feel better pretty quickly — in a day or so, I'd say."

The doctor put her arm around Charlotte as we walked out. "I know you must miss your parents, but you be a good patient for Stacey. She'll take care of you just fine," she said. She

winked at me as we said good-bye.

My mom was waiting for us. Fortunately, the gorgeous guy was busy keeping his little brother's hands out of the aquarium, so I was able to dash out of the waiting room without meeting his eyes again.

We stopped by the drugstore to pick up Charlotte's prescription. As soon as she saw the bottle she started to ... well, she started to whine. There's no nicer way to put it.

"I hate that stuff," she moaned. "It tastes so awful that I want to throw up when I take it. Do I have to take it? Oh, I want my mommy. It's not fair!"

I knew how she felt, but really. Her whining was a little hard to take, especially since she didn't let up the whole way home.

When we got to our house, I went into the kitchen for a spoon. Charlotte stayed in the living room, where she'd thrown herself on the couch. When I walked in, she turned over so that her face was buried in the pillows.

"I won't take it," she said. "I'd rather be sick."

I rolled my eyes. "Charlotte, look. It says 'New Cherry Flavor' on the bottle. Maybe it'll taste better than last time." I opened the bottle and sniffed the liquid inside. Oh, ew. It did

smell vile. There's nothing worse than that fake "cherry" flavor, unless it's phony banana. Yick.

"It smells okay, Charlotte," I lied. "Come on, all you have to take is a teaspoon. If you hold your nose, you'll hardly taste it. And I'll make you an ice-cream soda with ginger ale. You can drink that to take away the bad taste." I was bribing her, and I knew it. This wasn't the right way to go about getting that medicine down her throat.

"No," she said flatly. Oh, well. My bribe hadn't worked anyway. She burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. This was really getting frustrating. I tried not to feel angry at Charlotte. She wasn't feeling well, she missed her parents, she. was worried about her grandpa, and she was stuck in a strange house. I guess I might have felt cranky and uncooperative, too, if I'd been her.