Ann Martin - Stacey And The Haunted Masquerade

"Please, please, please! Let’s not panic!" That was Mr. Kingbridge's voice. But his plea came too late. Plenty of students were already past the point of being calmed.

Q: How many middle school students does it take to create a stampede?

A: Not many.

I think it started in the front rows, with a group of sixth-graders who were afraid they wouldn't be able to leave the auditorium. Then it grew and grew, until a huge mass of kids was trying to work their way up the aisles. I heard shrieking and yelling and crying, and then a crash and a long scream, from the front of the auditorium. Claudia's hand tightened around mine. We were still sitting there, waiting to see what was going to happen next.

"What was that?" Jessi whispered. She tightened her grip, too.

"I don't know, but it didn't sound good," I whispered back.

Mr. Kingbridge was still trying to calm everybody. But the panic just seemed to spread. I was too afraid to move, so, I stayed in my seat. I couldn't see a thing in the dark, and I knew it would be crazy to try to find my way out of the auditorium.

Then, just as suddenly as the lights had gone off, they came back on. Everybody seemed to freeze in place. I saw kids practically piled on top of one another in the aisles, many with flushed, frightened-looking faces. The teachers looked terrified as they tried to herd everyone back to their seats. Mr. Kingbridge jumped off the stage and bent down to look at something, then stood up and called for help. I stood to try to see what was happening, but too many people were in my way.

"What a mess!" I heard Kristy say. . "Was it the Mischief Knights, do you think?" Mal asked.

"No way," said Logan. "They'd have to be nuts to do something as dangerous as this. They're mischievous, but they're not crazy."

I saw a teacher run up the aisle from where Mr. Kingbridge was standing, and out the door. Minutes later, I heard an ambulance siren. Once again, I felt the fear rise. What if it

had happened again? What if somebody had had a heart attack?

Mr. Kingbridge climbed back onto the stage. "Okay, people, let’s just stay calm. I don't think we have any major injuries here, although it looks as if one of our actresses has been hurt. The emergency medical people will take care of her, and they'll check out anyone else who believes they're injured. In the meantime, I'd like the rest of you to leave the auditorium — in an orderly fashion — and proceed to your eighth-period classes."

The assembly was over. I found out later that the actress I had liked, the one with red hair, had fallen off the stage (that was the scream I'd heard) and broken her arm. I also found out later that nobody had a good explanation for why the lights had gone out. The Mischief Knights did not claim responsibility, and nobody else did, either. Was it an accident, or a prank? Nobody knew. But I, and the other BSC members, suspected that the episode was somehow connected to the mystery, and we decided to step up our efforts. If we didn't solve the mystery soon, somebody might really get hurt... or even killed. It was time to follow up every possible clue we had.

That’s how I ended up interviewing Mr. Wetzler.

Now, I'm not usually a very good liar. Still,

in this case, I thought the situation called for a tiny fib. After all, what's the best way to find out more about who somebody is and what they know? Interview them. But in order to do an interview, you have to be a reporter, which I'm not. That’s where the fib comes in. When I called Mr. Wetzler, I told him that I was with the SMS Express, and that I wanted to ask him some questions about the school budget "and its impact on eighth-graders like me." Since the school budget happens to be his favorite subject, he fell for it hook, line, and sinker. An hour later, I met him at the Rosebud Cafe and we sat down to talk.

I had thought ahead and brought a tape recorder, which turned out to be a great idea. As Mr. Wetzler and I sipped tea and chatted, the tape recorder did the work. I didn't have to remember anything. All I had to do later was listen to the tapes and transcribe what we said. I found out some very interesting things, but somehow I didn't think Mr. Wetzler was telling me everything he knew. You can judge for yourself; here's the interview. Mr. Wetzler is JW (for Jerry Wetzler, of course), and you know who SM is.

SM: Thank you for meeting with me today, Mr. Wetzler.

JW: No problem. Hey, is that thing on?

SM: Yes, it is. I record all my interviews. Do you mind?

JW: I guess not.

SM: Let’s begin, then. First of all, I understand that you disapprove of the current school budget.

JW: I do, indeed. There's waste everywhere, and my taxes are paying for it.

SM: Waste? For example — ?

JW: Those ridiculous dances, for, one. They're totally unnecessary, not to mention dangerous.

SM: Dangerous? Are you by any chance referring to the last Halloween masquerade twenty-eight years ago?

JW: That’s right.

SM: Can you tell me more about what happened there?

JW: Uh, I don't really —

SM: Details might be helpful, if you are trying to convince the school to cancel future dances.

JW: Well, a teacher died. A Mr. Brown. In a stampede.

SM: What caused the stampede?

JW: I think it had something to do with that

eighth-grade girl, the one who was jilted at

the dance. She created havoc, and then she

disappeared and never came back to school.

SM: What? Um, I mean — very interesting.

Can you tell me more about this girl?

JW: No, no. I don't remember anything else. I really don't.

SM: But she never came back?

JW: She never came back.

SM: Why — ?

JW: Oh, my goodness, would you look at the time? I have to go. I — I have dinner plans!

SM: Well — well thanks for your time. If you have more time later, I'd like to ask you more —

JW: I'm afraid that won't be possible.

That's it. There's nothing else on the tape. He left the Rosebud so fast I didn't even have a chance to say good-bye. And the weird thing was that it was only about four o'clock. Why would he have to rush off for dinner at that hour?

It was very interesting, but I couldn't figure out what it meant. This -dung about the girl, for example. That was new to me. All I knew was that my friends and I had to keep investigating until we could put the pieces of the puzzle together. And we had to work fast.

Chapter 11.

"How do you find somebody who isn't there? How do you even start looking for somebody who isn't there?"

"What?" Kristy put down her fork and stared at me. "Stacey, what are you babbling about?"

I looked around the table and realized that all of my friends were staring at me. I also realized that I must have spoken out loud when I hadn't meant to. I was so caught up in thinking about how to find out more about the girl Mr. Wetzler had mentioned that I'd barely been aware of the fact that I wasn't alone. I was startled to find myself at a table in the SMS cafeteria surrounded by my friends, who were looking at me with concerned expressions. It was the Tuesday before Halloween weekend. We had spent lots of time during the last two BSC meetings trying to understand how what Mr. Wetzler had told

me fit into our mystery. But nobody had come up with any answers — yet.

"It’s okay, I haven't gone around the bend," I assured them. "I'm just trying to figure something out." I started to peel an orange.

"Well, clue us in," said Abby.

"It's about that girl, the one Mr. Wetzler told me about. That’s the first we've heard about a girl being mixed up in what happened at the dance. It just seems like — "

"Like if we can find out more about her, we'd be able to solve the mystery," Claudia finished. She crumpled up an empty Doritos bag and tossed it at me. "Good thinking, Stace!"