Ann Martin - Stacey And The Haunted Masquerade

The band was already playing, and plenty of people were on the dance floor. I just stood there for a while, letting my eyes become used to the darkness as I scoped out the costumes people were wearing.

"Look, there's Cokie," said Kristy, pointing to a girl in an old-fashioned bonnet and pinafore. She carried a hooked staff with ribbons tied around it. "Little Bo Peep, my eye," snorted Kristy. "That’s a laugh. She should be dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West."

I couldn't help laughing, too.

"There's Grace," said Claudia. "She looks cute. Who's her date? What a hunk!"

Sure enough, there was Grace (dressed as Snow White), dancing with an incredibly cute guy who was dressed as Prince Charming. I saw them dance right by Cokie, but Grace didn't even glance at her former best friend.

"So Ted really does exist," I murmured to myself. I was happy for Grace, and it was a relief to be absolutely certain that I'd been wrong to suspect her of the vandalism.

I saw Todd and Rick standing by the refreshments table, next to the steaming punch bowl. Todd had come as Fred Flintstone, and

Rick was Barney Rubble. Their costumes were a riot.

It was so much fun to see everyone dressed up that I almost forgot my fears about the evening. But then Mr. Rothman danced by, dressed as a football player (including helmet and shoulder pads). He gave me a look over his date's shoulder, and I knew he hadn't forgotten. Then he and his date (a substitute home ec teacher named Ms. Bryan, who was dressed as a vampire, in a long, black cloak with a hood) whirled away, leaving me with a queasy feeling.

Liz Connor might be somewhere in that crowd, and if she was, she could be ready to make trouble. Or the troublemaker might be Mr. Wetzter, or the Mischief Knights. Or — gulp — the ghost of Mr. Brown. And there wasn't just a middle school dance at stake. This was serious business. If one of those people pulled a prank and the crowd panicked, people could be hurt or even killed.

It had happened before.

I was lost in thought, but Robert brought me back to reality by asking me to dance. I hadn't told him anything about my fears, since I wanted this night to be fun. I just smiled at him and followed him onto the dance floor. Robert is an excellent dancer. I think it's be-

cause he's a- good athlete and knows how to move his body without feeling self-conscious. We danced to three fast songs until I was out of breath, and then settled into a slow one. I rested my head on Robert's shoulder and relaxed. For a few sweet moments, I forgot everything but the feeling of Robert's arms around me.

Then I felt his arms tighten. "Whoa!" he said. "Check it out!"

I lifted my head and looked around. "What?" I asked.

"That guy's costume is great," he said, nodding toward a figure looming nearby.

I looked closer and realized it was Cary Retlin, dancing with Sabrina Bouvier, who was dressed as Cleopatra. Gary's face barely showed through a peephole in the huge papier-mâché horse head he wore. "A horse?" I asked.

"I think he's supposed to be a chess piece," said Robert. "You know, a what’s-it-called?"

"A knight!" I said, gasping. "That’s Cary Retlin, and he's supposed to be a knight." Suddenly, it all became dear. The mischief that had gone on during recent weeks had started after Cary moved to Stoneybrook and came to SMS. Cary Retlin was the leader of the Mischief Knights! He had to be.

Then I remembered something else. I re-

member how I'd laughed at him his first day in my English class when he fell off his chair. Did he resent me for that? Maybe he did, and maybe he knew I was on the decorations committee for the dance. If so, he had a motive for sabotaging our hard work.

"Robert," I whispered. "Let’s switch partners with them. I want to talk to Gary."

"Sure," Robert said. "I always wanted to dance with Cleopatra." He tapped Cary on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked, and before Cary could answer, Robert had taken his place with Sabrina, leaving Cary standing there alone. I held out my arms, and soon we were dancing together. The band shifted into a faster song.

“I know your secret," I whispered to him.

He didn't answer. He just spun me around the dance floor. He was a pretty good dancer.

"I know you're a Mischief Knight," I said, after we'd spun past the stage where the band was playing.

"Do you?" he asked. I couldn't see his face, but I had a feeling he was smiling.

"You're the one who thought up all those pranks," I said. "Aren't you?"

"I don't know," he said teasingly. "Am I?"

It was infuriating. "You are!" I cried.

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not. Either

way, you have no way of proving anything."

He was right. I had a feeling that SMS, and the BSC, hadn't heard the last of the Mischief Knights.

Robert cut back in on Cary and me before I had a chance to ask any more questions, such as whether or not the Mischief Knights were responsible for vandalizing our dance decorations. It was probably just as well, because he never would have given me a straight answer anyway.

Robert noticed that I was agitated, but when he asked me what was the matter, I told him I was okay. I was, too. Or at least, that's what I told myself. Robert and I danced to every song for a long time after that, which was fine with me. I didn't want to talk, and I didn't want to think. All I wanted was to have a good time and to end the dance without anyone getting hurt.

The evening flew by in a blur. I know my friends were having fun, because every so often I'd see one of them dance by, smiling. Even Mr. Rothman was having fun, from what I could tell. He and Ms. Bryan in her long black cloak were dancing up a storm.

Finally, the band announced that they were going to take a short break, and that when they came back they'd play for the last dance of the night, when everyone would take off

their masks and "reveal their identities." That was kind of silly, since everybody already knew who everybody else was, but it would still be fun. I headed for the girls' room to make sure my makeup hadn't melted underneath my mask.

When I walked in, I saw Ms. Bryan standing near the towel dispenser, hugging herself. All she was wearing was a camisole and leggings, and she looked cold — and upset.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm fine," she said. 'It’s just that somebody spilled onion dip all over my cloak, and then followed me here. When I took it off to dean it, they grabbed it and ran off. Now I'm stuck in here. I can't go back out there dressed like this."

I stared at her. "Somebody stole your cloak?" I said slowly.

Just then, I heard the music start up in the gym. The last dance was beginning. Something clicked in my mind. All the pieces of the puzzle flew into place. "Oh, no!" I cried.

I dashed into the gym and stopped short when I saw Mr. Rothman dancing with a woman in a long, black cloak! I ran toward them, without even thinking about what I was going to do or say, but before I could reach them the bandleader announced that it was time for "the unmasking."

"Would everybody please reveal your identity when I count to three," he said. The drummer began a drumroll, and the lights went out. The idea was that when the lights came back on, everybody would be revealed for who they really were. I knew it was planned. This was not a blackout. But all the same, it was frightening — especially when somebody screamed.

The lights flickered on as suddenly as they'd gone off, and I looked over at the spot where I'd seen Mr. Rothman. He was still there, only now he was as white as a sheet. Standing in front of him was a woman wearing a tattered and torn pink fairy princess costume. A black cloak lay at her feet.

Michael Rothman stared at Liz Connor, and she stared back at him with a wild gleam in her eyes. She smiled slowly. Even from where I was standing, it was obvious that Liz Connor was very, very crazy.