Ann Martin - Kristy's Mystery Admirer

Our game was set to begin at noon that day. But I needed to arrive earlier, so my family left at 10:45. We set out in two cars — everybody, every single person in my family from

Emily to Nannie. And we were loaded down with equipment, food, and the refreshment tables.

When we reached the grounds of Stoney-brook Elementary, we were the first ones there, but I knew that a crowd would gather quickly and soon the bleachers would be full.

I was right. By about twenty minutes after eleven, people were streaming onto the playing field. Charlie and Sam, who had volunteered to man the refreshment stand, were already doing business. The Krushers were gathering around me, anxious, and eyeing the Bashers as they appeared. The Bashers, as usual, were impressive. They're bigger than my Krushers, for the most part, and have T-shirts and baseball caps. (Matching, of course, which was what we were hoping to earn enough money for that day.) Then there are the Basher cheerleaders — four girls with actual cheerleaders' outfits — pleated skirts, the whole bit. The best that Vanessa, Haley, and Charlotte usually do are Krushers T-shirts, matching flared jean skirts, white knee socks, and sneakers. On the day of the World Series, though, they were The Three Stooges. Nobody knew quite what to make of them. At least they drew attention to themselves.

I hoped their wigs wouldn't fall off. Or their pants.

I was just about to give the Krushers a pep talk when, for some reason, I glanced up into the bleachers.

My eyes landed on Cokie and her friends!

What on earth were they doing at our World Series? None of them had brothers or sisters on either softball team, and they certainly were not friends of ours. As far as I was concerned their appearance at the game was suspicious. Why were they there? Were they going to make fun of the Krushers? Or me? I know I'm not as cool as they think they are, but that wasn't any reason to come ruin the game.

I almost went into the stands to talk to them, but then I thought better of it. My Krushers had surrounded me. They needed me. And if Cokie made any trouble, then my BSC friends would take care of them. I hoped.

"Okay, you guys," I said to the kids. "We've still got some time before the game. I'd like you to do some warm-ups. Nicky and David Michael, practice pitching to each other. Jake, you pitch some balls to these five," (I pulled a group of kids away from the others) "so they can practice hitting."

When all the kids were busy, I snagged

Mary Anne and pointed Cokie out to her. "What do you think she's doing here?"

Mary Anne shrugged. She wasn't nearly as suspicious as I was, despite what Cokie had done to her in the past. After a moment she said, "I think Cokie's just going to watch the game. Grace and the others, too."

"Oh, you know darn well that's not — "

"OW!"

Mary Anne and I were interrupted by a cry. Without even looking, I knew it had come from Jackie, the walking disaster. "Oh, brother," I muttered.

I turned around.

Jackie was rubbing his elbow, but he seemed all right.

I sighed. I hoped the Krushers were really ready for the World Series. They could beat the Bashers again if they tried hard enough. I knew they could. Their record was poor, but they could overcome it.

"What?" said Mary Anne. "Is anything wrong?"

I hesitated. "No," I said at last.

Mary Anne returned to Shannon and Logan and Claud and the rest of my friends. I searched for Bart and found him breaking up a fight between two of his toughest Bashers. When things had calmed down, we smiled at

each other. Boy, was it hard to like a guy and want to cream his softball team at the same time.

"Hi," said Bart.

"Hi," I replied.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"As we'll ever be. Are you?"

"I guess so. My team is all keyed up. They can't stop thinking about being beaten by the Krashers."

I couldn't help it. Inwardly, I gloated.

"So," I said, "same rules as before? A seven-inning game, Gabbie gets to hit a wiffle ball and stand closer to the pitcher, and we toss a coin to see which team goes to bat first?"

"Fine with me . . . Coach," replied Bart, smiling.

"Oh, and just remind your team that we have to sign to Matt Braddock."

"You got it."

Bart was off then, in answer to a kid who'd been pestering him for help with something for at least five minutes.

I turned around, all set to call the Krushers together for a pep talk — and ran right into Cokie.

"Hi, Kristy," she said a little too casually, if you know what I mean.

"Hi," I replied coolly.

"So how are things?"

"What things?" I replied

"You know. Things. Life."

"Fine."

"Is your team up for the game?"

"Cokie, what are you doing here?" I demanded.

"I just want to see the game."

"Why?"

"Oh, to show my support for your team."

I rolled my eyes. "Why?"

"Can't you accept it, Kristy? I'm not your enemy."

Well, she certainly wasn't my best friend.

"Anyway," Cokie went on, "I thought you might need a little extra cheering. You've looked sort of depressed lately. I want your team to win."

"I haven't been depressed!" I cried. "I've even got a boyfriend. He's coming to the Hallo ween Hop with me."

"Really?" said Cokie. "You must like each other a lot."

I drew myself up. I knew I was showing off, but I couldn't help saying, "We plan to spend our lives together."

I'd thought Cokie might screech, "You mean, you're getting married?" Instead she said, "Aw. That's nice. Eternal togetherness?"

Cokie caught what she'd said before I did, and she blushed. That was when I remembered. "Eternal togetherness." That had been a phrase from one of the lunatic notes. "You wrote the scary letters!" I exclaimed.

It was too late. Cokie knew she'd given herself away. She couldn't even think of anything to say. She just began to back away from me. I may be short, but I'm strong and good at athletics. Every kid in my grade knows it.

"Just a second," I said through gritted teeth. I reached out and caught Cokie's sleeve. "You stay right here. I have some questions for you."

Cokie looked so afraid that I knew she'd answer anything I asked her — and answer truthfully.

"Did you send all those letters — all the frightening ones?" I demanded.

Cokie looked at the ground. "Yes." I still hadn't let go of her sleeve and she tried to squirm away, but I held on tightly.

"Why?"

"Because of ... because of what you and your friends did to me and my friends in the graveyard. You made us look like fools in front of Logan."

"Too bad. You started the whole thing by trying to make Mary Anne look like a fool in

front of Logan." Cokie didn't say anything, so I went on. "How did you know what to make the letters look like? They match Bart's perfectly. Stickers and everything."

"Well, you weren't too subtle about Bart's letters. You brought them to school and showed them to your friends at lunchtime. Practically the whole cafeteria saw those letters." Cokie made it sound like her letters were my fault.

I let go of her sleeve then. I was a jumble of feelings. First of all, I was relieved. There was no one after me. I didn't have to worry about being kidnapped anymore. Second, I was furious with Cokie. "By Monday," I said, "the whole school is going to know what you did. And maybe everyone at Stoneybrook Day School, too. Think about that. If you felt like a fool before, it won't be anything compared to now."

Cokie ran away. She snagged Grace, Lisa, and Bebe in the bleachers, and the four of them left in a hurry.

More than anything, swhat I wanted to do then was rush to my friends and tell them the news, but it was almost noon and time for the game. I found that I was filled with rage at Cokie, and therefore filled with energy, almost with exuberance.