Ann Martin - Kristy Power!

"Well, well, well," said Cary, glancing around as he entered my room. "I guess I now know just about all there is to know about the real Kristy Thomas." "You wish," I said.

"I know all the good stuff." He raised that eyebrow and added the smirk. "Like how you used to call your baby dolls Eenie and Beenie." "Big deal," I shot back.

"And how you once cried because you thought the moon was going to crash into your backyard." I shrugged. If that was the worst he'd heard, I wasn't worried.

The smirk was still there. "Then there's the time you had an 'accident' on Santa's lap," he continued. His eyes were sparkling.

I drew in a breath. Did I want my classmates to know I'd peed on Santa? I shook myself. I could handle it. After all, they were kids once too. I made my face blank to show Cary I didn't care.

"And, of course, there's the Spaghetti Episode," Cary said. I noticed that he was watching my face carefully. He was hoping for a reaction.

I tried to hold myself back, but I couldn't. "You're not going to write about thatV I cried.

"Are you kidding? Of course I am. It's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard." "Cary Retlin," I said, "you better not - " He held up his hands. "You said you had nothing to hide, didn't you?" I might have said it, but I guess I didn't mean it. The Spaghetti Episode is my secret. I'm not even going to reveal it here. "Cary," I said warningly.

"I think I'll lead off with it." He stroked his chin.

That was too much. "Look," I said desperately. "That was a long time ago. It's ancient history." "I think it explains a lot," said Cary. "About your personality, I mean." He was being playful, but suddenly I couldn't take it anymore.

"Well, at least I didn't get kicked out of school!" I blurted out.

"What?" Cary was staring at me. "What are you talking about?" "I know why you had to move to Stoneybrook," I said. Suddenly the whole mood had changed. The joking was over.

"Why I had to - " Cary looked puzzled. He paused, and I could practically see him figuring it out. Then a shadow passed over his face. "You read my notebook?" he asked.

He looked hurt. That surprised me. I would have expected him to look angry, and he was starting to. But the pained look was unexpected. I felt a knot form in my stomach. What I had done was wrong, so wrong.

"I - I didn't mean to," I started to explain. "It was on your desk - " "Don't bother," he said coldly. "I can't believe you did that, Kristy. How could you?" "I'm sorry - "I began.

He made a motion with his hand, cutting me off. "You know what? Now I know the real Kristy Thomas. And she's a total jerk." He walked out of my room, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 9.

I didn't sleep much that night. I tossed and turned, brooding about the situation with Cary. I would spend half an hour convincing myself that what I'd done wasn't so bad. After all, the notebook had been lying in plain sight. And I would never have started reading if I'd known it was a journal. And .. . well, you can imagine the rest. I had plenty of excuses. But they didn't hold up well. For the next half hour, I would berate myself for being such a snoop, for betraying Cary's trust, for throwing his past in his face during a stupid argument. I could see both sides of the situation. And I knew that from Cary's side, what I had done was unforgivable.

For awhile, at least.

I was hoping that Cary would come around eventually. I mean, don't get me wrong. He'll always be my archenemy. But it wasn't any fun when he was so mad at me. The truth was that I'd come to see that Cary wasn't such a bad guy.

As long as you kept him away from the computer.

Really, other than the criminal thing, Cary was an okay guy. Sure, he liked to antagonize my friends and me, and he was always acting superior and smug. But underneath it all, he was, well, an interesting guy.

Other than the criminal thing….

That was pretty hard to forget.

But what I'd done to him was even harder.

Before homeroom on Friday morning, I looked for Cary in the halls. I guess I wanted to try to apologize again. But I didn't have the chance, because Cary was nowhere in sight. Was he avoiding me? Probably. I didn't see him after homeroom either. Or between first and second periods, or second and third. Normally our paths cross at least a few times during the morning, so I knew he must be making an effort to keep his distance.

I hadn't talked to any of my friends about what had happened. How could I? If I did, I'd spread Cary's secret even further. Mary Anne could sense that something was wrong, but after she'd asked twice and I hadn't answered, she knew better than to push me to talk.

Finally it was time for English class. Cary couldn't avoid me any longer. When I walked into our classroom, I noticed that he was sitting in a new seat, across the room from the row we usually sit in. He didn't look up when I entered.

Okay, I thought. Be that way. I took my usual seat.

"Hello, class," said the woman who was sitting at the teacher's desk. I'd barely noticed her when I'd arrived, partly because she was a completely unnoticeable person. She was medium height with medium-brown hair. She wasn't fat and she wasn't thin. She was wearing a beige skirt, a lighter-beige blouse, a darker-beige jacket, and brown shoes. "I'm Ms. Dewey, your substitute," she said in a thin, colorless voice. She smiled uncertainly. "I'll be teaching this class until - until..." she broke off. "Well, for awhile, anyway." We all just sat there and looked at her. She seemed so absolutely boring that not even Alan Gray could think of anything funny to say.

This is who they gave us in exchange for Ted Morley? I thought.

I felt like crying.

"So!" Ms. Dewey smiled brightly. "Let's all take out a piece of paper, shall we?" "What for?" called a voice from the back.

Ms. Dewey adjusted her beige glasses. "Well, for an assignment. I thought we would spend our class time working on a short essay today." "We?" That was Cary. "Are you going to write one too?" "What's it supposed to be about?" asked Cokie in a tired tone. "What we did over Thanksgiving vacation or something?" We're used to substitutes who give meaningless assignments. And normally it doesn't bother me much. But for this woman to come along after I'd become used to Ted . . . well, let's just say it was disappointing.

"Oh, no," said Ms. Dewey in answer to Cokie's question. "That would be silly. I thought we would do something more in line with the biography unit you're working on. For example, I thought we might write about 'My Favorite Historical Figure.' Her fingers made little quotation marks in the air as she announced the title. Then she smiled hopefully at us.

Everybody groaned.

Her smiled disappeared. Her hands fluttered as she tried to figure out what to do next. "I think if you just try, you might find it interesting," she began.

"Not! "called out Alan.

"I second that," yelled another boy.

"Oh," Ms. Dewey said, almost to herself. Now she was twisting her hands. I felt sorry for her. After all, it wasn't her fault that Ted had been suspended. And it wasn't her fault that she was the beige-est, most boring person in the universe.

I felt sorry for her- but I felt sorrier for myself and for the rest of the class. It wasn't fair! What had we done to deserve this? No Ted. A boring substitute. A beyond-boring assignment.

Wait a minute.

Was that true? Was there really nothing we could do? Were we going to let people like Mrs. Dow decide what our English class would be about?

I sat straight up in my seat. And without even raising my hand, I started to talk. "You know," I said, "this just doesn't seem fair. I mean, where's Ted? Why isn't our teacher here?" Ms. Dewey looked shocked. "Why, he - he - " I waved my hand. "No, I know where he is," I said. "What I mean is, why are we letting it happen?" Kids were looking at me. They either thought I was crazy - or right. "Look," I continued, turning around to meet as many eyes as I could. "We should do something about this. We shouldn't just sit here and take it." Kids were still looking at me. I had their attention, all right. But did I have their support?