Ann Martin - Kristy Power!

The rest of English class flew by. Ted went over the format for our biographies, reviewing basic concepts such as paragraphs, theme sentences, and conclusions. There wasn't any more talk about his suspension.

When the bell rang, I looked at Cary again. This time, he met my eyes. Reluctantly, he worked his way over to my side of the room. "What time is good for you?" he asked brusquely.

"Anytime," I said. "As long as I can catch the late bus home." We walked to Ted's desk and waited for a chance to look at the schedule. "How's this?" he asked, pointing to a slot between Claudia and Jeremy and Logan and Rachel.

"Fine," I answered with a shrug.

He wrote in our names. "Catch you later, then," he said over his shoulder as he took off.

"Later," I echoed.

For the rest of the day, I tried not to think about Cary. Did that mean I paid attention in my classes? Well, not exactly. Instead, I daydreamed about my Christmas party. During math, I wrote down the names of every CD owned by my siblings and me. Then I narrowed down my choices, trying to pick music that everybody would like. That's not always easy, since my friends have pretty wide-ranging tastes.

During social studies, I pondered the important question of whether nachos or pizza would be better. Either way, I was also planning on serving chips and dip, plus brownies and these outrageous pecan cookies Nannie makes.

And, while I went through the motions of playing basketball in gym class, I thought of all the games I knew, from Scattergories to charades, trying to decide which ones would work to liven things up. I didn't want this to be one of those parties where everyone just sits around making awkward conversation.

The distraction worked. I was able to put Cary aside until the last bell rang. Once school ended, our meeting with Ted was only half an hour away. I decided to spend that time looking over my notes so I'd be able to report on my progress when we sat down for our meeting.

I found a seat in the library and pulled out the notebook where I was keeping the material I'd gathered about Cary. He'd given me the answers to my list of questions the day before, shoving the paper into my hands as we passed in the hall. I'd looked them over enough to know that he hadn't offered any surprising or interesting answers to my boring inquiries. Oh, well. I had the basic facts to work with, and that would have to be enough. But as I stared at the papers in front of me, I couldn't help thinking about the most important fact of all: Cary had been kicked out of his last school. And there was no way anybody but me would ever know.

"Hey." I jumped a little in my seat. Cary was standing in front of me, holding his notebook loosely in one hand. "Ready?" he asked.

I checked my watch. It was almost time for our meeting. "I guess," I answered. He stood there silently as I gathered my papers together. So silently, in fact, that it made me nervous. I kept dropping things, first my pen, then my calculator, then a sheaf of papers. I picked them all up and shoved them into my backpack. When I finally stood up I couldn't take it anymore. "Cary, I'm sorry!" I blurted out. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You can't believe how sorry I am!" He just nodded.

I gave a huge sigh (I felt like screaming, but we were in the library, after all). "Well, thanks for writing out the answers to my questions," I said. "And maybe one of these days, if I'm patient, you'll start speaking to me again." He raised an eyebrow. "Ah, but which one of these days?" Yes! A weird answer. And the eyebrow. He was starting to sound like himself again. Maybe there was hope.

Claudia and Jeremy were just leaving as we arrived at Ted's room. They were talking happily, and I'm not even sure Claudia saw me as she passed by. I knocked lightly on the door.

"Come on in," said Ted. He smiled broadly as we entered. "Kristy, I want to thank you again for that marvelous speech you made. I was very moved by the things you said about me." I felt myself blushing. "Well, they're true," I murmured.

"It wasn't easy to speak in front of that huge crowd," he said. "My knees felt like JellO when I was talking." "Kristy did a good job," Cary announced, taking me by surprise. "She said what all of us feel." He wasn't looking at me while he spoke.

"Thanks!" I couldn't believe he'd said that. But the way he was avoiding my eyes sent a clear message: He might give credit where credit was due, but he still hadn't forgiven me.

"So," said Ted. "Why don't you take a seat and tell me how your projects are going." We each sat down in one of the chairs near his desk. Cary cleared his throat. "Things are going well," he said.

"Great." Ted smiled at me. "You agree with that?" "Sure." I shrugged. "I have most of the information I need. Now I just have to put it together in an entertaining way." "That's the trick," Ted said. "The facts are the easy part. The hard part is making them interesting." Well, yes and no. One of the facts I knew was pretty interesting all by itself. But it was the one that was never going to appear in my finished paper.

"Have you been able to find many secondary sources?" Ted asked.

"I have," said Cary. "Kristy's pretty famous around these parts. I've found articles mentioning her, not only in the school paper but even in the Stoneybrook News." "Excellent." Ted nodded. "How about you, Kristy?" "Well, Cary hasn't lived here very long," I said vaguely, looking down at my notebook. I was thinking that there was probably plenty about him in his hometown newspaper. But I wasn't about to mention that to Ted. "The interviews with his brothers were helpful, though." "Good, good." Ted seemed satisfied, and I felt a little guilty. After all, Cary and I weren't being completely honest with him. "And the fiction part of the project? How's that going? Have you both chosen the books you want to read?" I nodded. "I'm going to read Homecoming" I said. "I hear it's really good." I'd ended up changing my mind about what to read at the last minute.

"I think you'll like it," said Ted. "How about you, Cary?" "I'm reading The Catcher in the Rye. I've already started it. I think Salinger is an awesome writer." "And a controversial one," Ted added with a little grin. The Catcher in the Rye was one of the books that seemed to make people like Mrs. Dow angriest. "Good fiction - and nonfiction - is hard to write, and sometimes even harder to accept." Cary and I both nodded wisely.

"That's it, then," said Ted. "I think our time's just about up. I'm glad to know you're both on target with your projects." He stood up and stretched as we gathered our things. "Speaking of Salinger," he said to Cary, "how's your novel coming? I think I saw his influence in the section you showed me." "It's going okay," Cary muttered.

"I think it's terrific that you can write in notebooks," Ted went on. "I'm addicted to working on my computer myself." Cary just kept stuffing things into his backpack. But I stared at Ted.

Novel?

Notebooks?

Chapter 14.

"Novel?" I whirled around to face Cary as soon as the door to Ted's classroom had closed behind us.

He just looked at me.

"Cary Retlin, you answer me. Was that a novel I read?" He shrugged. "Maybe it will be someday," he said. "Right now it's just a bunch of notes and stuff." He was trying to act as if nothing unusual were going on. I could have wrung his neck. "I thought that was your diary!" He shrugged again. "I never said it was." I saw a tiny half smile beginning to form on his lips.

That did it.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You are a creep," I began. "You made me think - I can't believe - "I couldn't even spit the words out. "You know what?" I finally managed to say. "You're a jerk." I turned and walked away as quickly as I could. I heard him call my name once, but I ignored him. At that moment, I had to put some distance between Cary Retlin and me.