Ann Martin - Jessi And The Jewel Thieves

Juilliard is kind of across from all those buildings, and you can enter it by climbing a set of stairs near the fountain. The school is built out of that same white marble, so it looks as if it belongs with the big concert halls.

I stood looking at the scene for a moment. I get shivers whenever I see Lincoln Center, because dance and music seem so alive there. I mean, it's like the center of the universe for dancers and musicians. You know, I'm not always positive I want to be a ballerina when I grow up, but when I look at Lincoln Center I feel there's nothing else I'd rattier be. Just to see all the people flocking into the theatres and concert halls, eager to listen and watch, makes being a ballerina seem very important. I mean, people need beauty in their lives, and ballet can certainly provide that.

Wow! I'm getting philosophical here, and a little off the track. I just wanted to give you an idea of how exciting attending an event at Lincoln Center can be.

Anyway, the Walters and I walked up the stairs and into Juilliard. "I think the theatre's this way," said Mr. Walter, leading us down a hall. Quint’s performance was going to be held in the Juilliard Theater, which was built just for student performances. "Here we are," said Mr. Walter, stopping at a set of doors. Lots of other people were clustered around the entrance. Some were dressed up, like the Walters and me, but others were wearing T-shirts and jeans. I figured most of the T-shirt people were Juilliard students. I peeked into the theatre. It was beautiful!

It's a small theatre — it holds maybe two or three hundred people — but it's really pretty. It has a red carpet and red upholstered seats, and wood paneling on the walls.

"The panels are for acoustics," said Mr. Walter, glancing over my shoulder to see what I was looking at. He pointed at these wooden panels that stuck out of the walls near the stage. "You know, so music sounds good in here."

I nodded. "It's a neat theatre," I said.

"Ready to go in?" he asked.

"I have to go to the bathroom," whispered Morgan loudly.

I had to go too, but I wasn't about to announce it. "I'll take her," I said. "I noticed the bathrooms down at the end of the hall."

"We'll go ahead and sit down then," said Mr. Walter. "Our seats are in row D in the upper level. I'm sure you'll be able to find us."

Morgan and I hurried to the bathroom and used it (I took the opportunity to check the mirror to make sure my braids weren't coming out), and then headed back to the theatre. As we approached the double doors, I looked ahead at the crowd of people and stopped short.

"What's the matter, Jessi?" asked Morgan.

"N-nothing," I answered. "Let's go on in." I hurried her into the theatre, my heart pounding. Guess what I'd seen? Or maybe I should say who? It was Red. Or at least someone who looked an awful lot like him. I couldn't believe my eyes. Could he and Frank really be following me? And would they actually follow me to a ballet performance?

I found my seat and settled down. Then, as I waited for the curtain to rise, I tried to relax. I told myself I was imagining things. I told myself jewel thieves don't go to the ballet. I told myself I was safe with the Walters. And you know what? It worked. Kind of. At least, when the curtain did rise, and Quint and his classmates came out, I was able to forget about Frank and Red and allow myself to be swept up in the beauty of the dancing. These students were good. And I mean really really good. They looked like professionals.

Mrs. Walter leaned over and whispered to me, "Doesn't Quint look terrific?" Her eyes looked kind of teary. "I'm so proud of him," she added.

I nodded. "Me too," I said. And it was true. I was incredibly proud of Quint. I was also jealous! He's getting such great training and it really shows. He'll have no trouble becoming a professional if that's what he wants.

The first half of the program seemed to go by in a flash, and before I knew it the curtain had lowered for the intermission. I knew I

should stay in my seat. I knew that if Frank or Red were there I shouldn't show my face. And I knew I'd only get scared if I saw them. But somehow, I couldn't help myself. "Excuse me," I said, standing up. "I need some air." I went out to the lobby, knowing I could be making a big mistake.

Guess what? I was right. It was a big mistake. I saw the man again and I was sure he was Red. How was I sure? Because he was with Frank. They were standing at the edge of the crowd, and I couldn't help staring at them. Until I noticed that Frank was looking straight back at me! Oh, my lord. That did it.

I practically ran back to my seat. And the rest of Quint's performance was, unfortunately, wasted on me. I just couldn't concentrate on the dancing. I kept wondering where Frank and Red were sitting, and why they'd come to the theatre. I searched every face in the audience, but I didn't see them. That made me nervous, since I figured they must be sitting behind me. Yikes!

Finally, the program ended. I joined the rest of the audience in a standing ovation, but my heart wasn't in it. I kept peering behind me until I saw Mrs. Walter giving me a funny glance. As we filed out of the theatre, I kept a sharp lookout for Frank and Red, but they were nowhere to be seen.

The Walters and I went backstage to see Quint, and everybody made a huge fuss over him. I did my best to act normal and to appear excited about his performance, but all I was waiting for was a chance to get Quint to myself for a moment. When I did, I blurted out what I'd seen.

"Now do you think we should go to the police?" I said. "I mean Frank and Red are following us. This is getting scary!"

"Can you prove they're following us?" asked Quint.

"Well — no."

"Then it’s not time to go to the police yet. Look, I'll tell you what. Come to my house first thing tomorrow, and we'll follow them for as long as it takes. Okay?"

"Okay," I said. "And — Quint? You were really awesome."

He looked down at his shoes. "Did you really think so?" he asked shyly.

"I really did," I said. And I meant it.

Chapter 12.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of rustling paper. I yawned and rubbed my eyes and looked over at Stacey, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed. "Morning! What are you doing?" I asked.

"Reading the Sunday New York Times," she said. "It's kind of a New York tradition to spend Sunday morning this way."

"Can I have the funnies?" I asked.

She giggled. "Sorry. No funnies. The Times is a serious paper. No funnies. Or horoscopes. Or Ann Landers."

"So what do you read in there?" I asked.

"Oh, there's lots to read. Right now I'm reading about a new photography exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. Dad and I may go see it today, after we have brunch."

Stacey is so cosmopolitan.

"I have to go to Quint's," I said. "Today's our last chance to try to figure out what Frank

and Red are up to." I'd told Stacey about seeing them at the performance the night before. She had been a little worried, but she seemed to think Quint and I could try some more detective work, as long as we were careful.

"Mind if I call Becca again?" I asked. "I'll leave your dad some money for the phone bill."

"Go ahead," said Stacey. "I know you're worried about her."

After I'd washed my face and brushed my teeth, I dialed the Pikes' number. Mallory answered. "Hi," she said. "How's your weekend in the big city going?"

I told her about Quint's show, and about seeing the jewel thieves there. She was fascinated. "I am so jealous," she said. "You're in the most exciting city in the world, you get to eat lunch at the Plaza and go to performances at Juilliard, and you have a mystery to solve." Mal loves mysteries, and I knew it was driving her crazy to be left out of this one.