Kristy and the Kidnapper

  Everybody cracked up. In fact, we were laughing so hard that I think we missed the first knock on the door. But we didn’t miss the second. And we definitely didn’t miss the sound of Mrs. Simon’s voice calling, “Girls? Everything okay in there?”

  Oh. My. Lord.

  I clapped a hand over my mouth. Lucas jumped to his feet, looking around wildly. Melissa gave a little shriek. Abby was the only one to keep her head.

  “Lucas,” she hissed. “Into the closet.”

  Lucas gave her a wild-eyed stare. “Closet?” he repeated in a whisper, as if he had never heard the word before.

  “Over there!” she hissed, pointing toward the door next to the bathroom. “Quick!”

  “Girls?” Mrs. Simon knocked again.

  “Coming!” sang out Abby. “Just a sec!”

  Lucas finally began to move. He headed toward the closet and, quietly turning the doorknob, opened the door and let himself in. He closed the door behind him. Abby, on her way to let Mrs. Simon in, checked to make sure the closet door would stay shut. Then she strode to the hall door and flung it open. “Hi!” she said brightly.

  “Hi,” Mrs. Simon responded warily. “What’s going on in here? I’m hearing a lot of noise from this room.”

  “We’re just playing Scrabble,” explained Abby, waving toward the board.

  As Mrs. Simon turned her head to see, Melissa reached out — lightning-quick — to grab the tray that held Lucas’s letters. Yay, Melissa, I thought.

  “We’re too keyed up to sleep,” I said. My heart had finally calmed down a little and I could trust myself to speak again. “You know, because of the finals tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s understandable,” Mrs. Simon said. “But to do your best, you need some sleep. I think you should finish up your game and hop into bed.”

  “Okay,” Melissa said meekly. “You’re probably right. In fact, I feel pretty tired all of a sudden.” She gave a big stretch and a yawn.

  Don’t overact, I thought. But then I found myself yawning too. Fake or not, Melissa’s yawn was contagious.

  “All right, girls. I think you’ll find you can sleep now.” Mrs. Simon smiled at us. “I want to wish you good luck for tomorrow. Whoever wins, I know you’ll do SMS proud. You already have.”

  “Thank you,” we chorused.

  Finally, finally she left.

  As the door closed behind her, the three of us threw ourselves on our beds. “Aaaaughhh!” Melissa squeaked. “That was so close.”

  The closet door opened a crack. “Can I come out now?” Lucas whispered.

  “Wait a second,” Abby hissed. “Just until we’re sure she’s gone.”

  We listened intently until we heard the sound of another door closing, down the hall.

  “Okay,” said Abby.

  Lucas emerged from the closet, white as a sheet. “I’m out of here,” he said. “That was scary. We could have gotten kicked out of the competition.”

  “And all for a nerd,” I couldn’t help saying. We started giggling again, but Abby shushed us.

  Lucas left, and the three of us settled into our beds and turned out the lights. “That was actually kind of fun,” Abby said into the dark.

  “It was,” I admitted. “I have to remember to thank Agent Melendez for not ratting us out.”

  “He’s cool,” Melissa said.

  There was a good feeling in the room. Abby and I had actually managed to forget about the debates.

  Until Melissa brought them up. “Good luck tomorrow, you guys,” she whispered. “I’m going to come see which of you can convince me.”

  “It won’t take much,” Abby had to say. “I mean, you already know that dogs are cooler than cats, right?”

  “Right,” I said, feeling all my competitiveness rise up again. “But I don’t want a cool pet. I want a good pet. And cats are the best.”

  Melissa sighed loudly. “I’m sorry I brought it up,” she said. “Good night, you two.”

  “Good night,” I answered. Abby just rolled over to face the wall. I lay there for a long time before I fell asleep, thinking that I could hardly wait until the finals were over.

  I woke with a start the next morning, before our wake-up call came. I’d tossed and turned in the night, and every time I fell asleep I ended up dreaming about debates and debating. Mostly I dreamed about arguing with Abby, but some of the dreams were kind of weird. In one of them, a big golden retriever was standing at a podium, making point after point to his opponent, a Siamese cat.

  Who won? Good question. Unfortunately, a fight broke out before the closing arguments were finished. The audience — all cats and dogs — began brawling.

  That wasn’t going to happen at our debate. No, we’d be civilized and proper. No scratching, no biting, no barking, no yowling. Just a war of words. Were my weapons ready? I wasn’t sure. The only thing I was sure of was that I had a major case of butterflies in my stomach.

  The finals were a big deal. Instead of taking place at the hotel, in one of the debate rooms, they were to be held at the Lincoln Memorial. We’d be onstage, not only in front of our peers, but in front of an audience drawn by the event, as well as any tourists who happened by. If that weren’t enough to make me nervous, there was the building itself. It’s an imposing place, with its gigantic columns (thirty-six of them, to symbolize the thirty-six states in the Union when Lincoln died) and the huge sculpture of Lincoln himself, so dignified and serious. The idea of his gaze on me while I debated was definitely intimidating.

  I glanced at Abby, who was still sound asleep. Was she as nervous as I was? I doubted it. She seemed so confident, so sure of herself. Of course, it helped that she was on the “dog” side.

  I went over the opening argument our team had worked out for the finals. I’d be our first debater that afternoon, and I wanted to be ready.

  Cats, I said to myself, are clean, self-sufficient animals. They are friendly. They are useful, when they catch mice. They are beautiful to look at and pleasant to stroke or hold. All true. But kind of — weak. What if my opponent brought up the training issue? Most dogs at least know how to sit and shake hands, lie down, and come when called. But what do cats know how to do? They’re not so easy to train. Of course, I had to remember that if my opponent brought that up, I had a good rebuttal: Cats are too intelligent to be bothered with learning silly tricks.

  Just then, the phone rang, jolting me fully awake. I jumped out of bed to answer it. It was our wake-up call. The day had officially begun.

  Melissa and Abby stretched and yawned. I went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. “It’s a beautiful day,” I reported.

  “Yahoo,” said Abby, rolling over and putting her pillow over her head. “What time did we finally go to sleep?”

  “I don’t know,” Melissa answered from her bed, “but I’m still tired.”

  I was too nervous to be tired. “What are you guys wearing today?” I asked, studying the three clean blouses I had left.

  Melissa sat up in bed. “I packed a skirt,” she told me. “I’ll probably wear that, with a white blouse.”

  Melissa’s finals were being held at the Lincoln Memorial too. All the finals would be there. We’d have a chance to see some of the advanced debaters at work before our turn came.

  “I think I’ll wear my bathrobe,” Abby mumbled from beneath her pillow. “It’s comfy and flattering, and after I’m done debating I can go right back to bed.”

  “Abby,” I said, “come on. It’s time to get up.”

  She moaned. “Oh, all right.”

  Ten minutes later, Abby popped out of the shower, wide awake and raring to go. “Aaah,” she said, rubbing her hair with a towel, “that’s more like it.”

  She didn’t seem nervous at all.

  Which was psyching me out.

  I decided to dress as quickly as possible and find David and Kai for a Team DKK pep rally.

  I found them having breakfast, sitting at a table with Mr. Hawthorne. I joined them,
inviting Agent Melendez (my ever-present shadow) to sit with us as well. He turned me down, taking an unobtrusive seat nearby instead.

  “We agents are used to sitting alone,” Mr. Hawthorne told me. “Don’t worry about him.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m just getting — kind of attached.”

  “I wish David had stayed a little more attached to Agent Sanford,” he muttered with a little smile.

  “Me too,” I answered quietly, smiling back. “Oh, well. It’s only for another day. Then David will be safe at home.”

  Mr. Hawthorne nodded. “I’ll be glad of it, and so will his mother.”

  “What are you guys mumbling about?” asked David as he buttered a piece of toast.

  “Nothing!” I said brightly. “So, are we all ready?”

  “Definitely,” Kai answered. “We have this one in the bag.”

  David nodded. “Kai’s right. We have nothing to worry about. We’re going to trample the competition.”

  “Yeah!” I said, putting more enthusiasm into the word than I actually felt. “Right! Go, DKK!”

  “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” asked David.

  Oh, shoot. Was it that obvious?

  I nodded.

  “Don’t be. We’re a team, remember? We’ll be together every step of the way.”

  “Just keep your head,” Kai advised. “Remember, it’s facts and figures. Let the evidence speak for itself.”

  I nodded again, as if they were convincing me. But my butterflies were still there, fluttering around the toast I’d just eaten.

  My nerves never did go away. Instead, the nervous feeling just kept building as we walked to the Lincoln Memorial, found seats, and watched the advanced debaters go at it. They were amazing. They spoke so clearly and convincingly that I had no trouble following their arguments, even though the subject was way over my head. Would I ever be able to debate that well?

  Before I knew it, our turn had come. After a quick three-way handshake for good luck, David, Kai, and I took our places on the stage. Abby and her teammates took theirs too. My eyes met hers as she positioned herself, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Then one of the judges welcomed us and introduced us to the crowd. “These young people are just starting out in debate,” he said. “But they’ve already impressed us with their skill.” He turned to face us. “Good luck to all of you.” Then he called for the first debaters to present their opening arguments.

  The audience applauded. I felt as if I were in a dream, cut off from the real world. I stood and walked to the podium on our side of the stage.

  Then a terrible thing happened.

  Abby stood up too — and went to the podium on her team’s side.

  I hadn’t pictured myself actually arguing against Abby. I mean, I knew we were up against her team, but somehow I thought I’d be facing one of the others. Abby and I were not a good combination. We’d argued way too much over the last few days. As I watched her settle her notes on the podium, I knew it was going to be hard to keep a lid on my emotions.

  And it was.

  During my opening argument, I heard myself slipping into a tone of voice that was not even-tempered and cool. I sounded defensive and angry, but I couldn’t help myself. This debate was personal. It had become that way over the last few days, whether I’d meant it to or not. “Even though some people can’t admit it,” I found myself saying, as I glared at Abby, “cats are smarter than dogs. In fact, cats are smarter than some people!” I gave Abby a meaningful glance.

  Abby sounded just like me. Everything she said had this little edge to it. It wasn’t a debate anymore. It was a fight.

  Between my opening argument and our chance for rebuttal, David and Kai tried to calm me down. “You’re not doing yourself any favors,” David said. “That kind of emotion won’t make the judges happy.”

  “Remember,” put in Kai. “Stick to the evidence.”

  They helped me work on my rebuttal — we had five minutes to pull it together — and then I was facing Abby again. This time I was a little more polite, a little more relaxed. So was she. Her teammates must have given her the same speech mine gave me.

  Finally, finally it was over. The audience applauded again, and Abby and I nodded at each other and sat down with our teams. I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath. I glanced at Abby. She looked as relieved as I felt. Maybe now we could be in the same room without arguing. We’d had our debate, and there wasn’t really any more to say. The judges would have the last word on who had won the debate. Of course I hoped they would choose my team, but no matter who won, I was glad to know that Abby and I wouldn’t have to mention dogs or cats to each other ever again.

  The judge who’d welcomed us stood up again. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “The judges will step away now to discuss the merits of your arguments. Please shake hands and be seated. We’ll return shortly with a decision.” He led the others toward a curtained area at the back of the stage.

  Kai, David, and I stood up and walked toward Abby’s team for handshakes. As Abby and I shook, I happened to look over her shoulder, out into the audience.

  I gasped.

  A man was moving through the small crowd.

  A man I recognized.

  A man I feared.

  Lance Dibdin had arrived.

  I screamed.

  And then I screamed again.

  David whipped his head around to stare at me.

  I couldn’t speak. Instead, I just pointed at Dibdin.

  Everything happened so fast after that that it’s all a blur in my mind. But afterward, when we talked about it, we were able to reconstruct the scene.

  Dibdin was moving fast, toward the stage and David. What was he going to do? Grab David then and there? Or did he have a weapon?

  Mr. Hawthorne had one. A gun, that is. No question about it. He pulled it out from beneath his jacket in one smooth move, just the way they do in the movies. He was running as he did it — running toward Dibdin. He looked determined, serious, focused.

  “Dad!” David gasped. His face had turned completely white. He looked wildly back at me. “Dibdin may be armed!” he said. He looked as if he might pass out.

  Kai and I grabbed David and pulled him toward the curtained area, where the judges had gone.

  “What — ?” David was staring back at the podium.

  “Forget about it,” I said, pushing him toward the curtain. “Just move!” He stumbled toward the curtain. Kai helped him find his way in as I turned back to check on Dibdin’s location.

  Total chaos met my eyes. The people in the audience were on their feet, milling around as they tried to figure out what was going on. Security guards in blue uniforms were running toward the stage. I couldn’t see Agent Melendez, even though I knew he was out there. Mr. Hawthorne was working his way through the crowd, trying to get to Dibdin. And Dibdin was dodging between people, still heading toward the stage.

  Those curtains wouldn’t do much to protect David if Dibdin was armed.

  I heard screams and shouting. Somebody cursed. A baby started to cry.

  “What’s going on?” Abby stared at me. “Is it that guy? The kidnapper?”

  I nodded.

  “What should we do?” She sounded panicky.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Stay out of the way, I guess.” As far as I could tell, Dibdin wasn’t coming toward me. Maybe he hadn’t recognized me, or he didn’t consider me important enough to bother with.

  But I didn’t feel safe, even knowing that Agent Melendez was somewhere nearby. I wouldn’t, until Dibdin was caught. And so far, he was doing a good job of avoiding that. The security guards couldn’t seem to get close to him. Mr. Hawthorne couldn’t either.

  Then I saw an opening in the crowd. Mr. Hawthorne saw it too. He gestured to Melendez, who had appeared out of nowhere. “This way!” he shouted. He plunged through the gap in the crowd toward Dibdin.

  Our kidnapper didn’t have a chance after that.


  Later, I told David that his dad should consider switching careers. He could make a good living playing professional football, judging by the way he tackled Dibdin, bringing him down hard and fast.

  Agent Melendez jumped on him too, grabbing Dibdin’s arms and pulling them behind his back. He snapped on a pair of handcuffs faster than you could say “Busted!” and then began patting Dibdin down, looking for a weapon.

  Several security guards arrived at the spot within moments. Mr. Hawthorne spoke to them quickly, and they fanned out again. Did Mr. Hawthorne think Dibdin had accomplices? (I found out later that he suspected it, but the guards didn’t find anyone suspicious.)

  The people in the audience were still milling around, unsure of what was going on. As I said, it all happened fast. Some of them probably hadn’t even seen Dibdin, or noticed Mr. Hawthorne’s drawn gun, or witnessed the flying tackle.

  Once Dibdin was subdued, Mr. Hawthorne stood up and raised his hands. “Okay, everyone, you can take your seats and settle down. There’s no reason to be alarmed. We have everything under control.”

  Slowly, people began to return to their seats. A security guard helped Dibdin to his feet and began to march him toward the nearest exit.

  Before he left the building, Dibdin turned and stared into my eyes. The look he gave me was intense. I bet I’ll have nightmares about it. There was no question anymore: He recognized me.

  Mr. Hawthorne hurried up to the podium. “Are you okay, Kristy?” he asked, taking me by the elbows and looking into my face.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “David’s back there.” I waved toward the curtain.

  “I know. I saw you push him out of the way. You have excellent reflexes, Kristy. I can’t thank you enough. If Dibdin had been armed — ”

  “He wasn’t, though, right?”

  Mr. Hawthorne shook his head. “Fortunately, no. I hate to think what might have happened if he had been.”

  Just then, David and the judges came out from behind the curtain.

  “Dad!” David ran toward his father. “Are you all right?”