Halloween reminded me of the Halloween Hop, and we began to talk about who was going with whom, and who was just going to go and hope for the best. Mary Anne and Logan were going together, of course. Claudia was hoping that this boy, Woody Jefferson, would ask her. Stacey was trying to get up the nerve to ask some new boy in her English class to go with her, and Dawn said she would go alone.
“A lot of kids do that,” she added defensively. Then she said that she thought I was so brave to have asked Bart. (By that time, everyone knew what I’d done. Secrets don’t last long in the BSC.)
“Speaking of Bart,” said Mary Anne. “Have you gotten any more notes?”
“Another one this morning!” I replied.
“And you didn’t tell us?” cried Claudia. (You have to have a loud voice to be heard in our cafeteria.)
“Sorry,” I replied. “It was the fourth one. I guess I’m getting used to them.”
“Used to them!” repeated Dawn, awed.
“Boy, if I had a mystery admirer who was sending me love letters —” Stacey began loudly.
“SHH! Keep your voice down!” I said.
“If I keep my voice down, you won’t be able to hear me,” replied Stacey.
That was true, but I had noticed that Cokie Mason and her snobby little crowd — Grace Blume and two other girls, Lisa and Bebe — were sitting at the next table. They were being awfully quiet.
“You guys,” I whispered, and my friends leaned forward to hear me.
“Is this going to be girl talk?” Logan whispered back.
“Sort of,” I replied.
“See ya.” Logan stood up abruptly and left. He hates when our conversations become too “girlish.”
“I brought the letters with me. Look.” I spread the notes out on the table. I had even saved the envelopes because I liked the stickers on them.
Mary Anne, Dawn, Claud, and Stacey bunched around the letters.
“‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’” Mary Anne read. She sighed. “That is so, so romantic.”
“Distant,” added Claudia.
“But you guys don’t really think they’re from —” I stopped. We had an audience. The boys at one table were watching us with great curiosity, and at the next table, Cokie Mason was peering rudely at us. Then she turned to Grace and snickered.
I put the letters away in a hurry.
“Don’t pay any attention to Cokie and those guys,” said Stacey.
“Yeah. They’re probably jealous. I bet none of them ever got a love note from a secret admirer,” said Mary Anne.
“I wonder why the letters are all typed,” Stacey was saying.
“SHH!” (I hissed it.) “I already told you. It’s so the mystery admirer can disguise his handwriting.”
“Then they must be from Bart Taylor. Who else would need to disguise his writing?”
“Sam,” I said.
Cokie and her friends got up then and left the cafeteria. They didn’t even bother to clear off the table they’d been sitting at.
“What pigs,” I said.
As you can tell, we do not like Cokie and her group very much. And we have good reason not to.
“Remember Halloween?” spoke up Mary Anne, just as I was about to say the same thing. I guess that’s a sign of being best friends.
“Boy, do I ever,” said Claudia.
“What? What happened on Halloween?” asked Stacey. (She’d been back in New York then.)
“Mary Anne started getting these weird, threatening notes. Someone even sent her a bad-luck charm. And then, we really did have bad luck. We thought we were … well, I’m not sure what we thought,” said Claudia falteringly, “but anyway, it turned out that Cokie and her friends were behind everything. They wanted to make us look like jerks, because they liked Logan and wanted him to hang around with them — not with jerks.”
“So what happened?” asked Stacey.
“We made them look like jerks. And we did it in the middle of the graveyard at midnight on Halloween.”
“Don’t ask what possessed us.” Dawn giggled. “Get it? Possessed us?”
We laughed.
“I really don’t know where we found the courage to do that, but we did,” I said. “Mal and Jessi were with us. The BSC sticks together.”
The five of us were silent for a few moments, thinking, I guess, about Cokie and Logan and Halloween. Then the bell rang. Lunch was over. We cleaned up our table before we left the cafeteria.
* * *
That afternoon I baby-sat for David Michael and Emily. As usual, Mom and Watson were at work, Charlie and Sam were at after-school sports, and Nannie had bowling practice. Nannie is in a senior citizens league. They play really well. Nannie even has a trophy in her bedroom.
Nannie is a character and I love her. We all do. Emily Michelle is especially attached to her. In fact, she cried as she and David Michael and I stood at the front door and watched Nannie drive off in the Pink Clinker. (That’s Nannie’s old car, and it really is pink. Nannie had it painted pink on purpose because she likes the color.)
“Come on, Emily,” I said as I closed the door. “Nannie will be back soon. She has to practice her bowling.”
“Yeah, you want her to be a champ, don’t you?” asked David Michael.
“Cookie,” Emily replied pathetically.
“Boy, she sure learns fast, doesn’t she?” I said to my brother. “Okay, one cookie, Emily. Just one.”
“Can I have one, too?” asked David Michael. He made a sad face. “I miss Nannie. A cookie will make me feel better.”
I punched him playfully on the arm and he grinned.
The three of us were just finishing our snack when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” I said. “David Michael, keep an eye on Emily, okay?”
My brother nodded.
I ran to the front door, opened it, and saw nobody. But a note was lying next to the mat. My heart began to pound. Another letter from my mystery admirer! I grabbed it up and read it before I’d even closed the door. When I’d finished, my heart was still pounding, because this note was … weird. It said, “I love you, I love you, I love you, but beware. Love is fickle. So are friends. Watch out for your mystery admirer.”
Of course I called Shannon immediately, praying that for once she’d be home after school and able to come over. She was and she did. While David Michael and Emily played and watched TV, Shannon and I discussed the note. We examined every angle. We read it and reread it.
“I hate to admit it, but maybe I was wrong,” said Shannon shakily. “This couldn’t be from Bart. This note is sort of … twisted.”
“What if it is from Bart?” I asked. “Maybe he’s crazy.”
“He’s not crazy! I go to school with him. I ought to know. Maybe somebody else sent it.”
“No. It looks just like the others.”
“How come you’re so willing to believe Bart is your mystery admirer all of a sudden?” asked Shannon.
“I’m not. I mean, I don’t know. But if he is, then I’ve invited a psycho to the Halloween Hop.”
Mallory and Jessi did have a fun afternoon. It started right after lunch, as Jessi was arriving at Mal’s house, and Mr. and Mrs. Pike were leaving.
Claire was running around with a clown mask on her face, calling everyone a silly-billy-goo-goo, when Margo said, “Maybe I’ll be a clown for Halloween this year.”
“Oh, that is so ordinary,” retorted Vanessa, who is nine and plans to be a poet one day.
“Well, what are you going to be?” asked Margo. (Margo is seven.)
“A poet,” replied Vanessa in a superior voice.
“What does a poet look like?” wondered Nicky. (He’s eight.) But he didn’t wonder for long. “I better think of a costume,” he added.
“We all better,” said Byron, one of the ten-year-old triplets.
“I’m going to be a giraffe,” said Claire.
“In your dreams,” replied Jordan (another triplet). “How would you be a gir
affe? How would you see? You would have to stretch your neck out about ten feet to get your head under a giraffe mask.”
Mal and Jessi laughed. They were sitting with the kids in the Pikes’ rec room. The day was dreary and no one felt like going outside. “I will wear the giraffe neck on my head,” said Claire haughtily. “I’ll make little eyeholes in the neck so I can see out.”
“You have to admit that’s clever,” said Adam, the third triplet.
The Pike kids looked impressed.
“I’m going to be a hobo this year,” spoke up Nicky.
“Lame,” said Jordan. “I’m going to be a mummy.”
“I suppose no one’s ever been a mummy before,” said Mal, eyeing her brother.
Jordan made a face. Then he brightened. “I know. I’ll be a headless mummy. Now that’s original!”
“I wonder what I can do to look like a poet,” mused Vanessa.
“Dress up like a pen?” suggested Margo.
“No, I want to look like a poet. I mean, a poetess.” She paused. “Mallory? Do poetesses wear berets on their heads and look raggedy?”
“Nope. Those are starving artists,” replied Mal.
The triplets began to rifle through the Pikes’ box of dress-up clothes and props. They pulled out hats and masks and a doctor’s bag. Then Adam found a spool of thread. A simple spool of thread.
“What’s that doing in there?” asked Jessi.
“I don’t know,” Adam answered, “but I just got a great idea.”
“What?” asked the others.
“You guys, we should make a haunted house in our basement. We’ll set it up on Halloween — that’s a Saturday — and during the day, kids can come through it. We’ll have ghosts and moving things and lots of scary stuff. We can use the thread for cobwebs. We’ll charge ten cents or maybe twenty-five cents apiece. Everyone will get their money’s worth!”
“That,” replied Jordan, “really is a great idea.”
“Can we all help?” asked Nicky. (Sometimes the triplets do things on their own. And they often leave Nicky out, even though he’s the only other boy in the Pike household.)
But —”Sure, you can all help,” said Adam surprisingly. “We’ll need lots of people. We’ll need someone to answer the door and take kids down to the basement. We’ll need someone else to lead each kid through the haunted house. And we’ll need dressed-up people, like ghosts and headless mummies to walk around. Real people are scarier than fake ones.”
“You know what else?” said Vanessa. (She was about to make a very un-Vanessa-like suggestion.) “There should be a part of the haunted house where we blindfold people. Then we make them put their hands in peeled grapes and cold spaghetti and stuff. We’ll tell them the grapes are eyeballs and the spaghetti is brains. They will be so grossed out!”
“Vanessa, you’re a genius!” exclaimed Jordan.
“Not really,” she replied modestly. “I saw it on TV.”
“Well, anyway, we’ll definitely do that,” said Jordan.
“And we’ll play a haunted-house sound effects tape,” added Adam. “The kids will hear moaning and groaning and screaming and doors slamming and the wind howling and thunder and everything!” Adam was all worked up.
Claire looked a little scared, but she covered up her feelings. She didn’t want to be left out of the family project.
The Pike kids fell into silence. Their thoughts must have drifted from Halloween, because the next thing that was said was, “Do you think we can really beat the Bashers?” (That was Nicky.)
“In the World Series?” asked Margo.
Nicky nodded. “What do you think, Mallory?”
“I don’t know. You beat them before, but I think you’ll have to try very hard not to be nervous during the big game.”
“And the cheerleaders will try very hard to … to, um … to lead the Krushers to victory,” said Vanessa dramatically. “Hey! I’ve got an idea. Since the World Series game will be played right before Halloween, Charlotte and Haley and I should wear costumes. I mean, Halloween costumes.”
“That would be cool,” said Nicky. Then he looked out the window. “It isn’t raining, Mallory. Can Claire and Margo and I practice catching and hitting in the backyard?”
“Sure,” replied Mallory.
The kids split up then. The three younger ones went outside. The triplets began planning the spook house. And Vanessa got on the phone with her fellow cheerleaders to discuss costumes. She called Haley first.
“Hi, Haley. It’s Vanessa. Listen, I’ve got this idea.” She explained her plan to Haley, who must have liked it. Then she said, “What? A group of three? Oh, I see what you mean. All right. I’ll think about it. You call Charlotte, then call me back, okay?”
Vanessa hung up. She returned to the rec room, where Mallory was giving the triplets a hand with their haunted house. (Jessi had gone outdoors to help Claire, Margo, and Nicky.)
“Haley says that cheerleaders should dress alike,” Vanessa reported to Mal. “So we have to be the Three Somethings, only we don’t know what.”
“How about the Three Little Kittens?” suggested Adam, snickering.
“Or the Three Little Pigs?” said Jordan.
“No!” cried Vanessa.
“They’re just teasing you,” Mal told her gently.
The phone rang then, and Vanessa dashed for it, crying, “That’s probably Haley! I bet she and Charlotte have a good idea for our costumes.”
“Big deal,” muttered Adam.
A few moments later, Vanessa reappeared. “Charlotte and Haley are coming over.”
“Goody,” said Jordan. “Just what we need. More girls.”
“Enough,” Mallory told him warningly.
The cheerleaders holed up in the bedroom that Mal and Vanessa share. They talked for almost an hour about costumes. At last they ran down to the rec room, looking very excited.
“We know what we’re going to be! We know what we’re going to be!” cried Charlotte, who doesn’t usually get very noisy.
“What?” asked Mal, quite interested.
The girls looked at each other and grinned. Then they said in unison, “The Three … Stooges!”
Mal tried (successfully) not to laugh. “The Three Stooges?” she repeated.
“Yup,” said Haley.
“And,” added Vanessa, “we’re going to go trick-or-treating together. The Three Stooges costumes will be for Halloween, too. Now I don’t have to worry about what a poetess looks like.”
“Boy,” said Adam enviously. “We should have thought of that. The Three Stooges would be perfect costumes for triplets.”
“You can be The Three Stooges, too, if you want,” said Vanessa generously.
“No way!” exclaimed Jordan. “Not if the idea is already taken by girls.”
The girls ignored Jordan’s comment. They found the TV Guide and began looking through it to see if any Three Stooges programs were going to be on soon. They wanted to copy the costumes of Larry, Moe, and Curly. The triplets returned to their spook-house preparations.
In the backyard, Nicky yelled, “Home run! All right!”
The afternoon was, Mal and Jessi agreed, a fun one.
At first, I couldn’t figure out why my friends were looking so astonished. Finally Mary Anne stood up and whispered in my ear, “The clock, Kristy.”
It was Monday afternoon. The seven BSC members were gathered in Claud’s bedroom. As usual, I was sitting in the director’s chair, visor in place, pencil over one ear. What had astonished everybody was that the clock had changed from 5:29 to 5:30 and then to 5:31 — and I had not said a word. I had not called the meeting to order. I was just sitting in the chair, staring into space.
“Oh. Oh, um. Order, everybody,” I said hastily. I paused.
“Kristy, are you all right?” asked Stacey.
“Yeah. I just forgot to start the meeting, that’s all.”
“You forgot to tell me to collect dues, too,” said Stacey. “It is Monday.
And what do you mean you forgot to start the meeting?”
“Oh, nothing…. Stacey, it’s dues day.”
“No kidding.” Stacey made us fork over. Then my friends just gaped at me.
“What?” I said.
“Well, what is wrong?” asked Mary Anne. “You’ve never sat by the clock and not noticed when it said five-thirty.”
“Yeah. Maybe you shouldn’t be president after all,” teased Dawn.
I tried to laugh, but it wasn’t much of an effort.
“Kristy?” said Claud. “Come on. Get with it.”
I sighed. “Okay. I was too embarrassed to tell you guys this, but I’ve gotten four more notes from the mystery admirer.”
“So? You weren’t embarrassed about the first fifty or so notes,” said Stacey, smiling. I could tell she was trying to get me to smile, too.
“The last four notes,” I began, “have been … weird.”
Everyone immediately looked interested, and I could tell that we weren’t going to have a normal meeting.
“What did the notes say?” Jessi wanted to know.
“Well, the first one wasn’t so bad. Just kind of odd,” I replied. “It said, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you. But beware. Love is fickle and so are friends.’ Or something like that. Then the second note said, ‘Violets are blue, blood is red, I’ll remember you when you are dead.’”
“What?” screeched all my friends.
“Yup. That’s exactly what that note said. I’ll never forget it. Then the third note was about, let’s see, blood again, but I didn’t memorize that one. And anyway, today, just before Charlie drove me to the meeting, I got this note.”
I pulled a piece of paper out of my pocket. My friends jumped up and leaned over me, peering at the note. They surrounded my chair, and I felt smothered.
“Ew,” said Stacey. She took the paper from me and read aloud. “I want to be with you forever — eternal togetherness. So I am coming to get you.”
“Aughh!” shrieked Mary Anne. “He’s coming to get you?”