Kristy Power!

by Ann M. Martin

  I met Mrs. Dow’s eyes just briefly, but then she turned away to whisper something to the woman sitting next to her. Probably something about me, about the way my classmates and I were corrupting her little girl.

  That walk down the aisle seemed to take forever. Finally, though, I reached the steps to the stage. I climbed them carefully, since I didn’t especially want to trip and fall on my face in front of all those people. As I stepped onto the stage, I found myself in front of Ted. He met my eyes and gave me the tiniest smile. It was almost as if he were saying, “Don’t sweat it, Kristy.”

  Seeing Ted up close seemed to blast energy into my body. I felt ready to take on that whole auditorium of people. Shoot, I could have spoken in front of the U.S. Congress at that moment.

  I strode to the podium and thanked Mr. Taylor. I pulled a folded piece of paper out of my back pocket and flattened it out on the podium. I’d finally written up a few notes for myself in study hall that afternoon. But when I glanced at them, I realized I didn’t need them. It would be easier just to speak from the heart.

  Breathe, I reminded myself. I looked out at the sea of faces staring at me and took a long, deep breath. Then I glanced at Ted again, smiled at him, and began to speak. “Did any of you ever have a really good teacher?” I asked the audience. “The kind who inspires you to do your best? The kind who helps you learn to think in new ways and helps you enjoy learning?” I paused. “Ted Morley is that kind of teacher. He is one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, and I know that many of my classmates feel the same way. He respects his students as people, and he makes us excited about using our minds.”

  I stopped to take a breath. The auditorium was very quiet. People were listening to me.

  “All I want to say is that I — and my classmates — think it would be a real shame to lose a teacher like Mr. Morley. And in our opinion, he hasn’t done anything wrong. None of us felt pressured in any way to read a particular book on that list. He made it very clear that we had a choice. Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with any of those books, but if I did, or if my parents did, I could have chosen not to read them.”

  Suddenly, a voice rang out from the audience. “This girl does not speak for all the children in Mr. Morley’s classes!” a woman shouted.

  It was Bertha Dow.

  I swallowed hard. I glanced at Mr. Taylor, but before he could do anything, somebody else spoke up.

  “Yes, she does.”

  It was Merrie. She was standing, and she spoke clearly and firmly. She faced the stage, not her mother.

  Awesome. Merrie was full of surprises.

  Next to her, Jeremy began to clap. Then Claudia joined him, then Alan. Soon everybody in our row was applauding, and then the applause spread throughout the auditorium. I heard a few whistles and cheers as well.

  Mrs. Dow sat in her seat, facing forward. She did not glance back at Merrie or even show that she had heard her daughter’s statement. Stony-faced, she ignored the applause.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Taylor begin to stand up. I nodded to him. It was time to wrap things up.

  “I just want to say one more thing,” I went on. “I would like to ask the administration to consider the feelings of Mr. Morley’s students. We don’t want to lose him as our teacher!”

  I stepped back from the podium. After a second, I heard Claudia shout, “Go, Kristy!” And someone began to clap. Soon the auditorium was again filled with cheers and applause. I heard a few boos in the mix, but what could I expect? It wasn’t as if I were going to change the protesters’ minds. (Not that I wouldn’t have liked to.)

  I walked off the stage, smiling at Ted as I passed him. He grinned at me. “Thanks,” he mouthed.

  I was back in my seat in a flash. The walk that had seemed so long in one direction took just moments going back. The faces I passed — mostly smiling, a few frowning — were a blur. The applause tapered off as I worked my way down our row. Mary Anne stood up to give me a hug as I passed, and Claudia held up her hand for a high five. “Nice work!” whispered Jeremy.

  I felt so relieved — and incredibly proud of Merrie. I leaned past Jeremy to smile at her. “You were great,” I whispered.

  She smiled. “Thanks,” she murmured, shrugging. “I just said what I felt.”

  “Me too,” I answered.

  Next I glanced down the row, hoping to catch Cary’s eye. It would be nice to know he approved of what I’d said. But he was staring straight ahead, listening to the next speaker, a student from one of Ted’s other classes. Every other kid in our row looked back at me and grinned or gave me the thumbs-up, but Cary ignored me completely.

  I stopped listening to the kid at the podium. I wanted to patch things up with Cary, but how? Should I let him read my journal?

  No way.

  I don’t write in my journal often, and when I do I’m usually really upset about something. So it’s pretty personal.

  What if I let Cary ask me anything — anything — and promised to answer him honestly? That might work. I’d have to think about that one.

  The meeting went on. One person after another spoke, saying the same things over and over again. First, one of the protesters would speak, then one of Ted’s supporters. Finally, Mr. Taylor looked at his watch and announced that it was time to end the meeting. “Let’s take a ten-minute break,” he suggested. “The administration will need to consult about what our next step will be.”

  Most people stayed in their seats during the break, and the auditorium hummed with conversation. Mr. Taylor, Mr. Kingbridge, and the teachers who were sitting with them pulled their chairs into a tight circle and talked in low voices. A couple of teachers from the audience joined Ted and his lawyers on their side of the stage.

  I talked with Jeremy, Merrie, and Claudia until Mr. Taylor stood up and walked toward the podium again. He motioned for quiet, and the audience fell silent.

  “We feel that we need more time to make a final determination in this case. It is not a matter we want to take lightly. A decision will be announced within a few days. Meanwhile, Mr. Morley will be reinstated to his position, pending final evaluation of his case.”

  For a second, I didn’t understand what he meant. Then, a huge cheer went up, and I realized that Ted would be back in the classroom with us, at least temporarily.

  Our side had won — for now.

  “Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Ted was blushing. “I mean it!” He held up his hands. “Thank you, really.”

  All of us — the entire class — were on our feet, applauding. It was Tuesday, the day after the meeting. And we were giving Ted a standing ovation. It wasn’t planned. It happened spontaneously, because we were so happy to see him back in our classroom. I looked around at all the smiling faces in the room: Alan, Jeremy, Claudia, Merrie — and Cary. I hadn’t seen Cary smiling in quite a few days, ever since that awful moment when he figured out that I’d read his journal.

  My stomach turned over again at the thought of it. More than anything, I wished I’d never read those words. I hated knowing Cary’s terrible secret. I hated that Cary was mad at me. And I hated the fact that the biography project had turned into such a mess.

  Ted finally convinced us to stop applauding and take our seats. “Thank you,” he said again. “I mean it. You can’t begin to imagine how much I appreciate your support.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I guess this situation is providing my classes with a lesson I didn’t plan, about personal freedom and about the First Amendment.”

  Somebody in the back row gave a long whistle.

  Ted grinned. “That’s right,” he said. “The First Amendment rules!” Then he grew serious again. “And I’m glad you’re learning about it. But we have other things to learn, the things I was actually hired to teach. So I’d like to try to get back on track as quickly as possible. We have two big projects to work on —”

  “Awww,” called out Alan. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about those assignments.”
>
  “No such luck.” Ted smiled and shook his head. “I fully expect to see both projects completed on time by every student in this class. I hope that you’re making good progress. In fact, I’d like to meet with each biography pair sometime after school today.” He held up a piece of paper. “Here’s a schedule, with ten-minute time slots. Please consult with your partner and sign up as you leave class.”

  I glanced at Cary, but he didn’t return my look. Oh, well. He couldn’t ignore me forever. We were going to have to cooperate, if only for those ten minutes with Ted.

  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 Jell-O 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?

  “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.

  I was steaming.

  How could he have let me believe that he had been kicked out of his school? He must have thought it was unbelievably funny to watch me twist in the wind the past few days. This wasn’t the first time that Cary had pulled a dirty trick on me, but it was by far the worst. This one wasn’t funny.

  I motored through the halls, not even noticing where I was going. Eventually I found myself out in the parking lot, where the late buses line up. I stood waiting in the cold, barely noticing that my hands were freezing and my ears were tingling. I thought again about that tiny half smile and stomped my foot.

  You know what one of the worst things was?

  He was right.

  He had never said that what I’d read was a diary. And reading it in the first place was (as I’d already admitted a gazillion times) wrong on my part.

  So he was right.

  But I didn’t care. I was too mad to care. And I knew that, right or not, he’d done it on purpose. He’d let me go around thinking horrible, terrible things about him, just for a laugh.

  Well, ha-ha-ha. Very funny. Now he’d had his stupid, dumb joke. I looked like a fool, so he was probably satisfied.

  Creep.

  Jerk.