Kristy and Kidnapper

by Ann M. Martin

  There were six general teams. Abby was named to the first one, along with a boy from South Dakota and a girl from Tennessee. I’d sort of forgotten that she and I wouldn’t be on the same team.

  Arthur Greenleaf read off a bunch of other names before he pulled mine out of the hat. I was the first member assigned to Team Six. When he read the name of the second member, it sounded like Kite-A-Dow, but when the man behind him wrote it on the blackboard, I saw that it was Kai Teh Tao. Arthur Greenleaf said he was from New Jersey.

  Finally, the last member of our team was announced. “David Hawthorne, from right here in Washington, D.C.” David! I looked around to see if I could spot him, since I hadn’t seen him yet that morning. He was way in back, and he stood up only for a second. I had to hide a smile. He wasn’t going to have much luck avoiding me from now on.

  Next Arthur Greenleaf announced which teams would argue the positive sides of their propositions and which would argue the negative. Guess what? For the first time in my debating career, I was assigned to the positive. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to have to argue that cats make better pets than dogs.

  Abby’s team was assigned to the negative. Lucky her. She looked at me, smiling, and faked a big sneeze. Abby is majorly allergic to dogs — but not, as strange as it seems, to cats. I had to laugh.

  When all the teams had been assigned and the sides determined, we were dismissed for the next few hours. Debates wouldn’t begin until four that afternoon, so we had plenty of time to prepare. As soon as Arthur Greenleaf turned us loose, everybody started milling around in the dining room, trying to find their team partners.

  “Hi,” I heard someone say behind me. “Aren’t you Kristy?” I turned to see Kai Teh Tao. “I’m Kai,” he said, smiling shyly.

  “Have you seen David Hawthorne?” I asked, craning my neck to look around at the crowd.

  “He’s in back,” Kai said, pointing. “Should we go find him? We might as well meet for a little while right now.”

  “Sure.” I had a feeling it was going to be awkward being on David’s team. He seemed so nervous around me. I decided it might be best to make it easy on him. So as soon as Kai and I found him, I spoke up. “Hi, David,” I said.

  He smiled a thin smile.

  “Listen,” I continued. “I was thinking this morning. I figured out that I must have mixed you up with somebody else. Now that I think about it, the boy at our school was a little taller than you. Anyway, I never knew him that well. He was really better friends with a friend of mine, Stacey McGill.”

  I thought I saw his eyes light up when I said Stacey’s name. Really, I did. But I let it go. “So, anyway, here we are on the same team. That’s cool, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Except for one thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “I can’t stand cats,” he answered, grinning for real now.

  Kai and I burst out laughing. “I don’t mind them,” I said, “but no way are they better than dogs.”

  Kai agreed. “Give me a big, slobbery Labrador retriever any day,” he said. “Cats are so stuck-up.”

  “Oh, well,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “I guess we’re going to have to consider this a challenge. I bet if we really work at it, we can even convince ourselves that cats are better.”

  Kai nodded and held up his hand for a high five. “We can do it,” he said.

  David put up his hand too. “Let’s get to work.”

  We found a quiet corner of the lobby and sat down to brainstorm. David took notes as we blurted out every positive thing we could think of about cats. Some of them were pretty silly. For instance, Kai said they are less likely to bark at the letter carrier. But a lot of them were serious. “Cats need less care,” I pointed out.

  “And they eat less,” added David.

  “But think how stinky their canned food is,” I said, holding my nose. “Yuck.”

  “Forget about that,” said David. “Dogs eat canned food too. Besides, we have to concentrate on the good stuff.”

  “I know, I know,” I answered. We worked for an hour or so, putting together a very solid opening argument. Then we decided it was time for a break.

  “Let’s go to the Mall,” suggested David.

  “Shopping?” I asked. “I hate shopping.”

  David shook his head. “No, the Mall in D.C. isn’t about shopping at all. It’s the area where all the monuments are. The Capitol building is at one end, and the Washington Monument is at the other. It’s a cool place to walk around.”

  “Sounds great,” I said. I was glad to see that David was acting more comfortable around me. We headed out of the hotel — and bumped into Melissa on our way. She wanted to come with us, but first she had to find Lucas (of course). She ran inside and returned with not only Lucas but Abby.

  “Hey, cat lovers,” Abby crowed when she saw us. “You guys are dead meat. Can you think of even one good thing to say about cats?”

  I laughed. “Don’t get me started. Did you know that cats were worshipped in ancient Egypt? And what about their habits? Cats are so much cleaner than dogs. Plus, they can practically take care of themselves, and — ”

  Kai nudged me. “Don’t give away all our arguments,” he whispered.

  Abby grinned. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Dogs are so much cooler it’s not even a contest. I mean, can you play fetch with a cat? Or teach it to shake hands?”

  “Some cats can — ” I began, but David interrupted me, hustling us all out the door.

  Abby and I debated all afternoon as David and Lucas showed us around the Mall. But it was all in fun.

  At least, I thought it was.

  “And so, based on their persuasive arguments, their excellent reasoning, their speaking skills, and the quality of their rebuttals, I award this debate to the affirmative team, Team DKK.” The judge smiled down at us.

  Yesss! I had to fight the urge to do a victory dance and throw my fist in the air. That kind of behavior apparently isn’t considered appropriate at a debate. Instead, it seems, you stand there smiling at your teammates. Then you shake hands with the other team (no chants of “two, four, six, eight” either) and thank the judge.

  If you haven’t already guessed, Team DKK is my team: David, Kristy, and Kai.

  Kai and David looked as happy as I felt as we walked out of the room. “We did it!” David said.

  “Your rebuttal was excellent,” I told him as we gave each other a high five. “The other team thought they had us with that hairball argument, but you came right back at them.”

  Kai laughed. “I think our opening arguments were awesome too. We had all the strongest points lined right up. And you spoke really well, Kristy.”

  We had planned to take turns doing opening arguments, and I’d been a little nervous about being the first on our team to do one. But it had gone well. I’d tried to remember everything I’d learned about speaking clearly and concisely, and I’d remembered to use natural-looking gestures to emphasize certain points.

  Suddenly, I was exhausted. And starving. “Isn’t it time for dinner?” I asked.

  Kai checked his watch. “The dining room should be open,” he answered. “Want to go see?”

  “You guys go ahead,” said David. “I’m, um, going to go change first.” Suddenly, he seemed uncomfortable again. I had the feeling he didn’t want to sit at a table with us, where the conversation might be less about cats and dogs and more about personal things.

  That was fine. Kai and I sat with Melissa, Abby, and Lucas, and we had a good time. We chatted with this great brother-sister debating team, Alexandra and Scott Toombs, who were in the two-person event. After dinner a dance was held in a big meeting room on the third floor. The lights were low, and the DJ was playing dorky music from the eighties. Abby and Kai and I hung out near the refreshments table, but Melissa and Lucas headed for the dance floor. They danced every dance as if it were a slow one, no matter what the beat. They looked as if they we
re in a different world.

  After awhile, Abby glanced at me. “Want to get out of here?” she asked. “We can go hang out in our room.”

  “I’m so ready,” I answered. “You don’t mind, do you, Kai?”

  He shook his head. “I’m out of here too,” he said. “See you tomorrow, okay? We should do some more preparing before our next debate. Come up with some fresh arguments.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “Team DKK has to stay on top.”

  “You’re not the only ones who won today,” Abby pointed out. “Don’t start getting cocky.” Her team (they’d named themselves Team Lincoln, after Abraham Lincoln, one of the best debaters in history) had won its first round too.

  When we arrived back in our room Abby closed herself in the bathroom to relax in the tub, and I headed for the phone. I’d been thinking, ever since I met David Hawthorne, that I’d like to check with Stacey about her memories of Terry Hoyt. I plopped down on the bed and dialed Stacey’s number.

  “Stacey, it’s Kristy,” I said when she answered.

  “Kristy!” she said, surprised. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Aren’t you in Washington?”

  “Yup. But there’s something I wanted to ask you about. Someone, really. It’s Terry Hoyt. Remember him?”

  Stacey hesitated. “Uh, sure,” she said after a couple of seconds. “I remember Terry. Why?”

  “It’s just that there’s this guy at the debate convention who looks exactly like him,” I told her. “But he swears his name is David Hawthorne, and that he’s never heard of Stoneybrook. Weird, huh?”

  “Very weird.” Stacey sounded strange. “David Hawthorne, you said?”

  “Right. He lives here in D.C., and he’s on a debate team. He’s here with his friend, who happens to be Melissa’s boyfriend. This guy she met at camp. They’re all over each other. It’s really gross.”

  Stacey was silent.

  “Stace?”

  “Oh, right. Gross. I heard you.”

  “Anyway, I just wanted to know if you had any idea what happened to Terry. He moved away pretty suddenly, didn’t he?”

  “Uh-huh. I don’t know where to, though.”

  “So you lost touch with him?”

  “Right. We lost touch.”

  I thanked Stacey, said good-bye, and hung up, feeling as if she wasn’t telling me something. But if she didn’t know, she didn’t know. Terry was probably in California or Oklahoma or somewhere, clueless about the fact that he had a double who was living in Washington.

  I didn’t have much time to think about our conversation because the phone rang as soon as I hung up. “Hello?” I said.

  “Kristy, it’s Kai. I was just thinking — as long as we’re not at the dance, maybe Team DKK should spend some time tonight practicing for tomorrow.”

  “Great,” I said. “That will really give us an edge.”

  “I’ll call David,” said Kai. “We can meet in the lobby, okay?”

  “See you in ten minutes,” I said.

  “Where are you headed?” asked Abby, who had just emerged from the tub. “What’s going to give you an edge?”

  “I’m meeting with David and Kai.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You guys are serious.”

  “I guess we are.” I put my notebook and a couple of pens into my backpack and headed for the door. As I left, I noticed that Abby was already on the phone, calling her teammates.

  I stepped into the hall and saw someone walking toward me from the other end.

  It was David.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Oh! Hey,” he answered. He didn’t look entirely thrilled to see me.

  “Kai called,” I said. “Did he call you too?”

  David nodded. He looked over his shoulder, toward his room.

  “So, what do you think we can do differently tomorrow?” I asked, ignoring his weird behavior.

  “Um,” said David, glancing over his shoulder again as we walked toward the elevator.

  “I think we should be more aggressive with our arguments,” I suggested. “You know, really jump in. If we leave any room for doubt, the other team will pick up on it.”

  David nodded. “Uh-huh.” I had the feeling he wasn’t really listening.

  “So, have you come up with any more good reasons why cats make better pets?” I asked.

  David drew a little closer to me and muttered something under his breath.

  “What?” I figured he was being secretive, in case someone from another team was listening, which seemed overly cautious to me. After all, we were walking down an empty hall.

  “I said, we’re being followed,” David repeated, just loudly enough so I could hear him.

  “Followed?” I grinned. “You mean, by somebody from a rival team?”

  He shook his head. And he didn’t smile back. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder yet again. As he did, we came to a corner. On the wall ahead of us was a large mirror, mounted over a table holding a vase of flowers. I looked into the mirror. Sure enough, someone was walking far behind us, a man in a dark shirt and black jeans.

  “How do you know he’s following us?” I asked, keeping my voice low in order to humor David.

  “He’s not following us,” David answered in a whisper. “He’s following me. So go on.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked indignantly. If David really was being followed by some strange guy in dark clothing, I wasn’t about to take off and leave him alone to deal with it. “I’m staying with you.”

  David frowned. Just then, we reached the elevator. I stretched a finger toward the DOWN button.

  But David grabbed my hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling me toward the stairway door, which was directly across the hall from the elevator. “Run!” He opened the door and shoved me through it. Then he yanked the door shut behind us and we scrambled down the stairs. Above us, the door opened and shut again as the man entered the stairwell.

  David really was being followed.

  I ran, my heart beating hard with excitement — and fear.

  We ran down three flights of stairs, then one more, and then we started down another. The man drew closer every second. I felt as if I were in a chase scene in some action movie. It was almost as if this were happening to someone else.

  “We’re nearly at the lobby,” David said, panting. “Keep running, Kristy.”

  We were just a few steps away from the bottom of the stairs — the door to the lobby was in sight — when the man lunged for David. I screamed as loudly as I could, while David shoved the man away.

  The man staggered backward, nearly fell, then caught himself. “Not so fast, Hawthorne,” he said. “Your father is going to pay.” He lunged a second time and grabbed David by the shirt.

  I screamed again.

  “Run!” David yelled.

  I flew down the last steps, threw open the door to the lobby, and ran screaming toward the desk. Within moments, four security guards appeared. “A boy is being kidnapped!” I yelled, pointing toward the door to the stairs.

  They sprinted for the door, and I followed them. When they opened it, neither David nor the man was in sight.

  But David’s backpack lay on the landing, papers spilling out of it.

  Two of the guards ran down the stairs toward the basement and the indoor parking garage. The other two ran up.

  I had a feeling that I should follow the ones who had headed downstairs, so I did. As soon as we burst through the door into the parking garage, I spotted David. The man in the dark clothes was dragging him toward a long black car. “There he is!” I yelled, pointing. The guards sprinted toward the man, who pushed David to the ground and took off, running.

  “David!” I cried. “Are you okay?” I helped him up as the security guards chased after the kidnapper. A young woman who had been behind the reception desk appeared next to me.

  “I’ll help you,” she said, taking David’s other arm. We supported him
as he rose shakily to his feet.

  “Are you okay?” I repeated.

  David thought for a moment. “I guess so,” he said, sounding dazed. “Just a little bruised.” He took a few limping steps. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”

  We helped him hobble to the stairway. As we made our way toward the lobby, the security guards reappeared — empty-handed.

  “You didn’t catch him?” I asked.

  They shook their heads.

  The kidnapper was out there somewhere.

  The security guards escorted David, the receptionist, and me back into the hotel lobby. One of them spoke into his radio, reporting what had happened. He must have been talking to the police because two officers — a man and a woman — arrived just seconds after we stepped through the stairwell door.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?” one of the officers asked the receptionist.

  She looked pale. “Oh — sure,” she said. “Let me just check with the manager. You can probably use his office.” She ran off, leaving David and me with the police and the security guards. I was still feeling shaky, and I could only imagine how David must have been feeling. It was very reassuring to be surrounded by four people in uniform, four people who would protect us and keep us safe.

  The woman officer, who introduced herself as Sergeant Driscoll, checked with David to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Meanwhile, the other officer, Officer Michaels, took statements from the security guards about what they’d seen and heard.

  Then the receptionist returned and led David, the officers, and me into a small, quiet office behind the reception desk. “You can use this room for as long as you like,” she told the police. She still looked pale. Before she left, Officer Michaels took a short statement from her.

  Sergeant Driscoll sat David and me on the small couch that took up one wall of the office. Then, after a closer look at David’s bruises, she decided one of them could use some ice and went off to find the hotel manager. That left us with Officer Michaels, until his radio spluttered and a voice began talking. He excused himself and stepped into the hall to answer it.