Kristy and Kidnapper

by Ann M. Martin

  Mr. Hawthorne reached out and drew David close for a hug. “I’m fine, son. And Dibdin won’t be bothering you anymore.”

  I saw David take a huge, deep breath, and I had a feeling he was struggling to keep from crying.

  “It’s okay, David,” I said, patting his back.

  He stepped away from his dad. “You saved me again, Kristy,” he said shakily. “Thanks.”

  “Kai helped,” I said, shrugging.

  “Son, I need to do some follow-up on this. Are you okay?” Mr. Hawthorne gave David a serious look.

  “I’ll be fine.” David managed a smile.

  “By the way,” Mr. Hawthorne added, “you were terrific in your debate. All of you were.”

  The debate! I’d nearly forgotten. But nobody else had. I realized that the judges had taken their places again, and that the audience had settled down. Mr. Hawthorne realized it too. He gave David one last quick squeeze and headed off the stage.

  David, Kai, and I took our seats. Abby and her teammates were already seated.

  Everything seemed unreal. Did I even care anymore who had won the debate?

  Actually, I did.

  The judge who’d been acting as spokesperson stood up and faced the audience. “First, I’d like to thank you all for your patience and for keeping calm during this unexpected incident — an incident, I might add, that has ended happily.”

  There was a sprinkling of applause. I glanced at David. He still looked dazed.

  “Second,” continued the judge, “the time has come for us to announce our decision. We were able to reach one despite the interruption.” He turned to face us, the debaters. “We’re pleased to award first prize to the team of David Hawthorne, Kristy Thomas, and Kai Teh Tao.”

  I heard applause. I spotted Agent Melendez in the front row, clapping. He was — believe it or not — smiling! I was pleased that he’d stayed to find out who won. Abby’s team applauded for us too. I checked her face and had the feeling she was honestly happy for me. The judge handed us each a small trophy, shaking our hands in turn.

  “We also have a prize for the tournament’s best overall debater in this category. That prize goes to Kai Teh Tao.”

  This time, David and I joined in the applause. “Yes!” I cried.

  Kai was blushing as he accepted another trophy from the judge, but I could tell he was pleased.

  “A complete report on our judging process will be available later today,” the judge informed us. “But I will mention one factor that influenced our decision, since I think it may be of general interest and may serve as a lesson to other beginning debaters.”

  He glanced sternly at me and then at Abby. “The judges were not pleased to see signs of personal conflict during the debate. But we were happy to see that the two debaters in question were able to switch gears, presumably with the help and advice of their teammates, and finish off their debate in a civil and dignified manner. We hope they’ve learned from this experience.”

  My eyes met Abby’s. We smiled as the crowd applauded some more. As we filed off stage, I gave Agent Melendez a little wave. This was probably good-bye. I wouldn’t see him again now that Dibdin had been caught. He waved back, giving me a thumbs-up and a broad smile. In a funny way, I was going to miss Agent Melendez.

  Abby and I walked back to the hotel together. We weren’t talking, but I had a feeling we were thinking the same thing. The judge’s remarks had been prompted by the public debate we’d just been through. But they also applied to our friendship. We had let arguing get in the way of enjoying each other’s company. We had some talking to do — but I knew we could work things out.

  I reached under the bed and came up with two mismatched dirty socks. Abby and I were in our room, packing. The convention was officially over, and in a few hours we’d be climbing onto the bus for the trip home. Meanwhile, it was time to round up everything I’d brought and try to stuff it back into my overnight bag.

  It was also time for Abby and me to clear the air — but I didn’t know how to begin. I kept glancing at her, and a couple of times I caught her looking back at me. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was. If so, I wished she’d bring it up, so I wouldn’t have to.

  I’ve never been good at this sort of thing. It’s Mary Anne’s specialty, not mine. But frankly, the silence was beginning to drive me nuts. We had hardly spoken since we’d left the Lincoln Memorial. Oh, Abby had congratulated me and the rest of my team on our win, and I’d said all the right things about how both teams had been great and her team could have won just as easily. Which was true. I was impressed that Abby and I had made it to the finals in the first place. I was pretty sure we were going to stick with debating after this. Maybe we’d be back at another convention next year, debating at the next level. If so, I hoped we could at least be on the same team. That way, we wouldn’t have to argue all the time.

  I reached under my pillow to find my pj’s. “So,” Abby began.

  “Yes?” I said eagerly.

  “So that was wild, when David’s father tackled that guy,” she said lamely.

  I had a feeling that was not what she’d intended to say. We’d already talked about what had happened when Dibdin showed up.

  “Yeah,” I answered, stuffing my pj’s into my bag. “And how about the way Agent Melendez snapped the handcuffs on him? It was just like in the cop shows.”

  “I know!” Abby was folding her skirt and laying it in her suitcase.

  “Pretty cool,” I mumbled.

  “Definitely.”

  Then there was silence again. I couldn’t take it.

  “Abby,” I said finally.

  She looked at me. “What?”

  “I — I was wondering if you packed your toothbrush. Don’t forget it!”

  “Oh — thanks,” she said. “I almost did.” She disappeared into the bathroom.

  I looked at myself in the mirror over the bureau and rolled my eyes. Why was I being a chicken? Why was it such a big deal to have a talk with a friend?

  I made a silly, scrunched-up face at myself, just as Abby came back into the room. She burst out laughing. “What are you doing?”

  I turned to face her. “Just — Abby, we have to talk.”

  “I know. It’s been — ”

  “This weekend — ” We both started talking at once.

  “You go,” she said.

  “No, you,” I said.

  We looked at each other and laughed nervously.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” I said. The hard part had been getting started. Now maybe I could talk. “I guess I just want us to be friends again. I hated all that arguing. We have such similar personalities in some ways. We’re both so competitive, and we always say just what we think.”

  “I know. It’s tough sometimes, isn’t it? We’re both so stubborn. I mean, we’re friends and all, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”

  We looked down at the floor for a moment. “So, that’s it?” I asked. “Now that the debate is over, we can quit arguing and go back to being friends?” I looked at her with a tentative smile.

  She didn’t smile back. In fact, she didn’t even look up. She was still staring at the floor.

  “Abby?”

  Still she didn’t look up.

  “Abby, what’s the matter?”

  “It’s just that …” She paused. “This weekend has been hard for me. I’ve been feeling left out.”

  “Left out? What do you mean? We’ve all been hanging around together.”

  “Not really,” she said. Now she was looking at me. “You spent most of your time with David and Kai. And Melissa’s been with Lucas.”

  “But you had your team,” I said, confused.

  She shook her head. “But we weren’t friends,” she said. “We never really clicked that way. We were only together when we needed to practice.”

  “Wow.” Abby had really been hurting. It had never even occurred to me that I’d been ignoring her, but now I could see that I hadn
’t paid her much attention. I’d been too caught up with David, and with practicing. And when Abby and I had been together, we’d spent every minute arguing. “I’m sorry, Abby. Really, I am.”

  “I kept hoping this trip would be a good chance for us to hang out. You know, just you and me.”

  “Yeah. I blew it, didn’t I?”

  She gave me a tiny smile. “Kind of.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” I said again. “That was dumb. I just didn’t see what I was doing. I mean, I definitely noticed that we were arguing a lot. But, well, I’m glad you told me.” I was too. My friends are very important to me.

  “Me too.” Abby bent over to zip up her suitcase. “So, that’s that. Can we go back to normal now?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Except I have one confession to make.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I was jealous of you,” I admitted.

  “Why?” She looked surprised.

  “Because you had the good side in the debate. The right side. I just kept wishing I was on that side.”

  She stared at me. “You’re kidding.”

  I shook my head.

  She cracked up.

  “What?”

  “Guess what?” she replied. “I kept wishing I had your side.”

  “Get out of here. Why?”

  “Because it was right.”

  “How can you say that?” I could hardly believe my ears.

  “Because it’s true! Dogs are slobbery, dumb beasts. Cats are elegant, intelligent animals.” Abby folded her arms and grinned at me.

  “Are you out of your mind? Dogs may be slobbery, but at least they don’t cough up hairballs.”

  “A few hairballs are a small price to pay for an animal that’s clean and quiet and can take care of itself. You don’t have to walk a cat three times a day, you know,” she answered.

  We were facing each other across the room, just as if we were in front of an audience at a debate. It all felt very familiar, except that we had switched sides.

  “I know, I know.” I moaned. “I made that point about ten times over this weekend. But I didn’t believe a word of it. I was just thinking about how much better dogs are. I mean, you can’t wrestle with a cat! You can’t play fetch with a cat or take it swimming!”

  “So?” said Abby. “You can’t hold a dog on your lap and pet it until it purrs. And dogs don’t catch mice.”

  “Some do,” I protested. “My aunt used to have a dog that caught mice. It would pounce on them out in the field behind her house.”

  “Okay, so maybe one dog can catch mice,” Abby said. “But you have to admit most of them are good for nothing.”

  “Never!” I cried. “I’ll never admit that!”

  We stared at each other for a second — and then cracked up.

  “Can you believe what we’re doing?” asked Abby, throwing herself down on the bed.

  I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. “We can’t seem to stop. It’s just in our nature to argue.”

  “Like cats and dogs!” Abby managed to squeak out. That cracked us up all over again.

  Just then, there was a knock at the door.

  “Who could that be?” I asked Abby.

  “Maybe Melissa forgot her key,” Abby said. Melissa had gone off with Lucas for one last romantic walk along the Mall.

  I went to the door. “Who is it?” I asked.

  “David.”

  “And his dad,” added a deeper voice.

  I checked in the peephole, then opened the door. David and Mr. Hawthorne were standing there, smiling. “Hi!” I said. “Come on in.”

  “What’s going on in here?” David asked. “What’s so funny? We could hear you laughing from all the way down the hall.”

  Abby and I looked at each other. “It’s a long story,” I said. We giggled a little.

  “Whatever,” David said. “Listen, when do you guys have to leave?”

  I checked my watch. “In about three hours.”

  “Are you all packed and everything?”

  “Just about,” Abby answered. “Why?”

  “Because we’d like to take you somewhere special,” said David. He looked at his dad and smiled. “Dad wants to give you a tour of his office.”

  That didn’t sound very exciting, but I didn’t want to be rude. “Sure,” I said. “That sounds very interesting.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne,” said Abby politely. “Do we have to wear nicer clothes, though?” We’d already changed into T-shirts and jeans.

  “No, you both look just fine,” he told her. “Well? Are you ready to go? We’ve already checked with Mrs. Simon, and she says it’s fine.”

  “You’ll like this,” David promised.

  I wasn’t so sure. Touring an office wasn’t my idea of a thrilling way to spend the last hours of my time in Washington. But what could I say? We left a note for Melissa and followed David and Mr. Hawthorne downstairs.

  “Wait a minute,” I said as the black car we were riding in pulled up to a door guarded by men in uniform. “I thought we were going to your office.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” said Mr. Hawthorne. “We are. My office is in this building.”

  “But — ” Abby managed to say. Her mouth was hanging open.

  Mine was too. “But this is the White House!” I finally said. We’d driven around to a side door, but there was no mistaking the building for anything else.

  “Where the president lives,” Abby added, as if we all didn’t know that.

  “That’s right!” Mr. Hawthorne said cheerily.

  I looked at David with narrowed eyes. “You never told me — ” I began.

  He grinned and shrugged. “You never asked,” he replied.

  I gave him a little punch in the arm. “But this is so cool!”

  “You don’t even know how cool it is,” David told me as we climbed out of the car and headed for the door. “My dad has an all-access pass,” he whispered to Abby and me.

  “Whoa!” said Abby.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted with a grin. “But it sounds impressive.”

  “It means he can go almost anywhere in the White House,” David told us. “And he can take us almost anywhere too.”

  I was speechless.

  “You’re not going to get the usual tour,” David promised. “Believe me, you’ll remember this.”

  Mr. Hawthorne had been talking to the guards. Now he turned to us. “Do you girls have some ID on you?” he asked.

  I checked the fanny pack I’d been wearing when I walked around the city. Inside was my wallet. I fished around for my SMS photo ID card. “Will this do?” I asked, holding it up.

  He took it and examined it carefully. “A passport would be better,” he said seriously. “But I think this will work.”

  “I have mine too,” said Abby, handing it to him.

  He showed the IDs to the guard, who examined them even more carefully, then entered our names on his clipboard.

  Mr. Hawthorne gave us an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave your bags here,” he said. “Visitors have to check everything. But they’ll be safe, I can guarantee that.”

  “No problem,” I said. I handed over my fanny pack and Abby gave him her backpack. He passed them to the guard. Then the guard handed him something.

  “I think we’re set,” said Mr. Hawthorne. He showed us what the guard had given him: two laminated passes with clips attached. GUEST, they read.

  David already had a pass. And Mr. Hawthorne had one too, I now saw. His was clipped to his jacket. It looked a lot more official than ours did. But I’m not complaining! Ours were extremely cool.

  I clipped mine to my shirt, and Abby did the same.

  As I was wondering what would happen next, I heard Mr. Hawthorne call a greeting to someone. I looked up to see a man in uniform ride by on a bike, waving as he passed us.

  “Whoa, cool!” said Abby.

 
“Isn’t it?” asked Mr. Hawthorne. “That’s Agent Brancusi. He’s one of our newest bike patrol agents. They patrol the White House compound. If they see anyone suspicious, they can chase him — or her — down easily.”

  “Where do I sign up?” asked Abby. “Sounds like an excellent job.”

  “We’ll keep you in mind,” said Mr. Hawthorne, smiling. “Now, let’s head inside, shall we? You’ll just need to walk through this metal detector.”

  “Is that in case we’re carrying weapons?” I asked.

  He nodded seriously. “We don’t take any chances,” he said. “There are detectors at every entrance. Everyone has to go through them.”

  We walked through without causing any beeping, and Mr. Hawthorne led us down a long hallway. We passed doors on each side, which he told us led to offices for White House staff. “I thought you might like to see the briefing room,” he said, “where the president holds press conferences.”

  “I’ve seen that on TV,” I said. “Do you think there’s one going on now?”

  He checked his watch. “There might be. But the president probably won’t be speaking. There’s often a briefing at this time by White House staff.”

  Sure enough, when we peeked into the room, a crowd of reporters was listening to a man who was standing at a podium in front of a blue curtain. The man was answering a question, while a handful of reporters took notes.

  “But it’s so small,” said Abby. “I’ve seen it on TV too, and I always thought it was this big, grand room.”

  David laughed. “You should see it when there’s something major happening and the president is speaking. All the reporters try to get the president’s attention by yelling and waving. It’s wild.”

  We watched for a while. Then Mr. Hawthorne suggested we might like to see some of the places on the regular tour, such as the Blue Room.

  “I’d rather see the inside stuff,” I confessed. “I can come back for a regular tour some other time.”

  Abby agreed.

  “Okay, then,” said Mr. Hawthorne. “How about if we check out the kitchens?” He led us through a maze of hallways and into an elevator. When we’d gone down a floor or two, he led us through some more hallways until we entered the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen. At least twenty people were at work, all wearing white uniforms. A man in a suit was talking to one of them.