Jessie helped Katya take off her warm-up suit. “Are you worried about Friday?” she asked.
“I will do my best,” Katya said matter-of-factly.
Then she began her exercises, followed by vigorous stretching. The Aldens were allowed to watch by the edge of the mat.
“You’re so flexible,” Henry remarked. “What is that pose you are doing?”
Katya was standing on her right leg. With ease, she picked up her left heel in her left hand and drew it up to shoulder-height, her left leg straight.
“It is called a Y scale,” she replied.
Benny decided to try it. He brought his foot up, but had to bend his knee. He wobbled like a top.
Violet began to giggle. "You look like a pretzel!"
“My coach is waving me over,” Katya told the Aldens. “I must go.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Violet said. “Guess we’d better find a seat in the bleachers. They’re almost full today.”
As she turned, she glanced over at the press area. Tables and chairs had been placed behind a plastic chain so only journalists and photographers would use them.
Then Violet saw something that made her stop in her tracks.
Benny nearly ran into his sister. “What is it?” he asked.
“That man over there,” she said, pointing to the press section where a dark-haired man adjusted a camera. “It’s Al Stockton! Our mystery man!”
Jessie and Henry stared, too.
“You’re right!” Jessie declared. “It’s the same man we saw in the airport.”
“And the one who mistakenly took Katya’s bag and came to our house to get his,” Henry added. “What on earth is he doing here?”
As if he felt their attention, the man looked up. When he saw the Alden children, his face turned red.
Today he wasn’t wearing his yellow cap, but a wrinkled suit and a purple shirt. His press badge was clipped to an orange-and-purple tie. He was dressed differently from the way he had been at the airport, but the scowl that drew his brows together was the same.
Al Stockton unhooked the plastic chain and rushed over to the Aldens.
“What are you kids doing here?” he demanded.
Henry wondered why the man was always so rude but answered politely. “We’re with our houseguest. You remember, you had her bag. She’s a gymnast.”
“Well, you better stay out of the press box,” Al warned them. A camera was draped around his neck.
Benny looked over at the tables and chairs. “What box? I don’t see any box.”
“That’s what the press area is called,” Al told him. “It’s only for media people. No nosy kids allowed.”
Jessie was insulted at being called nosy. Like her older brother, she tried to be polite. “Are you a photographer?”
Al held up his camera. “What do you think? I was sent here to cover the competition for the Register. Now, if you kids don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
Then he stalked off across the floor.
Jessie put her hands on her hips. “The nerve of that man! He was the one who came running over here to talk to us! I bet he’s not even a real photographer.”
“Can you tell, Violet?” asked Benny.
As the family photographer, Violet knew a lot about cameras and picture-taking. She observed Al kneeling to snap shots of boy gymnasts performing on the rings that dangled from the ceiling. As much as she disliked the man, he definitely knew how to use his camera.
“He’s a professional, all right,” she concluded.
“Look,” said Benny. “He’s taking pictures of Katya.”
Sure enough, the black-haired man was snapping picture after picture of Katya as she performed her complicated routine on the balance beam. He got so close that Katya missed an aerial somersault and fell to the mat.
Although the Aldens couldn’t hear from the bleachers, they could see Katya’s coach, Irina, shouting at Al and drawing an invisible line on the mat. Al stepped back, scowling even more.
When another of Katya’s teammates took her place on the beam, Katya came over for a quick break.
“That awful man is taking pictures of me!” she exclaimed, taking the water bottle Violet handed her.
“I know,” said Jessie. “We couldn’t believe it when we saw him. Of all the people to be here!”
“He’s covering the competition for a newspaper,” Henry said. “I hope he isn’t making you nervous.”
“Normally, people do not make me nervous,” said Katya. “But I think he is concentrating too much on me.”
Violet pulled Katya’s towel from her sports bag. “It probably seems that way. Photographers have to take a lot of pictures. Sometimes their pictures don’t turn out, so they snap roll after roll.”
Benny was watching the balance beam area. “He’s not there now. So he must be taking pictures someplace else. Katya, that fence rail you walk on looks awfully small.”
Katya laughed. “Benny you can always make me laugh! It’s a balance beam, not a fence rail. It is always four feet from the floor, sixteen feet long, and four inches wide. Our routines must have grace, poise, and courage to be scored highly.”
Henry whistled. “It takes a lot of courage to do that somersault in the air like you did.”
“Yes,” agreed Katya. “Although I am used to it now. The difficult part about that move is that I do not know where the beam is when I am upside down. My feet could miss.”
“Four inches! Something that little is easy to miss,” Violet said. “Katya, your coach is waving.”
“I must go.” Katya gave them all a smile. “Thank you for staying with me during practice.”
This time Katya trotted over to the uneven parallel bars. She rubbed her hands with chalk, grabbed the lowest bar, and swung herself up.
Just then Al Stockton appeared and began taking pictures of Katya as she worked through her routine.
“There he is again!” Jessie cried. “Katya’s right. He seems to be taking more pictures of her than anyone else.”
“But why?” Violet wondered aloud. “He’s supposed to take pictures of all the gymnasts, not just one.”
“At least Katya is doing okay,” Henry put in. “She’s not looking at him.”
“I wouldn’t look at him, either,” a strange voice said behind them.
The Aldens turned to see a young man. He had light-colored hair and wore jeans and a dark blue sweater over a white shirt. Behind wire-framed glasses, his eyes were dark blue.
“Who are you?” Benny asked.
“Lucas Tripp,” said the young man. “I’m a reporter from the Greenfield Times. I’m covering the competition. And who might you be?”
Benny was confused by the question. “I might be anybody. But I’m really Benny Alden.”
Lucas threw his head back and laughed. “Great comeback, Benny Alden!”
Jessie held out a hand. “Our brother is never at a loss for words. I’m Jessie Alden. This is Violet and Henry.”
“Nice to meet you,” said the reporter.
“What did you say about the man who keeps taking pictures of our friend?” Henry wanted to know.
“I was just making a joke,” Lucas replied. “That dark-haired fellow doesn’t get along with the rest of us in the press box.”
“He took Katya’s bag at the airport,” Benny blurted. “Then Katya took his by mistake. And then he came to our house and wasn’t very nice to Katya. He acted like she had looked in his suitcase. But she hadn’t.”
Lucas nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds like Mr. Al Stockton. He growls like a bear if anybody comes near his camera.”
Benny giggled, then growled himself.
“Tell me about your friend,” Lucas said smoothly. “I might use her as the focal point of my story.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jessie. She liked Lucas but was a bit suspicious of him. Everyone seemed interested in Katya. Maybe a little too interested.
“It’s a reporting technique,” Lucas
replied. “When I cover a big event, such as this competition, it helps the reader understand if I concentrate on one athlete. Tell the story from his or her point of view.”
Henry looked at Jessie. He was wary of Lucas Tripp himself. “Here comes Katya now,” he said. “We’ll introduce you. You can ask her yourself if she wants to give an interview.”
Katya was tired from her bar routine. “I had to do it six times before I got it right,” she said. Then she saw Lucas and smiled shyly.
“This is Lucas Tripp,” said Violet. “He’s a reporter for the Greenfield Times. He wants to ask you questions.”
Instantly Katya stiffened. “What questions?”
Lucas brought out his notebook and pen. “Just about your life in Russia.... Is that where you’re from? Your home, things like that.”
Katya’s eyes grew wary. “There is nothing to tell.”
“Well, of course there is!” Lucas said cheerfully. “Everyone has a family. What is yours like?”
Flicking a glance at the Aldens, Katya dropped her voice to a mumble. “You should talk to someone more interesting than me. I do not have a very exciting life.”
“Our readers will think anything you say is interesting,” Lucas urged. “Now, tell me about your family and where you live.”
Katya’s voice became a monotone, as if she were reading from the phone book. “I live in a small town near St. Petersburg. I have a mother, a father, a brother, a sister and grandparents. I train at the gym every day. I go to school. Then I train some more.”
Lucas wrote quickly. “Very good. What else?”
“That is all I have to say, Mr. Tripp. I must go now.”
The Aldens and Lucas stared as Katya ran to the bleachers to pull on her warm-up suit.
“We have to go, too,” Henry said. “Excuse us.”
As they walked toward the bleachers, Violet said, “Katya didn’t want to talk again!”
“Why is she afraid to tell people about her life?” Violet wanted to know. “It’s almost like Katya isn’t who she says she is.”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head, Violet!” Jessie exclaimed. “Katya might be somebody else!”
CHAPTER 5
The Missing Music
Katya delicately pulled off a bite-sized piece of fried chicken with her fork. “This is the best thing I have ever eaten!” she exclaimed.
The Aldens were in the popular Chicken Lickin’ restaurant across from Greenfield Park. Because Katya and her teammates had performed their afternoon routines so well, their coach had let them go early. Grandfather thought their guest might enjoy a meal out as a treat.
“You can pick it up,” Benny said. “That’s the way we eat fried chicken.”
“But I’ll get my fingers all greasy!” Katya said.
“Lick ’em,” Benny told her. “Like the sign says!”
“Do you eat chicken in Russia?” asked Violet. Now that they wondered who Katya really was, they were more curious than ever about her background.
“Oh, yes,” Katya replied. “My grandmother makes chicken Kiev. It is wonderful.”
“I’ve had chicken Kiev,” Grandfather said. “It’s very tasty. A whole stick of butter is tucked inside the rolled chicken.”
“And when you poke your fork into it, the butter squooshes out!” said Katya, laughing.
“Cool!” Benny said. “I like food that squooshes out.”
“As long as it lands on your plate,” added Jessie with a chuckle.
Katya seems much more at ease, Jessie thought. Inside the sports arena, Katya had been very tense. Maybe because she was away from other teams and reporters, Katya was loosening up. She was even telling them about her grandmother.
When the waitress refilled Grandfather’s coffee mug, she announced the dessert of the day. “Chocolate cake.”
Benny’s eyes lit up. “Can we, Grandfather?” he asked.
“Of course,” said James Alden. “I only wish I could eat as much as you do, Benny. Enjoy it while you can!”
But Katya shook her head regretfully. “I cannot eat too much before the competition.”
“Then we won’t have dessert, either,” Benny said loyally.
Grandfather paid the check. “When the competition is over, we’ll come back. Then, Katya, you may eat as much chocolate cake as you want.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, Mr. Alden. I am so lucky to have such a nice host.” Then she looked away.
Violet wondered if Katya was feeling guilty about something.
“Can we go to the park now?” Benny asked.
“You bet,” said Grandfather. “I have some errands to take care of in the square. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
It was early evening and hardly anyone was in the park. A few people sat on the benches. Two older men played chess.
The playground was empty. Benny ran over to the slide, scrambled up the ladder, and shot down.
“Whee! Come on, Katya! This is fun!” he urged.
Katya climbed up the ladder with her gymnast’s grace and slid down, giggling. “This is fun. I forget what it is like to play sometimes.”
“Everybody needs to play,” Jessie said as she and Violet chose swings.
Benny ran over to the monkey bars. He was too short to reach the first bar, so Henry gave him a boost.
“Look at me!” he cried, pulling himself along.
“Very good,” said Katya.
Then she leaped onto the bars with a backward somersault. She swung from bar to bar, twisting her body in midair. When she dismounted, she arched her back, arms overhead, as if she had finished a routine for the judges.
Violet clapped. “You aren’t supposed to be working!”
“That was not work,” Katya said, her cheeks pink from the fresh air. “That was fun.”
Then all the children clambered onto the jungle gym and sat on top, enjoying the view.
Jessie dangled her legs. It felt good to be high in the air. “There’s the fountain. The water isn’t turned on in the cold months, though.”
Just then a bright blue disk sailed into the playground.
A big golden dog burst through the bushes near the fountain. The dog grabbed the Frisbee in his mouth, his plumy tail waving like a flag.
“Come here,” cried a voice from the trees. “You’re supposed to bring the Frisbee back to me, Ralph!” A young man with light hair stepped into the clearing. He wore blue sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt.
Ralph hopped from side to side with the Frisbee still in his mouth.
The Aldens and Katya watched the scene, giggling. Clearly, Ralph wasn’t going to give the Frisbee to his owner.
The young man was annoyed. “All right, show-off!”
After trotting in a perfect circle, Ralph dropped the Frisbee at his owner’s feet.
“Good dog,” Henry called down.
The young man looked at them for the first time, then drew back sharply in surprise. He picked up the Frisbee. “We’d better get along home, boy.”
“’Bye!” Benny said.
The young man did not look back at them or say good-bye.
Jessie stared as the pair left the park. “That man looks familiar. I know I’ve seen him before.”
“Maybe here at the park?” Violet said.
Jessie shook her head. “I don’t think so. But it wasn’t long ago.”
Henry swung down from the jungle gym. “Grandfather’s here. You probably saw that guy in the supermarket.”
Jessie hoped so. There were too many people to keep track of lately.
Denise, the American gymnast, was waiting for Katya the next morning at the Greenfield Sports Arena.
“Hi,” she said. “I missed you yesterday.”
“We finished practice early,” Katya said. “Denise, these are my friends. Henry, Violet, Benny, and Jessie, this is Denise Patterson.”
“Hi,” said Denise. She had snapping dark eyes and a pert ponytail tied with a red ribbon. Like Katya, she was small fo
r her age. “Are any of you gymnasts?”
“Katya is teaching us,” Benny said. “But all I do is fall.”
Denise smiled at him, showing a dimple. “Keep at it. You’ll get it. We should go stretch, Katya.”
The two girls worked out on the mat.
Violet scanned the room. “I wonder where Denise’s mother is. She doesn’t like Katya and Denise to be together.”
“I don’t see her,” said Benny. “But there’s Lucas.”
Jessie couldn’t believe her eyes. Lucas Tripp was wearing blue sweatpants! Exactly like the ones the red-haired woman sitting in the bleachers had worn. And just like the sweatpants worn by the mysterious figure who had followed them in the town square, and the young man they had just seen in the park.
She gripped Henry’s arm, “Lucas is wearing blue sweatpants,” she told him. “Is he the guy who followed us last night? You were closer to him than any of us.”
“The guy—or girl—had on a coat,” Henry said. “I really couldn’t tell.”
Lucas walked straight over to the Aldens. “You kids are just who I need to talk to.”
“How can we help you?” Violet asked. Despite Lucas’s cheerful manner, she was wary of the young reporter.
He pushed his glasses up on his nose and checked his spiral notebook. “I was watching Al Stockton yesterday. I don’t think he works for any newspaper. He doesn’t seem to be on deadline like the rest of us.”
“On deadline?” quizzed Benny.
“Yes,” Lucas answered. “Reporters and photographers have to have their stories and pictures finished and in by a certain time. Then the newspaper can print them. Most of us rush out of here by late afternoon. Not Al.”
“Why would he tell us he’s working for a newspaper if he isn’t?” asked Jessie.
“Good question,” said Lucas.
“Is he here today?” Violet asked.
“I haven’t seen him yet,” Lucas replied. “But I’ll keep an eye out for him. Maybe you should, too.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get back to work.” He hurried off to where a boys’ team was practicing on the parallel bars.
Henry thought of something. “Maybe Al Stockton is only pretending to work for a newspaper so he can get in the arena.” He pointed to the press box.
Gymnastics Mystery Page 3