Baby-Sitters Club 042

by Ann M. Martin

  Anyway, that day I had just finished my final dance with the prince, and I was walking to the rear of the stage so that I could collapse quietly while Mme Noelle went over her notes on who - and what - needed improvement.

  I didn't even see the flat falling. Before I knew what was happening, someone had pushed me out of the way. The flat hit the stage with a loud crash, right where I had been standing only seconds before.

  I felt dizzy. Was this another "accident"? I looked around, trying to get my bearings. Someone was standing next to me, asking if I was all right. It was Katie Beth. She was the one who had pushed me out of the way.

  "Thanks, Katie Beth!" I said, as soon as I could speak. "I hate to imagine what would have happened if that thing had hit me!" "I'm glad it didn't," she said, smiling at me. "Are you sure you're okay?" She was being so nice. I felt terrible for ever being suspicious of her. "I'm fine," I said. "Thanks again." Rehearsal ended a few minutes later. I walked off the stage and into the dressing room, thinking hard. So Carrie wasn't sending me those notes, and obviously Katie Beth wasn't, either. Was Hilary really the phantom? And if she was, how could I prove it?

  That's what I asked my friends later that day at a club meeting. I'd filled them in on my detective work so far, and they were excited to hear that the pool of suspects had been narrowed down to one.

  "You're almost there!" said Stacey.

  "But I still have to prove that Hilary is the phantom," I said. "Any ideas?" Everybody thought for a few minutes. Finally Kristy said, "You have to set up some kind of trap for her," said Kristy. "Let her prove her own guilt." "But how?" asked Claudia. Then a light seemed to turn on in her eyes. "Let me see those notes again, Jessi!" 1 handed them to her. Luckily I'd saved every one. Dawn leaned over to examine them again with Claudia.

  "You don't see writing like this every day," said Dawn. "I noticed that before, when I looked at the first few." "You're right," said Claudia slowly. "And I know why the writing looks so different. It's because the writer is using a special pen - the kind you do calligraphy with." "Calligraphy? What's that?" asked Mary Anne.

  "It's the fancy writing on wedding invitations and stuff like that," said Claudia. "It's pretty and slanted - and some parts of the letters are thick and other parts are thin. A girl in my art class has a calligraphy pen. It has a sharp, flat point and you can write thick or thin, depending on how you hold the pen." "So what are you getting at?" asked Kristy.

  "Well, all Jessi has to do is to trap Hilary into writing something, so she can see if the samples match," said Claud, smiling.

  "Whoa!" said Stacey. "Claud, you're the Nancy Drew of Stoneybrook." Claudia blushed. "Oh, yeah?" she said. "Well, if I'm Nancy Drew, who's Bess?" We all laughed. Bess is Nancy Drew's "plump" sidekick, the one who's always eating.

  "How come detectives always have a chubby friend?" asked Mallory. "There's one in the Hardy Boys, too - and in the Three Investigators. Did you ever notice that?" Claudia laughed. "I know. I guess it's all just part of being a super crime solver. So, Stace, you're just going to have to gain some weight!" She stuck an elbow into Stacey's side, and we all cracked up.

  I thought Claudia's idea was great. Now all I had to do was figure out how to get Hilary to write something - in front of me.

  Chapter 12.

  For the next few days, I spent most of my free time just thinking. I had to figure out a foolproof way to trap Hilary. But for the longest time I couldn't think of a single good idea.

  During rehearsals, I watched Hilary out of the corner of my eye. She was no dummy, I knew that. It wasn't going to be simple to trick her into confessing. But that's what I had to do.

  For awhile I considered looking through her locker, checking to see if she owned a pen like the one Claud had described. But that seemed risky - and it didn't feel right to me. Just because she might be the person who had stolen my stuff didn't make it all right for me to poke through her things.

  Then I thought I could just ask her to write something down for me. I'd tell her that I was doing a school project - about how to analyze handwriting. No, that was too farfetched. She'd never believe me.

  If only we went to the same school, I could ask her if I could borrow her notes from a certain class. But Hilary goes to a private school. So that was out. I was at a dead end.

  Finally, in desperation, I called Mallory one night. I had been trying not to take up too much of the club's time with my problem, but after all, Mal was my best friend. If I couldn't ask her for help, who could I ask? I dialed her number.

  Somebody answered in a tiny little voice. "Hello?" "Hi, Claire," I said. "This is Jessi." "Hi," she replied, breathing into the phone.

  "Is Mallory there?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said. But she didn't ask if I wanted to speak to her. Kids her age are like that. You have to take everything one step at a time.

  "Can I talk to her?" I asked hopefully.

  "Okay," said Claire. I heard the phone fall to the floor as she dropped it. Then I heard her footsteps as she ran off to get Mallory. It seemed to take Claire forever to find her, but I was used to waiting for Mal to come to the phone.

  Somebody picked up the receiver a few minutes later, but it wasn't Mal. It was Nicky. "Who's this?" he asked.

  I told him who it was. "Hi, Jessi!" he said. "Guess what! There's going to be a pet show, and Frodo's going to be in it!" I could tell that he was really excited about it - and unlike Becca, he didn't seem to mind that he only had a hamster to enter in the show. We talked for a couple of minutes, and then Mallory picked up the phone in the kitchen.

  "Okay, Nicky!" she said. "You can hang up now." We waited for a moment, but Nicky didn't hang up. I heard him breathing on the line. He was probably hoping to listen in on our conversation.

  "Come on, Nicky!" said Mal. "I'll give you a dime later on if you'll hang up right now." Click. Finally! "What's up, Jess?" asked Mal.

  "I need your help," I said. "I just can't seem to figure out how to trap Hilary." "Okay, let's think," said Mallory. "You can't be too obvious about it. You've got to be like that detective on TV. You know, the one who always makes the suspect feel like they have nothing to worry about, and then - BAM/ - he gets them." "Well, I don't think Hilary realizes that I suspect her," I said. "I've been trying to act really cool around her, so that she won't guess." It hadn't been that hard. We'd been incredibly busy at rehearsals lately.

  "Good," said Mal. "Now, let's look at her personality. There must be some weakness that we can take advantage of." "You mean, 4ike, that she's kind of vain?" I asked. I told Mal how Hilary is always looking in the mirror to check on her fancy French braid.

  "Yeah, something like that is good. Now think," said Mal. "How can we use that against her?" "Maybe I could tell her that I thought she'd make a better Princess Aurora than me," I said, thinking out loud. "She's so vain that she'd probably agree with me, and that would almost prove that she's trying to get rid of me so that she can have the part!" I was excited.

  "Jessi," said Mal, "that wouldn't really prove anything, except that she thinks she's a better dancer than you." She was silent for a moment. "No, we've got to come up with something better than that," she said. "Keep thinking." "What if I just try to catch her off guard with some casual comment?" I asked. "Like 'Hey, thanks for all those notes you sent me!' Then, if she looks upset, that would give her away." "It might work," said Mallory. "But you'll need witnesses, and that could get complicated. Plus, what if she just denies everything? Then you'll have totally blown it." 1 had to agree that Mal was right. But I just couldn't come up with any other ideas. We talked a while longer and then said good-bye, agreeing to talk some more the next day.

  After dinner that night I helped Aunt Cecelia dry the dishes. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. Then, out of nowhere, I had this great idea. "That's it!" I said out loud. Aunt Cecelia gave me a funny look.

  "What's it?" she asked, shaking the soapy water off her hands.

  I almost wished I could tal
k to her about my idea, but I knew it was better not to. I hadn't told her - or my parents - anything about the phantom. It would just make them worry.

  "Nothing, Aunt Cecelia," I said. "1 was thinking out loud. Is, it okay if I go do my homework now?" She nodded. "We're just about done here, Jessica. Thanks for your help." She looked at me carefully, as if she knew there was something I wasn't telling her. It's not easy to fool Aunt Cecelia. She doesn't let much get past her. "Go on, now," she said finally.

  I headed up to my room, but I didn't start my homework. I had something more important to think about: my Plan, with a capital P. I just knew it would work. It had to.

  Here's what I had figured out: Hilary's weak spot. She was always looking for Mme Noelle's approval. Of course, everybody in the class was doing the same thing, since we all wanted to please our teacher. But Hilary really seemed to have a need for Mme Noelle to think she was perfect. Maybe it was because of her mother. Mrs. Morgan has such high expectations of Hilary.

  Anyway, I thought I could somehow use that personality trait to trap Hilary. I just had to make her believe that Mme Noelle wanted her to do something - and then she'd do it without thinking.

  I was really concentrating. What could Mme Noelle need from Hilary? Something that she'd have to write, of course, so that I'd know for sure that that special pen really did belong to her. And it would have to be something she'd need in a hurry, so that Hilary wouldn't have time to think about it.

  A program for the performance? No, the programs were probably being printed professionally, and Hilary would know that. Invitations to our dress rehearsal? Too complicated. I had to keep it simple. What about some kind of sign?

  A sign. That was it! Now my mind was racing. I pictured the scene: Hilary writes something down. Then she realizes that she's been caught. She breaks down and confesses everything, apologizes all over the place, and tries to make me promise not to tell. But I won't. Instead, I march her in to see Mme Noelle, who tells her she's going to have to drop out of dance school. The End! 1 knew that the last part of my imagined scene probably wouldn't come true. Most likely, Madame would just give Hilary a warning. But I knew that my plan would work. There was no way it could fail. I practiced over and over again how I was going to get Hilary to write something for me, until I felt that it was perfect. I couldn't wait for my next rehearsal.

  Once I'd gotten my plan set, I turned to my homework. I couldn't afford to get behind in my classes, no matter how busy I was with rehearsals. But I'd only had my social studies book open for a few minutes when I heard a knock on my door.

  "Come in!" I said.

  The door opened slowly, and Becca peeked around it. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.

  "Sure, Becca," I said. "What's the matter?" She looked upset about something. I realized suddenly that I hadn't been paying much attention to her lately. I'd been too caught up in solving the mystery of the phantom. I closed my book and told her to sit down.

  "It's the pet show," she said, looking at her shoes. "I don't want to go to it." "Becca, why not?" I asked. "It's going to be so much fun!" "No it's not," she said. "Not if I can't win a prize." I frowned. "But who says you won't win one?" I asked. "Misty's a great pet." She shook her head. "I know. But she's only a hamster! How can she win any prizes? Everybody else has much better pets." "Like who?" I asked.

  "Like Charlotte," she said. "Charlotte is going to enter Carrot in the show, and Carrot can do all kinds of tricks. Did you ever see him say his prayers?" Charlotte Johannsen is Becca's best friend. She's also one of the kids we sit for regularly. And her dog, Carrot, is pretty cute. When you tell him to say his prayers, he puts his paws in your lap and lays his head down on top of them.

  "And David Michael is going to enter Shan- non," continued Becca. "I'm sure Shannon will win a prize." "Becca," I said gently, "there are going to be all kinds of pets in the show. And they all have an equal chance of winning a prize." She didn't look convinced.

  "Misty's brother is going to be in the show," I said. "And Nicky and Margo and Clair£ and Vanessa aren't worried about whether Frodo will win a prize. They just think the show will be fun." 1 wasn't really sure about that, but it didn't hurt to say it. "And guess what Linny Papadakis is entering - a turtle!" I said. "Don't you think that's kind of funny?" Becca shook her head, refusing to smile. I talked to her for awhile, but I couldn't convince her that winning a prize didn't matter. Finally, I just gave her a big hug and told her it was bedtime. Poor Becca. She had her heart set on winning a prize, and Misty wasn't a very impressive pet.

  Then, as I was tucking her in, I had an idea. Could it work? I went back to my room and thought it over. Then I went downstairs to the phone in the kitchen. I dialed a number.

  "Hello?" "Kristy!" I said. "This is Jessi. I just got the best idea!" Chapter 13.

  I told Mallory about my plan for catching Hilary while we ate lunch at school the next day. "Do you think it'll work?" I asked her.

  "I don't know ..." she said. "It sounds like your timing is going to have to be perfect if you want to catch her alone in the dressing room." "You're right," I replied. "And I don't want to end up being late for rehearsal, either." "Maybe you should do it after rehearsal," Mal said. "Does Hilary usually take a long time to get changed?" I told Mal that she did.

  "Great! Don't you think that would work better?" I nodded. It was good to go over my plan with someone else. Mallory and I talked about it for the whole lunch period, polishing every detail until it seemed just right.

  "When's your next rehearsal?" she asked, when the lunch bell rang.

  I groaned. "Not until Thursday!" I couldn't believe I had to wait that long. It was only Tuesday.

  "Don't worry," said Mal. "You've got a great plan, and I'm positive it's going to work." If only I could be so sure. It was hard not to worry. This was going to be my only chance to trap Hilary. I spent the next days thinking about the plan, going over it in my head, practicing what I was going to say, and imagining how Hilary would react.

  I'm sure that my parents thought something was wrong with me, but they must have chalked it up to my being nervous about the performance, which was coming up soon. At dinner I would stare into space, forgetting to eat, while I pictured Hilary's shocked face. At breakfast, I would forget what I was doing and pour the milk into my cereal bowl until it overflowed.

  Aunt Cecelia seemed suspicious, too - but she didn't say anything. She just gave me sharp looks as we washed the dishes together. I tried not to show how preoccupied I was, but it was hard.

  Becca got the worst of it, I'm sure. She was still upset about the pet show, which was going to be held that weekend. But I was just too distracted to give her any more consolation and advice than I already had. I was happy to hear that she had decided to go to the pet show after all, and that she was going to enter Misty. She was trying to figure out how to make her more -"special." Once, I had to stop her from trying to squeeze Misty into one of her Barbie doll's evening dresses.

  Squirt was probably the only member of my family who didn't notice that there was something on my mind. Or maybe he did, and he didn't care. As long as I was around to give him "hawssy rides" (horsey rides), he didn't mind my distracted attitude.

  On Tuesday night, I had a dream about trapping Hilary. In my dream, she got to her knees on the dressing room floor and begged me to forgive her.

  On Wednesday afternoon we had a club meeting. I had hoped to be able to talk over my plan with everybody, but I didn't have a chance. There were too many last-minute preparations to take care of for the pet show.

  On Wednesday night, I had another dream. This time, Hilary turned into a fanged monster and leaped at me when I accused her of being the phantom. I woke up with a start. What a nightmare! But I knew that, whatever else happened, there wasn't much chance that Hilary was going to turn into a monster right in front of me.

  My classes dragged on Thursday, but finally school was over and it was time for rehearsal. I walked into the dressing r
oom, and saw right away that Hilary wasn't there. I panicked. How was I going to wait a few more days to try out my plan? I'd never make it.

  But Hilary dashed in right after I'd finished getting dressed. She was out of breath from running up the stairs. "Am I late?" she asked.

  "No, but you'd better hurry," I said. "Mme Noelle just gave us the signal that she's ready to start." I almost wished that I had stuck to my original idea. At least the whole thing would be over before rehearsal. But it was too late now. In a moment, Mme Noelle would be taking the roll.

  I grabbed my toe shoes and ran to the stage, with Hilary on my heels. Mme Noelle barely looked up as we took our places.

  "We have only four rehearsals left before zee performance, mademoiselles," she said. "I osk for your complete concentration." She looked me right in the eye as she said that. I gulped; And I nodded.

  But unfortunately, my concentration was terrible that day. While we were doing our warm-up exercises at the barre, I lost count and kicked in the wrong direction, almost knocking over Lisa.

  "Sorry!" I whispered.

  She smiled at me. "That's okay," she whispered back. "I'd be nervous, too, if I were playing Princess Aurora." Little did she know that -my role was the least of my worries. I shook myself and tried to forget about Hilary. If Mme Noelle noticed how distracted I was, she would be furious.

  I got through the rest of the rehearsal with no major accidents. As we finished up our work for the day, I began to feel more and more nervous. What if Hilary didn't fall for my trick? What if she hadn't brought her special red pen that day? What if ...

  "You are dismissed!" said Mme Noelle, clapping her hands. "Jessica Romsey, please stay for a moment." Oh, no! She was going to tell me how terribly I'd danced that day. Maybe she was going to take the role away from me. After everyone else had gone, I crossed to where she stood, next to the record player.