Abby and the Secret Society

by Ann M. Martin

  The three of us sat silently for a moment. Then, suddenly, I heard footsteps on the path, and Mr. Kawaja appeared, pushing a wheelbarrow full of twigs and sticks. Cary, who was walking beside him, caught my eye and nodded. I thought I saw him wink, but I wasn’t sure. Had he and Mr. Kawaja heard any of what Sergeant Johnson had just told us? I hoped not, although I couldn’t figure out why it would matter. I guess I was just excited about this mystery Mary Anne and I had stumbled onto, and I wanted to keep it ours alone.

  Except for sharing it with the rest of the BSC members, of course. We told Claudia about it during the ride home, and she was fascinated. Mary Anne invited us to dinner at her house, so we could talk it over some more. Claudia had a sitting job and couldn’t come, but I accepted. It turned out that Sharon, Mary Anne’s stepmother, had invited other guests, too: her parents, Dawn’s Granny and Pop-Pop (that’s what everyone calls them), who have lived in Stoneybrook all their lives.

  Naturally, Mary Anne and I jumped at the opportunity to grill them about Dark Woods. At first, they didn’t want to talk about it, but we barraged them with questions, and eventually they told us a few interesting facts. Such as, the mayor back when Dark Woods closed was named Armstrong, and he was not well-liked, except by the few people in his favor. He was known, as Pop-Pop put it, as “a strong-armer,” which meant that he had ways of making people do what he wanted them to do. Pop-Pop also mentioned that he’d heard rumors about the secret society, and that he suspected that Armstrong might have been part of it, along with — guess who? — Mr. Stanton, Nikki’s father!

  Granny laughed when Mr. Stanton’s name came up, and called him “Mayor Armstrong’s right-hand fool.” She didn’t seem to have much respect for him. And she was surprised to hear that he was still living in the Stoneybrook area. As far as she knew, she said, he had moved away a long time ago. And as for Armstrong, she told us that he must be very old, or even dead, by now. She remembered hearing that he had stayed in Stoneybrook straight through World War II, due to a heart problem. “All the other men went off to war, except him,” she said.

  Very interesting. I couldn’t wait to write the day up in the mystery notebook. I also couldn’t wait to return to Greenbrook. This job was turning out to be much more than just a February distraction!

  Mal had the first official BSC job with Stephen. By “official,” I mean that she wasn’t just helping him with his homework over at Greenbrook while his mom and the other BSC members worked, the way Stacey had on our first day there. This time, Nikki had called during Monday’s meeting to set up a sitting job. Mal, who had taken the job, headed over to the Stanton-Chas’ house on Wednesday afternoon. She talked a bit with Nikki, who then took off for Greenbrook. (Nikki had already been at Greenbrook most of the day, but had returned home just long enough to greet Stephen after school and spend half an hour with him.)

  Stephen had hung back, sitting on the stairs while Mal and Nikki chatted in the front hall. Mal figured he had a right to feel shy, since they’d met for only a few minutes during Mal’s first day at Greenbrook. After Nikki left, Mal sat next to him on the stairs. “Do you like your new house?” she asked.

  “It’s okay,” he answered, barely glancing at her.

  “I like it a lot,” said Mal, looking around. “It feels very homey.”

  Stephen didn’t say anything.

  “I bet you’re going to have lots of new friends here,” said Mal. “Stoneybrook Elementary is a great school, and there are tons of kids in this neighborhood.”

  Stephen looked down at his shoes and muttered something.

  “What did you say?” asked Mal.

  Stephen muttered a little louder. “I don’t have any friends.” He looked so sad and lonely that Mal’s heart broke just a little.

  “Well, not yet, you don’t,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “After all, you just moved here. You’re new in school, and you’re new in the neighborhood. But it won’t take you long to make friends, believe me.”

  Stephen looked doubtful.

  “Tell you what,” said Mal, smacking her knees and standing up. “How about if we go out for a walk? It’s not a bad day out there, and I bet a lot of kids are playing outside. I know just about everybody in this neighborhood, and I can introduce you. How does that sound?”

  “Okay,” agreed Stephen. He went to the closet and found his jacket and a Mets baseball cap. “I’m ready,” he said as soon as he’d put on the cap and zipped up his jacket. He looked less sad and more hopeful, Mal thought.

  “Great!” said Mal. “Let’s go.” She left a note, in case Nikki came home early (BSC members always try to do that), and she and Stephen headed out the door and down the street.

  The first kid they saw was four-year-old Brian Williams, whom Mal knew slightly, who was playing with toy trucks in his front yard while his mother sat on the porch steps with his baby brother. Mal waved to Mrs. Williams and called hello to Brain. “Mallory Pike!” Brian cried, running to give Mal a hug. Mal knew Brian was too young to be a real friend to Stephen, but she decided to introduce them anyway.

  Brian stared at Stephen for a moment. He said hi, and Stephen said hi in return. But then Brian turned his attention back to Mallory. “When are you going to baby-sit me again, Mallory Pike?” he asked. “I want to hear the rest of that story we were making up, the one about the bunny.”

  Mal smiled and promised Brian she’d see him soon. Then she and Stephen headed down the street again. “He’s a nice boy,” said Mal.

  “He’s a little kid,” grumbled Stephen. “And he didn’t even like me, anyway.”

  Mal snuck a glance at Stephen, and noticed that his mouth was turned down and that he had that sad and lonely look again. “He’d like you if he knew you better,” said Mal. “Maybe some day while I’m sitting for him —”

  “Do you know any older kids?” interrupted Stephen.

  “I sure do,” said Mal. She looked up the street. “In fact, there are three of them, right now!” She pointed to the Braddocks’ house. There, in the side yard, were three girls: Haley Braddock and Vanessa, Mal’s sister, who are both nine, and Charlotte Johanssen, who is eight. The three of them are kids the BSC sits for regularly.

  “Hey, you guys!” called Mal. “What’s up?”

  “We’re practicing cheers,” answered Haley. “Softball season is right around the corner, you know.”

  “How does this sound?” asked Vanessa, striking a pose. “Krushers, Krushers, you’re the ones! You make softball so much fun!” (Vanessa wants to be a poet, and she rhymes all the time — not just when she’s cheering.) She bounced around energetically as she yelled, pretending to shake a pair of pompoms. Haley and Charlotte bounced and yelled along with her. As you might have guessed, they are cheerleaders for Kristy’s Krushers, which (duh) is the name of the team Kristy coaches.

  “Sounds terrific,” said Mal. “Hey, I have somebody I want you to meet. This is Stephen Stanton-Cha, and he just moved into the neighborhood. His parents are the new owners of the country club.”

  “Cool,” said Haley, smiling at Stephen. “My dad’s going to play golf there.” She peered at Stephen, interested. “How come you have two last names?”

  Stephen frowned, and didn’t say a word. Mal sensed that he was hanging back again. “Stanton is his mom’s name, and Cha is his dad’s,” she explained. “Stephen’s mother has been working very hard making sure the club will be ready by golf season,” she told Haley.

  “I can’t wait! Greenbrook sounds great,” rhymed Vanessa.

  “Vanessa is my sister,” Mal explained. “I’ve told her all about Greenbrook.”

  “Oh,” Stephen said. He barely looked at Vanessa.

  “My mom’s going to join, too,” Charlotte piped up. “She plays tennis a lot in the summer.”

  Stephen nodded, but didn’t seem very interested. Mal wished he weren’t so shy. Maybe if he were more outgoing he’d have an easier time making friends.

  “Well, we have to keep practi
cing,” said Haley. “You guys can stay and watch if you want.” Again, she smiled at Stephen, but Stephen didn’t respond.

  “I think we’ll keep walking,” said Mal. “See you around!”

  She led Stephen down the street, unsure if she should comment on his behavior. She didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious about it, but he certainly wouldn’t make friends quickly, unless he overcame his shyness. Before she could figure out what to say, she spotted her youngest sisters, Claire and Margo, who were in the Pikes’ yard playing a game they call Little Mermaid and Friends. It’s a mish-mash of their favorite movies (lately they’ve been introducing Ariel and Pocahontas to Simba, the Lion King), but they love it, and it keeps them busy for hours.

  “Hi, Claire,” said Mal. “Hi, Margo. Listen, this is Stephen. I wanted him to meet you — and everybody else. Where is everybody?” Normally, a lot more kids would have been in the Pikes’ yard.

  Claire shrugged. “I don’t know, Mallory-silly-goo-goo!” She’s five, and loves to talk nonsense. She peered at Stephen. “Are you Chinese?” she asked. Stephen shook his head, frowning.

  “They’re all over at the Arnolds’,” said Margo, who didn’t seem to notice the way Stephen was glowering at Claire. “Hi, Stephen.” Margo is seven, just Stephen’s age. “Aren’t you in Mr. Anderson’s class? I think I’ve seen you in school.”

  Stephen nodded. He’d lost the angry look and now he just looked shy.

  Margo waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. “Want to play with us? You could be Aladdin,” she offered. “Or you could be Simba.”

  “How come he gets to be Simba?” whined Claire. “I never get to be Simba.”

  “That’s okay,” Stephen said hastily. “You can be Simba. I don’t know how, anyway.” He backed up a little, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else but in the Pikes’ front yard. “Let’s go home,” he said to Mal. “I have some reading homework to do, I think.”

  “Let’s just check in at the Arnolds’,” said Mal. “I want you to meet the rest of my brothers and sisters.” Stephen looked reluctant, but Mal smiled convincingly, and finally he nodded. As they walked across the street, Mal pointed out that her sister had invited him to play.

  “Only because they have too many parts and only two people to play them,” said Stephen. “She didn’t really like me.”

  Mal raised her eyebrows, but she decided to try one last time.

  Mal could hear loud voices from the Arnolds’ backyard, so she led Stephen around the house to find out who was there. “Yess!” she said to herself as she rounded the corner and saw a yard full of kids. “Pay dirt!” There were Marilyn and Carolyn Arnold, who are eight-year-old identical twins; Jake Kuhn, who’s also eight; Matt Braddock (Haley’s brother), who’s seven; plus four Pike kids: Adam, Jordan, and Byron, who are ten (they’re the identical triplets); and Nicky, who’s eight.

  “Hey, guys!” called Mal. “You look busy. What are you up to?”

  The kids ran to her and surrounded her and Stephen, all talking at the same time.

  “We’re going to have a club!” exclaimed Byron and Adam together.

  “We’re making a miniature golf course,” added Jordan.

  “It’s a kids’ club!” said Nicky, who was staring curiously at Stephen.

  “Like the country club, only for us kids,” explained Jake.

  Matt held up a golf club — a putter — and grinned. He’s deaf, and communicates mostly with sign language.

  “What a terrific idea,” said Mal. “A neighborhood club! I bet Stephen would like to help.” She introduced him to everyone and explained who he was, thinking they’d love to have the son of a real country-club owner help them out. Everyone smiled at Stephen and said hello, but once again, he hung back shyly. Before long, the kids had begun working, gathering materials and supplies for their golf course.

  After a few minutes, Mal gave up and walked Stephen back to his home. She talked to him gently about how he needed to be friendly in order to make friends, and asked if he could tell her why he was so shy.

  “I just don’t fit in anywhere,” said Stephen finally, looking down at the sidewalk. “I’m not white, I’m not Korean, and I’m certainly not Chinese! I’m just nothing. I’m not like those other kids. Don’t you see how they stare at me, and ask about my name? I’m different. At school the other day, a kid said to me, ‘What are you, anyway?’ I hate it when they ask me that!”

  Mal felt awful for Stephen. She knew it couldn’t be easy being the new kid at school. He must be lonely, and he must miss his dad, who was going to be away for so long on business. And on top of that, feeling different because he was biracial must be painful. “That must hurt your feelings,” she said. “But you know what? I happen to think it’s really cool that you are both Korean and American. You’re lucky to have such a special heritage.” Mal’s words seemed to help, a little. But Mal knew it might take some time for Stephen to appreciate his background. She also knew that she and the rest of the BSC members could help Stephen through the tough time he was having, if only he’d let us.

  Over the next few days, none of us spent much time with Stephen. We were working hard at the club every day after school, and working hard on the mystery of Dark Woods, too. The mystery notebook made the rounds, and everybody had something to add: a clue, a mysterious event, a suspicious circumstance.

  That was Mary Anne and Stacey’s mystery notebook entry from the day they were at Greenbrook, raking the pebbled drives that circle the grounds of the club. At first the day seemed like any other. Groups of prospective members were touring the club while Mr. Kawaja and the other workers rushed around busily. Then Mary Anne and Stacey noticed that same white limo cruising around, the one I’d seen on our first day at Greenbrook. They kept a nervous watch on it. The driver didn’t seem to follow a pattern, Stacey told me. It was as if he were driving aimlessly.

  That is, until the limo came to a stop near the tennis courts, and an elderly man climbed out of the back. Mary Anne and Stacey pretended to continue raking, but they were watching the man closely. He walked from the car to a bench, sat down, and stared off into the distance.

  “What’s he looking at?” asked Stacey, straining to see.

  “I can’t tell,” Mary Anne answered.

  “Let’s sneak up closer,” suggested Stacey. Mary Anne looked at her as if she were nuts, but then shrugged and followed as Stacey, still pretending to rake, moved closer and closer to the figure on the bench. Being closer didn’t help them figure out who the man was — they still didn’t recognize him — but it did give them an idea of what he might be looking at. By standing directly behind him and following his gaze, they saw that he was watching someone bounce a tennis ball off the backboard in one of the tennis courts. And that someone was Stephen Stanton-Cha, who was hanging out at Greenbrook for a few hours that afternoon.

  Stacey and Mary Anne exchanged looks behind the man’s back. Then they moved off, still raking, until they were out of his hearing range. “This is really creepy,” said Mary Anne.

  “I don’t like it, either,” agreed Stacey. “I think we should tell Nikki. Let’s go find her right now.”

  They ran into the main building. “I’ll check the office,” said Stacey. “You look in the dining room.”

  Mary Anne nodded and set off down the main hallway. But she hadn’t gone three steps before something stopped her in her tracks. “Stacey,” she called. “Wait! Come back! Check this out.”

  Stacey joined her where she stood, near a display of photographs of former Dark Woods members. “What is it? I can’t believe Darcy hasn’t taken these old things down yet,” she said.

  “Good thing she hasn’t,” said Mary Anne, pointing to one of the pictures. “Otherwise, we might not have been able to identify that man we just saw watching Stephen.”

  Stacey glanced at the picture. “Oh, my lord!” she whispered, when she saw the caption. It read Paul R. Stanton, and the picture above it showed, without a do
ubt, a younger version of the man they’d just been spying on.

  “Stephen’s grandfather!” said Mary Anne. “It must be.”

  “How strange,” said Stacey. Then they headed off, first to find Nikki, who was surprised to hear that her father had been on the premises, and then to search for the rest of the BSC members, to tell us to keep an eye out for the white limo and Mr. Stanton.

  Kristy was obsessed with trying to figure out what Sergeant Johnson’s reporter friend had meant by his last warning. First, she — and other BSC members she recruited — toured the entire club, checking out every step and stairway on the grounds. She didn’t find any hidden secrets, although she did make a mental note to tell Darcy that some of the woodwork was in need of refinishing.

  Next, Kristy rearranged the letters in WATCH WHERE YOU STEP, as if it were an anagram, but didn’t come up with anything more meaningful than CHEW HER WAY OUT PETS. That didn’t make any sense at all.

  Finally, Kristy stumbled across a clue — literally! She was walking through the dining room when she tripped and almost fell. She had put down a hand to catch herself, and now she noticed that a corner of the old, stained, brown carpet wasn’t completely tacked down.

  “No wonder I nearly fell,” she muttered to herself. Then, just out of curiosity, she flipped up the carpet to see what kind of flooring lay underneath. It turned out to be wood planks, but that wasn’t what made her draw a sudden breath. It was the stain she saw, across the corner of the flooring. A distinct, deep purplish-red stain that looked a little like writing. Kristy peered more closely at it, but couldn’t figure out what it said, or if it said anything at all. She sat back on her heels to think, and a beautiful, gold-framed mirror caught her eye. “That’s it!” she exclaimed.

  Kristy reached into her backpack and felt around until her hand found a pair of sunglasses, mirrored ones. She pulled them out and held them near the floor so that their lenses reflected the stain.