Abby and the Secret Society

by Ann M. Martin

  “Ovaltine?” I asked, shining the flashlight on the label. “What’s that?”

  “It’s more of a drink than a food,” explained Sergeant Johnson. “But without a doubt, it was David’s favorite, back when we were kids.” I heard a sad note in his voice, and remembered that the DF whose clues we’d been following had been a real person, and a real friend. “He loved the stuff,” Sergeant Johnson said as he unscrewed the lid. “Couldn’t get enough of it.”

  The lid came off, and everybody crowded around to see what was inside the canister. There, in the flashlight’s beam, was the answer to our mystery, I was sure of it. A bundle of papers, a notebook. It wasn’t much to look at, but I knew it would tell us everything.

  And it did. We brought the papers up into the light, and with Armstrong sitting nearby, silently fuming, we read through everything. There were smudgy photocopies of blackmail notes and records of all kinds of extortion. The names, dates, and places were all spelled out — with Mayor Armstrong’s being the name most often mentioned. I didn’t spot Mr. Stanton’s name anywhere, which made me happy.

  There was also a little red reporter’s notebook, with the initials DF on the front. Inside we found a letter to Sergeant Johnson. He read it first, then handed it to me and turned away, but not before I saw the tears in his eyes. Here’s what the letter said:

  It was a Saturday afternoon, not long after that dramatic scene in the bomb shelter, and my friends and I had a very important event to attend: the Grand Opening of the Greenbrook Club.

  Even though it was only a few weeks later, it seemed as if what had happened that day in the middle of the maze had taken place in another lifetime. Instead of dreary gray, the sky was a perfect blue, with puffy white clouds sailing above. All along the driveway and in front of the main building, bright yellow daffodils and red tulips were blooming cheerily in their beds. Spring had finally arrived, and even though I knew that meant allergy season, I didn’t care. It also meant running, and softball, and being outside all the time. This was going to be my first spring in Stoneybrook, and I planned to enjoy every minute of it.

  Starting with the biggest, best party of the season: Greenbrook’s opening day. Nikki had invited everybody in town, it seemed. The place was packed with Stoneybrook dignitaries, kids and their parents, and athletic-looking people who were obviously itching to hit the tennis courts.

  “This is terrific!” said Claudia, looking around as we entered the main building. She and Stacey had, naturally, dressed up for the occasion. Claud was wearing that old checkered golf outfit she’d found in the clubhouse (which somehow looked up-to-the-minute cool on her), and Stacey wore a sparkling white tennis dress.

  “Everything looks great,” said Jessi.

  “I can still smell the fresh paint,” Mal said, sniffing.

  “This club is going to be a success,” said Mary Anne. “And Nikki deserves it, too. She’s been working so hard.”

  “Check out the goodies!” said Kristy, leading the way to the buffet table, which was covered with delicious-looking treats. Then she spotted Alan and Cary, who had piled their plates high and were off to one side, stuffing their faces. “I guess we’re lucky you guys left some for us,” teased Kristy.

  “We wouldn’t have wanted you to go hungry,” said Alan, through a mouthful of cheese puff.

  “Especially not after you did such a great job solving that mystery,” added Cary with a grin. (All the SMS kids who were working at Greenbrook had heard about the mystery.) I couldn’t tell whether he was giving us a sincere compliment or not. That’s Cary for you.

  “Well, thanks,” I said, deciding to accept it as a compliment anyway. I grabbed a plate and started to fill it. But before I could even bite into my first egg roll, somebody grabbed my arm.

  “Save some food for the real guests!” Cokie hissed into my ear.

  At first, I was mad. I mean, who is she to tell me what to do? But then, when I turned to look at her, I forgot my anger and had to concentrate on not laughing out loud. Cokie, who had done her hair to look exactly like Darcy’s, was wearing a dress that matched the maroon-and-cream color scheme of the dining room.

  “Nice upholster — I mean, dress, Cokie,” I said, with a fake-polite smile on my face. “And, by the way, I am a ‘real guest,’ and so are you. We all are, even though we worked here. Why else would Nikki have sent us those beautiful engraved invitations?” With that, I turned and left her standing there with her mouth hanging open.

  Plate in hand, I wandered around the room, just to see who was there. I noticed several of the prospective members I’d seen touring the club, and hoped their presence meant that they’d joined. Suddenly, I heard Stephen call my name. “Abby!”

  I turned and saw him coming toward me, dragging a handsome Asian man behind him. “This is my dad,” he said. He smiled proudly up at his father.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cha,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” he answered. “From what I’ve heard, you and your friends have really helped Stephen begin to feel at home here in Stoneybrook.”

  He and I chatted for a few minutes, until we were interrupted by the arrival of Jake and Nicky, who were looking for Stephen. “Hey, dude!” called Nicky. “Great party!” He gave Stephen a high five. Then he turned to me. “Did you know that Stephen is Korean and American? Isn’t that cool?”

  I nodded and smiled. So did Mr. Cha.

  “This food is awesome,” said Jake, displaying a plateful.

  I saw Mr. Cha smile. “Did Stephen tell you about the Greenbrook Children’s Club?” he asked me.

  “I’ve heard a little about it —” I began, but I was interrupted by the boys.

  “It’s going to be so cool,” said Nicky. “We’ll have a whole room to ourselves, with Ping-Pong tables and games and everything.”

  “And we’ll have swimming and golf and tennis lessons,” Jake broke in.

  “Plus a place for karate,” Stephen added. “A real sensei — that means teacher — will be teaching, but I’ll be his assistant.”

  “It’ll be great to have our club here,” said Nicky. “I mean, it was fun setting up those neighborhood clubs, but setting them up was the funnest part. After that it was kind of boring.”

  “But with the club here, we’ll meet all kinds of new kids,” said Jake.

  “Because anybody can be a member,” Stephen finished, grinning at me. I smiled back. It was terrific to see him looking so happy.

  After I’d wished the boys luck with the Children’s Club and said good-bye to Mr. Cha, I decided to take a look at the gardens. I was eager to see what kinds of flowers were coming up. I headed outside and began to wander along the paths, checking out all the green shoots emerging from the dark, sweet-smelling ground. Then I spotted the bush we’d pruned on our second day at Greenbrook, but now I barely recognized it. It was covered, and I mean covered, with briliant yellow blooms. Looking at it just about took my breath away.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I whirled around and saw Mr. Kawaja smiling at me. “It’s forsythia,” he told me. “My favorite spring bloom.”

  “I think it’s my favorite now, too,” I said, gazing at the way the blossoms stood out against the blue sky. We were both quiet for a moment. “Mr. Kawaja,” I said finally, “can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Why were you so protective of that maze? Did you know about the bomb shelter? Were you trying to keep us away from it?”

  He shook his head. “I had no idea the shelter was there,” he said. “Those men must have built it the summer I was laid up with a broken leg.” He paused. “No, the only reason I tried to keep you away was because I had put so much work into that maze, and I did not want to see it damaged or destroyed. It means a lot to me.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he answered quietly. “I hope many people will be able to enjoy it. I have promised Nikki that I will encourage anyo
ne who wants to visit it.” He turned to pick up the shovel he’d set aside. “And now I must go back to work,” he said, giving me one last smile.

  “See you, Mr. Kawaja,” I said. “I think I’ll visit the maze right now. I have a feeling I remember the way into the middle, and I want to check and see if I’m right.”

  “Have fun,” he said, waving.

  I headed for the maze, and soon discovered that finding the path into the middle wasn’t quite as easy as I’d thought. Still, after quite a few wrong turns and dead ends, I did eventually end up in the clearing in the center. But I wasn’t alone when I arrived.

  Nikki and her father, Mr. Stanton, had brought a blanket and a couple of plates of food into the maze, and they were having a picnic in the clearing.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said.

  “No, no, please join us,” said Mr. Stanton, moving aside so I’d have room to sit on the blanket. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you and your friends, and thank you for helping to expose the dark past of Dark Woods, which is something I should have done long ago.”

  “Uh, you’re welcome,” I replied. I didn’t exactly know what to say. But Mr. Stanton didn’t seem to notice. He kept on talking, as if he had to relieve himself of some terrible burden.

  “Even though I was friends with Mayor Armstrong, he was never able to convince me to join his society. I have struggled for years with those secrets,” said Mr. Stanton, looking down at his hands. Nikki reached out to touch his shoulder, and he smiled sadly at her. “I knew Armstrong and his cronies had done wrong,” he continued, “but I didn’t know how much wrong. Still, even though I held myself away from those men, Christopher was one of my oldest friends, and I couldn’t turn him in. I kept quiet for so long — until I saw my grandson in trouble. Suddenly, keeping Armstrong’s secrets meant nothing to me.” He fell silent, and Nikki reached over to give him a hug.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” she said softly. He hugged her back, and I began to feel self-conscious about intruding on their father-daughter reunion.

  “I have to be going,” I said. “I’m glad everything worked out,” I added, a little awkwardly.

  “So am I,” said Mr. Stanton, gazing at Nikki. “So am I.”

  I found my way out of the maze easily, and sat down on a bench near the entrance, just to relax for a moment and enjoy the sun. I must have dozed off for a few minutes, because the next thing I heard was somebody telling me I looked, “Just like a cat snoozing in the sun.”

  It was Sergeant Johnson, and I was very happy to see him. I’d been wondering how everything had worked out after he took Armstrong back to the station house for questioning, and this was the first time I’d had a chance to ask. He was glad to fill me in.

  “Armstrong confessed to everything,” he said. “Even to rigging the brakes on David’s car — although he insisted that he never meant to kill him. He just wanted to scare him.” He stopped and shook his head sadly. “He’ll be charged with assault, anyway, but after so long I’m not sure the charges will stick. Same with the charges against him for the blackmail and extortion. Even with Stanton testifying, Armstrong may not spend much, if any, time in jail.”

  “Does that bother you?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “The facts are out in the open now, and I think justice has been done. Armstrong is an old man, and whether he goes to prison or not, he won’t be starting any more trouble, I’m sure of that.” He frowned ruefully. “Anyway, punishing Armstrong wouldn’t bring David back. It’s too late for that. But I think David would be pleased to know that the mystery of Dark Woods has finally been solved. And I think he’d like knowing that you and your friends were the ones who did it.”

  He smiled at me, and I smiled back. Then we both closed our eyes and let the spring sun warm our faces. At last, the winter was over.

  The author gratefully acknowledges

  Ellen Miles

  for her help in

  preparing this manuscript.

  About the Author

  ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.

  There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.

  Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.

  Copyright © 1996 by Ann M. Martin

  Cover art by Hodges Soileau

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, February 1996

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-79228-8