"Martin, Ann M - Baby-sitters Club Mystery 022 - Stacey and the Haunted Masquerade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

"Mrs. Simon was pretty steamed," Kristy said. "She spent the period lecturing us on why pranks are 'counterproductive.' Meanwhile, the guys in the back row were trying to figure out how to join the Mischief Knights."
"So who do you think they are?" asked Mary Anne.
"I would bet Watson's salary that Alan Gray is involved," Kristy said.
"Don't be so sure," replied Claudia. "I saw him in the hall before, talking to Pete Black. From what I overheard, neither of them knew a thing about the Mischief Knights before today."
"Who, then?" I asked. "Who else would come up with all those pranks?"
"It could be anyone," said Kristy.
"It could be me!" said Abby, waggling her eyebrows.
"Or me," said Mary Anne.
"Oh, right," Kristy said, as we cracked up.
Whoever they were, the Mischief Knights continued their stunts over the next few days. More messages appeared on blackboards. Weird things, such as a rubber chicken or a toilet plunger, appeared in people's lockers. Hundreds of marbles spilled out of a cabinet in the art room when somebody opened it to look for the watercolor paints. Mr. Kingbridge was going nuts. But most of the kids thought the pranks were cool.
The Mischief Knights would have been the most popular kids at SMS, except for one thing; nobody knew who they were. But everybody was talking about them. They even came up at the first meeting of the decorations committee that Wednesday afternoon.
"Maybe we should use the Mischief Knights for a theme," Rick Chow said, practically before we'd found seats.
"I'm not sure that would go over too well with the administration," said a tall, thin man with curly black hair, who was leaning against the blackboard. He smiled at Rick. "I'm sure the students would love it, though."
At that point, he must have noticed that we were looking at him questioningly. "I'm Michael Rothman," he said. "Mr. Rothman, to
you. I just started teaching sixth-grade science here at SMS. I've seen a few of you in the halls, but why don't we all introduce ourselves?"
Cokie, naturally, had to be first. "I'm Cokie Mason," she said. "What happened to Mrs. Hall? She was supposed to be our advisor."
I thought Cokie sounded rude, but Mr. Rothman didn't seem to mind. "I ousted her," he said simply. Then he grinned. "Not really. I just asked her if I could be your advisor because I wanted the chance to be involved in helping you plan the dance. Since I'm new here, I figured it would be a good way to become familiar with the school."
Mr. Rothman seemed nice. And he made a good advisor: after we'd introduced ourselves, he sat back and let us talk about what we wanted to do. We came up with a great theme for the dance: The Addams Family Reunion. It was Todd Long's idea, and everybody loved it. Well, everybody except Cokie. She wanted some dumb theme involving jack-o'-lanterns, but we ignored her.
In fact, Cokie was ignored a lot during that meeting. And outvoted. Even Grace disagreed with every single idea Cokie brought up, and Grace is supposed to be Cokie's best friend. I could tell that it especially drove Cokie crazy to see Grace agreeing with me, a BSC member.
(Cokie still hasn't gotten over the fact that Grace teamed up with the BSC to solve a mystery recently, while Cokie was sick with bronchitis.)
I brought up my idea about a red and purple color scheme. "Because orange and black is so tired," I explained.
"Orange and black is traditional," Cokie said.
"So what?" Rick asked. "Stacey's right. Why do things the same way all the time?"
"I love the idea of red and purple," said Grace. "If 11 look kind of spooky and gothic and bloody."
"Whoever heard of purple for Halloween?" Cokie muttered.
"Are we reaching a consensus here about colors?" asked Mr. Rothman. He sounded just a tiny bit nervous. Maybe he thought we were about to start squabbling. But there was no need for argument. Since everybody but Cokie loved my color scheme, the majority ruled.
The majority also ruled when we started to talk about decorations. We decided to poke around in antique stores and flea markets, looking for Addams Family-type items. (Cokie suggested cutouts of witches, but guess how many of us agreed? Right. Zero.) And we all (except Cokie) agreed that Claudia would be the perfect person to design our advertising posters.
By the end of the meeting, I was pretty excited about the dance, and so were the other committee members. Obviously I wasn't the only one who had decided not to let Cokie ruin what could be a great time.
Chapter 6.
On Thursday morning, we arrived for classes to find that the Mischief Knights had TP'ed (toilet papered) the entire school. On Thursday afternoon, they soaped the windows of every car left in the teachers' parking lot. Friday morning they sneaked into the main office and made a fake announcement over the loudspeaker about a surprise assembly with "special guest star Michael Jordan." (We spent half of Friday's BSC meeting trying to figure out how they'd pulled that one off.) And on the following Monday morning they set all the classroom docks ahead by fifteen minutes.
On Monday afternoon, I arrived early for a decorations committee meeting and found Mr. Rothman kneeling by the door, busy with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Fantastik. There was a familiar smell in the air. I sniffed, trying to place it. "Peanut butter?" I guessed.
He grinned and nodded. "On the doorknob.
And on my shirt and my pants after I touched the doorknob."
"The Mischief Knights?" I asked. I was glad that he seemed to be taking the prank well. Some of the teachers were becoming pretty cranky about the Mischief Knights, especially after Thursday's window-soaping episode.
Mr. Rothman nodded. "They left their mark," he said, pointing to a smeared "MK" written in peanut butter above the doorknob. He smiled and shook his head. "I can't believe I was taken in by this trick. I did it to one of my teachers when I was in Ч letТs see Ч seventh grade, I think."
I tried to imagine Mr. Rothman in seventh grade and decided he probably would have looked pretty geeky, with that tall, lanky frame. I smiled to myself. Just then, somebody grabbed my arm and pulled me into the room.
"I have to talk to you," hissed Cokie.
"Huh?"
"Quick, before Grace gets here," she said, glancing toward the door nervously.
"WhatТs up?" I asked. I couldn't even begin to imagine what Cokie wanted to talk to me about.
"ItТs about Grace," Cokie whispered, shaking her hair back from her face. "You know how she's been bragging about that boy she's going to bring to the dance?"
"I might have heard her mention him," I said, confused. "So?"
"So I'm not convinced he exists," said Cokie, raising her eyebrows.
"Cokie, what are you talking about?" I asked.
"Okay, he's supposed to be from Lawrenceville, right? And she met him through her cousin? Fine. But why doesn't she have any pictures of him?"
"Well, if they just met Ч " I began, but Cokie cut me off.
"Not to mention that every time she describes him he sounds different. Like, the other day she said he had green eyes, but the week before she told me hazel."
"Big deal!" I said. "Green and hazel are pretty dose."
"Okay," she said. "How about this, then? Ten minutes ago, when we were at her locker, Grace showed me a letter she supposedly received from this guy. Ted, his name is."
"And?" What was Cokie driving at?