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

"Well, 'Ted's' handwriting looks an awful lot like Grace's. Think about it." She leaned back and crossed her arms.
"Cokie, I just want to know one thing," I said, exasperated. "Why are you telling me all of this?"
"Because, for some bizarre reason, Grace
likes you," she answered. "And I thought you kind of liked her, too. I'm worried about her. What's she going to do when the night of the dance arrives and she can't produce this Ted? She'll never live it down."

Right, because you won't let her, I thought. But I didn't say anything out loud, since just then Grace herself walked in. I looked her over carefully, as if I could discover by her appearance whether Cokie was right or not. But Grace looked like her normal self. She was wearing thermal leggings and a blue plaid flannel shirt, and when she plopped herself down on a chair near Cokie and me she let out a big sigh.
"I hope we're not doing all of this work for nothing," she said.
Immediately, I forgot about the mystery of Ted. "What?" I asked.
"My mom says that the school board might call off the dance if community pressure keeps building."
"Oh, you mean because of those letters to the editor?" Cokie asked. "But thatТs just one old crank."
"Mr. Ч Mr. Wetzler," I said, recalling the name. "I've seen those letters." We all had. This nutty guy had been writing letters to the editor of the Stoneybrook News, protesting our
dance and a whole bunch of other stuff in the school budget.
" 'Why should honest citizens pay so that teenagers can cavort in a gym, risking another tragedy?' " Cokie said mockingly. She was quoting one of the letters.
" 'Social studies and science? Yes! Shindigs? No!Т " I said, quoting one of the protest signs I'd seen in what I figured was Mr. Wetzler's yard, which I pass on my way to school every day. We laughed. "Don't worry, Grace," I assured her. "Nobody's going to take that nut seriously. I mean, tragedy? WhatТs he talking about?"
"I don't know," she said, sighing. "He's just one more thing to worry about."
"What else are you worried about?" I asked, leaning forward. Maybe Cokie was right, after all.
"I don't know," she said. "I think the pressure of finding a date for the dance can be pretty tough on some kids." She bent down to pull something out of her backpack.
Cokie and I exchanged glances over Grace's head. Cokie gave me an "I told you so" look.
"I overheard some seventh-grade boys talking about how they could never work up the nerve to ask somebody to the dance," Grace said, straightening up.
"Hmmm," I murmured. Whether or not Grace was actually talking about herself, this was an issue we should deal with. "Maybe we should make sure our posters say itТs fine to come alone."
"Oh, right!" said Cokie, laughing, "Who wants to come to a dance alone?"
"I would," said Rick Chow, who had just joined us.
"So would I," said Grace. "That is, if Ted weren't coming with me."
"Not everybody has to have a date," said Todd Long, who had come in right after Rick.
Cokie's face was flaming. Once again, everybody had sided against her. "Okay, fine," she mumbled. "We'll put it on the posters."
"I think thatТs a capital idea," said Mr. Roth-man, who had finally finished cleaning up the peanut butter. "Now, how are the plans for decorations coming?"
"I found a whole bunch of cool old picture frames in my uncle's barn," said Rick. "I was thinking we could make a creepy portrait gallery with them, you know, with fake spider webs draped all over them?"
"Excellent," I said admiringly. "I bet Claudia would love to do some of the portraits. She could probably make them look as if their
eyes were following you around."
"I shopped for the basics," Todd reported. "I bought a bunch of red light bulbs and about ten rolls each of purple and red streamers."
"We can store everything in my classroom," said Mr. Rothman. "Anything else?"
"My grandmother has this incredible glass punch bowl," Grace offered. "ItТs huge, and it looks just like something Morticia would use at a party. Anyway, she said we could borrow it."
"Great," said Todd enthusiastically. "Maybe we can figure out some way to use dry ice so it looks like the punch is smoking. I'll talk to one of the people on the refreshments committee."
By the time our meeting broke up, everybody was excited about our plans for the dance. Except Cokie. She still didn't like the Addams Family theme, but she was stuck with it. As far as the rest of us were concerned, we were beginning to feel as if we were all set for the dance.
ThatТs why it was such a shock when Rick ran to me on Friday morning as I was heading for social studies class.
"Did you hear?" he asked me. His face was pale.
"Hear what?" I asked.
"About what happened to all that stuff Todd bought. You know, the streamers and the light bulbs?"
"What about them?" I asked.
"Gone," said Rick. "The streamers are cut into shreds, and the light bulbs are smashed."
"You're kidding!"
He shook his head. "I wish I was," he said. 'Todd is really bummed."
"I don't blame him. Was it the Mischief Knights?"
"If it was, they didn't leave a note or anything. But I don't think it was them. ItТs not their style."
I nodded. He was right. "But who, then?"
Rick shrugged. "Don't know," he said. "Anyway, I have to run. We'll figure it out at the next meeting." He took off down the hall.
I headed in the opposite direction, walking slowly and thinking hard. Who would want to wreck the decorations?
Suddenly, I had an awful thought. What if Cokie were right about Grace, that Ted really didn't exist? Maybe Grace was trying to sabotage the dance, so she wouldn't be caught in a lie.
I shook my head. It was too ridiculous. Grace would never be so destructive. Would she?
"Nah," I said out loud. And as I walked