Kristy Power! (10 page)

    Before I knew it, the party was in full swing. The doorbell was ringing every five seconds. Watson and my mom were in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of eggnog. Karen, Andrew, David Michael, and Emily Michelle were the "coat squad": They were piling everyone's coats on the guest room bed and pounding up and down the stairs as they raced one another to answer the door and help the next arriving guest. Sam and Charlie cranked up the volume on the CD player. They'd volunteered to DJ the party and keep the mood happy and fun.
    It was an excellent party - I think. It went by in such a blur that I can't even be sure. I know that everybody seemed to be having a great time. I know that a bunch of people were dancing in the living room, and that almost all the food and all but one bottle of soda disappeared. There was lots of talking and plenty of laughter, especially in the corner where kids were playing Pictionary. I know I talked to just about every one of my guests, though only one of the conversations really sticks in my head (more about that later). But for the most part, the evening was like a speeded-up movie. A few scenes do stand out. For instance, I'll never forget the moment when Ted arrived. The doorbell rang while I happened to be standing in the front hall, so I was the one to answer the door.
    "Ho, ho, ho!" Santa was on my doorstep - a Santa wearing red corduroy pants, a red flannel shirt, and a red Polarfleece hat. Instead of a white beard, his was black, and the bulge in his stomach was obviously fake.
    "Ted!" I cried. I opened the door wide and motioned him inside. I was incredibly happy to see him, and I knew everybody else would be too. Sure enough, his entrance into the dining room brought on cheers and applause.
    Watching him circulate through the room, I thought how great it was that things had worked out the way they had. Mrs. Dow and her group had made a lot of noise, but we'd been organized and determined and unafraid to take a stand, and our side had won in the end. I'd learned a good lesson from that.
    I saw Claudia and Jeremy talking with Ted. Then he moved on, and the two of them continued chatting. Jeremy had arrived with a corsage for Stacey, and he was her date for the party - but I couldn't help noticing that he kept gravitating toward Claudia. He seemed to be enjoying himself more when he was talking to her than when he was dancing or making the rounds with Stacey.
    Logan had arrived on his own, to my relief. Still, he and Mary Anne spent most of the evening in separate rooms. He'd be nibbling on nachos in the dining room, and she'd be talking in the living room. She'd walk into the dining room to find some soda, and Logan would head for the CD player to request a song from Sam and Charlie.
    When I asked Mary Anne if she was having a good time, she said she was. But at one point, she walked into the dining room, where Logan and Emily Bernstein were having a lively conversation about the book he was reading for Ted's class. I saw her notice them and watched a shadow cross her face. For a second, she looked a little sick. Then she stood up straight, helped herself to a cheese ball, and went back toward the living room. I could tell it wasn't easy for her to see Logan with another girl, even if they weren't dating.
    All evening I'd been wondering if Cary would show up. After all, I'd invited him way back when, before this mess had taken over our lives. But eventually I stopped watching to see who'd arrived every time the doorbell rang. It looked as if he'd decided to stay away.
    Then, as I was walking through the living room, offering a box of chocolates around, I spotted him in a corner talking to Alan Gray. He must have arrived when I wasn't looking.
    I held out the box to him. "Chocolate?" I asked.
    Alan took three pieces and shoved them into his mouth all at once. "Thggs," he said as he chewed.
    He is so gross sometimes.
    Cary helped himself to a piece. "Good party," he said.
    "Thanks," I replied. "Did you guys have some of the eggnog my mom and Watson made?" "Eggnog? Where? I love eggnog!" Alan took off for the dining room.
    Which left Cary and me standing there alone.
    I glanced at him. He met my eyes. And he didn't turn and walk away.
    Maybe it was time for us to clear the air, once and for all.
    "Cary," I began, putting the chocolates down on a nearby table. "You were right. Whether or not that was your journal, I was wrong to read it. I'm sorry. Really, I am." He nodded. "I know," he said. "Apology accepted." He stuck out his hand, and I shook it.
    A feeling of relief washed over me. Finally! Suddenly, I felt a little tongue-tied. Now that we'd "made up," what would we talk about?
    Cary broke the silence. "I have to say, I've had a great time writing your biography," he said. "There's more to you than I would have guessed." "Well, thanks -I think," I said. I'd enjoyed writing his too. I'd found that writing about what I didn't know about him told as much as writing what I did know.
    "I just have one more question," he said.
    "Shoot," I told him.
    "Where did you get the name Louie for your dog?" I laughed. "It just came to us," I said. "He was a Louie. If you'd ever met him, you'd know what I mean." I looked at Cary. "Can I ask you one more question?" "Anything," he said, smiling.
    There was one thing I was dying to know. And this was my chance to find out. I looked into his eyes and asked, "Why did you really leave Illinois?" Cary grinned. "Oh, that's simple," he answered. "See, the aliens decided it was time for me to go. So they beamed me up - and beamed me down right here in Stoneybrook." "Cary! Come on, really." "Oh, you want the truth?" Now he was in full Cary mode: smirk, eyebrow, and all. "Well, the townspeople accused me of being a witch, so my family had to leave in the dead of night - " I just stood there, shaking my head. I was incredibly glad to have my old archenemy back.
    About the Author ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, NJ, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
    Although Ann used to be a teacher and then an editor of children's books, she's now a full-time writer. She gets ideas for her books from many different places. Some are based on personal experiences. Others are based on childhood memories and feelings. Many are written about contemporary problems or events.
    All of Ann's characters, even the members of the Baby-sitters Club, are made up. (So is Stoneybrook.) But many of her characters are based on real people. Sometimes Ann names her characters after people she knows; other times she chooses names she likes.
    In addition to the Baby-sitters Club books, Ann Martin has written many other books for children. Her favorite is Ten Kids, No Pets because she loves big families and she loves animals. Her favorite BSC book is Kristy's Big Day. (Kristy is her favorite babysitter.) Ann M. Martin now lives in New York with her cats, Gussie, Woody, and Willy, and her dog, Sadie. Her hobbies are reading, sewing, and needlework - especially making clothes for children.