Stacey And The Haunted Masquerade (11 page)

"Oops," I said.

"It gets worse. See, when my friends on the football team heard that there was going to be a costume dance on the night before Halloween that year, they came up with a plan. They thought it would be hilarious if I asked Liz to the dance. They cornered me, and dared me to do it." He paused. "And then, just to up the ante, they bet me ten dollars that I wouldn't last the whole evening with her."

"But you refused, right?" I asked.

He shook his head sadly. "I wish I had. But being popular was so important to me. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway. I figured I'd ask her out, and tell her later about the bet. Maybe I'd even split the money with her.

I didn't realize how serious she was about me. I thought she'd think the whole thing was silly, just like I did."

"And?" I asked.

"I asked her to the dance, at school, in front of a bunch of my friends. She didn't have a clue that I wasn't being sincere. She was thrilled to be invited."

"Poor Liz," I said. I could just imagine how she felt. How could she know that was a joke?

"By the time the dance rolled around, I was feeling so guilty I could hardly stand it," Mr. Rothman continued. "I went to Liz's house to pick her up, and she came downstairs in this ridiculous, elaborate, babyish fairy princess costume. She looked pretty, but she looked about nine years old. I felt even worse when I saw her, because I knew the other kids were going to laugh at her costume. I realized then that there was no way I could tell her about the bet. I was just going to have to stick it out and hope for the best,"

I winced. "Didn't she know her costume was silly?"

He shook his head. "I'm sure she didn't. You should have seen her when we walked into the gym. Everybody was snickering and whispering, but she didn't notice a thing. She just took my arm and smiled up at me, and I

knew she was proud to be my date. I felt like the lowest of the low. I knew exactly what was going on, but Liz was oblivious. One girl, sort of a friend of hers, walked by and hissed into my ear 'How dare you?' It was awful."

"Did you stick it out?" I asked. "Did you win the ten dollars?" I knew my tone was nasty, but I felt angry at that Mike Rothman of so long ago.

"I'm coming to that," he answered. "Once the music started, things were a little better. After all, at least we could dance. And boy, did we dance! I didn't want Liz to spend a second alone, since somebody might spill the beans. I couldn't bring her over to be with my friends. And I sure didn't want to stand around and talk. So we danced and danced, to every single song." He smiled. "Liz was having a great time, and you know what? I could have been, too. If only I'd been honest with her, and with myself. But instead, I was caught in the biggest lie of my life."

"So how did it turn out?" I asked.

"The band announced that it was almost time for the 'last dance.' Liz ran off to the powder room, and I talked to my friends. When she came back, I joined her right away, but she'd seen me with them, and she'd seen how uncomfortable I'd looked. She asked me

what was wrong, but I didn't answer. Then the band started playing 'Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?' "

I gasped, remembering the letters in dripping red paint.

Mr. Rothman barely noticed. He was deeply involved in his story. "When I didn't take Liz into my arms for the dance, she. asked me again what was wrong. I shook my head. Then I said, 'I can't do this.' I looked around and saw that nobody else was dancing either. They were all watching us. Liz saw it, too. T just can't do it,' I said again, and I broke away from her. As I walked away, I took a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and threw it onto the floor, just to show my friends how little the money meant to me."

"But Liz —"I began.

"The money landed at her feet," he said. "She was totally humiliated, standing there alone in the middle of the dance floor. A few kids started to laugh. Liz looked around at the crowd one more time, and from what I heard later, this time she looked angry. Then she walked out the door and slammed it behind her. A couple of minutes later, the power went off in the gym."

"And then?"

"Then the fire alarm went off — because

somebody pulled it — and that’s when everybody stampeded. Three hundred kids tried to leave the gym, all at the same time. It must have been a madhouse."

"And Mr. Brown died," I said.

Mr. Rothman nodded. "Of a heart attack," he said. "There's never been another Mischief Night masquerade."

"What about Liz?" I asked.

"She never came back to school," he answered. "Her family moved away, and nobody's heard of her since."

Both of us were quiet for a few seconds. Then Mr. Rothman gave me a tired smile. "This is why I wanted to work on your dance," he said. "Just to make sure everything goes smoothly this time."

"But it hasn't," I said.

"No," he admitted. "But we can't let a few pranksters ruin things for us, can we?"

Did Mr. Rothman really believe that "pranksters" were responsible for trying to ruin our dance? He might have — until he and I walked into the gym together early the next morning, to do a final check on the decorations. What we saw chilled me to the bone.

There, hanging by a noose from one of the basketball hoops, was a dummy. A dummy

dressed in
 
a
 
pink,
  
frothy,
  
fairy
 
princess costume.

Mr. Rothman turned white. Then he said three of the scariest words I've ever heard: "Liz is back."

Chapter 14.

"Ooh, look," said Mary Anne. "It's all lit up. I can't wait to go in."

My friends and I stood in the parking lot, looking up at the school. It was Mischief Night, and we were about to enter the dance. Yellow light spilled out of the school's big windows, and I could hear faint music as the band warmed up. I couldn't wait, either. But I was more than a little afraid. I still had a strong feeling that something was going to go wrong — very wrong — at the dance. Our detective work had turned up all the pieces of the puzzle, but somehow I couldn't fit them together. I shivered, and thought again about the dummy Mr. Rothman and I had seen.

He and I had talked it over. Could Liz Connor really be back in Stoneybrook? And if so, what was she after? Did she have revenge on her mind? We checked the local phone directories to see if her name was listed, but it

wasn't. We considered speaking to Mr. Kingbridge, or even to the police, but then we realized how ridiculous our story sounded. It was like something out of a bad horror movie. Finally, we couldn't think of anything else to do. The decorations were ready. Everybody's costumes were planned. Every ticket was sold. The dance was on.

I had told my friends everything I'd learned, and they were primed to keep an eye open for Liz Connor, for Mr. Wetzler, for the Mischief Knights, for anything that might happen at the dance, including an appearance by the ghost of Mr. Brown. But none of the other BSC members was as worried as I was about the outcome of the dance. How could they be? None of them had seen that awful dummy hanging in the gym, and none of them had heard the fear in Mr. Rothman's voice.

As I dressed that night, and then again as I stood in die parking lot with the other members of the BSC, I tried to forget my fears and concentrate on how much fun the dance might turn out to be. Maybe the Mischief Knights were responsible for all the pranks, and maybe the dance would go smoothly.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Either way, there was nothing else I could do. I took a deep breath and looked around

at my friends. They all wore masks to hide their identities, but of course I knew who they were. Their costumes were terrific.

Mary Anne wore a childish dress (one of the ones left over from when her father was so strict) with a pinafore over it. She wore a pigtail wig and she carried a picnic basket. She made a perfect Dorothy. The best part was that Logan had decided to dress as the Scarecrow, and together the two of them looked as if they'd just stepped out of Oz.

Originally Mal had planned to dress as a cowgirl and Jessi was going to be a ballerina. But they had decided to switch costumes, just for fun. Jessi wore a fringed leather skirt and jacket, cowboy boots, and a ten-gallon hat. She looked awesome. And Mal, wearing an old Swan Lake costume of Jessi's, looked great, too.

Abby had gone ahead with her plan to dress as Lucy Ricardo. Her mom had helped her color her hair bright red with temporary dye. She wore an old-fashioned dress like the ones Lucy wore on her show, and her mouth was outlined in red lipstick that was almost as bright as her hair.

Kristy looked dashing as Amelia Earhart. She wore a leather jacket (her brother's), high boots, a long white silk scarf, and an old-

fashioned helmet and goggles (Watson had found them for her). And Claudia looked, well, delicious as a giant Twinkie. She'd made the costume herself, using cardboard and poster paints.

How could the evening not be fun if I was spending it with such a great group? I smiled over at Robert, who made a devastating Gomez Addams in his dark suit. "Shall we go in, my dear?" he asked, stroking his glued-on mustache.

"Oui, out," I said with a smile.

"Tish! That French!" he cried. He grabbed my arm and started to kiss his way up it. I giggled. Suddenly I was in the mood to have fun. "Let’s go," I said to my friends. We headed into the school, handed over our tickets, and entered the gym.

"Awesome!" breathed Mal, taking it all in.

"You guys did a fantastic job!" Kristy exclaimed. "I've never seen this place look so cool."

"Those portraits are perfect, Claud," said Logan. "They add just the right creepy touch."

The gym did look pretty amazing. The red lights created a mood and helped hide such things as the basketball hoops. Every detail our committee had added came together to give the illusion of a creaky old mansion filled

filled with spiderwebs, weird furniture, and surprises around every corner. As Morticia Addams, I felt right at home.

The band was already playing, and plenty of people were on the dance floor. I just stood there for a while, letting my eyes become used to the darkness as I scoped out the costumes people were wearing.

"Look, there's Cokie," said Kristy, pointing to a girl in an old-fashioned bonnet and pinafore. She carried a hooked staff with ribbons tied around it. "Little Bo Peep, my eye," snorted Kristy. "That’s a laugh. She should be dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West."

I couldn't help laughing, too.

"There's Grace," said Claudia. "She looks cute. Who's her date? What a hunk!"

Sure enough, there was Grace (dressed as Snow White), dancing with an incredibly cute guy who was dressed as Prince Charming. I saw them dance right by Cokie, but Grace didn't even glance at her former best friend.

"So Ted really does exist," I murmured to myself. I was happy for Grace, and it was a relief to be absolutely certain that I'd been wrong to suspect her of the vandalism.

I saw Todd and Rick standing by the refreshments table, next to the steaming punch bowl. Todd had come as Fred Flintstone, and

Rick was Barney Rubble. Their costumes were a riot.

It was so much fun to see everyone dressed up that I almost forgot my fears about the evening. But then Mr. Rothman danced by, dressed as a football player (including helmet and shoulder pads). He gave me a look over his date's shoulder, and I knew he hadn't forgotten. Then he and his date (a substitute home ec teacher named Ms. Bryan, who was dressed as a vampire, in a long, black cloak with a hood) whirled away, leaving me with a queasy feeling.

Liz Connor might be somewhere in that crowd, and if she was, she could be ready to make trouble. Or the troublemaker might be Mr. Wetzter, or the Mischief Knights. Or — gulp — the ghost of Mr. Brown. And there wasn't just a middle school dance at stake. This was serious business. If one of those people pulled a prank and the crowd panicked, people could be hurt or even killed.

It had happened before.

I was lost in thought, but Robert brought me back to reality by asking me to dance. I hadn't told him anything about my fears, since I wanted this night to be fun. I just smiled at him and followed him onto the dance floor. Robert is an excellent dancer. I think it's be-

cause he's a- good athlete and knows how to move his body without feeling self-conscious. We danced to three fast songs until I was out of breath, and then settled into a slow one. I rested my head on Robert's shoulder and relaxed. For a few sweet moments, I forgot everything but the feeling of Robert's arms around me.

Then I felt his arms tighten. "Whoa!" he said. "Check it out!"

I lifted my head and looked around. "What?" I asked.

"That guy's costume is great," he said, nodding toward a figure looming nearby.

I looked closer and realized it was Cary Retlin, dancing with Sabrina Bouvier, who was dressed as Cleopatra. Gary's face barely showed through a peephole in the huge papier-mâché horse head he wore. "A horse?" I asked.

"I think he's supposed to be a chess piece," said Robert. "You know, a what’s-it-called?"