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Authors: Ann M. Martin
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who's advising the decorations committee." I bent to give the picture a closer look. "Wouldn't it be wild if this was really him, twenty-eight years ago? I didn't know he went to SMS. But it could be him. He's still just as skinny, and he has that black, curly hair." I stared at the picture. I couldn't believe my eyes.
Mary Anne was looking, too, but Abby and Kristy had already shifted their attention to another picture in the lower righthand corner of the page. "What do you think?" asked Kristy. Abby shrugged.
"Who's that?" I asked. Kristy pointed to the name, and I read it out loud. "Jerome Wetzler. Who's that?" Then I remembered, and my eyebrows flew up. "Mr. Wetzler? The guy
who's writing all those letters to the editor? Hmmmm."
"Hmmm is right," said Mary Anne. "I second that hmm!"
This was becoming very, very interesting. And it became even more so when we discovered, in the back of the yearbook, pictures of all the athletic teams. Underneath the picture of the football team, we found the name M. Rothman. If this M. Rothman was the M. Rothman I knew, it could be very significant that he was on the football team, since members of the team were suspected of being involved in the prank on the night of the dance.
I leaned forward to examine the picture more closely, and just then the loudspeaker over the library's door crackled to life. "Attention, students," someone said. It sounded sort of like Mr. Kingbridge, but it was hard to tell because of the static. "At the sound of the next bell, students in all grades are to proceed to the auditorium for a special assembly."
Chapter 10.
When the announcement was over, Claudia giggled. "Mischief Knights again," she guessed.
But she was wrong. As soon as the bell rang, the librarian shooed us out and told us to head straight for the auditorium. "Mr. Kingbridge wants everybody there," she said.
"What’s the assembly about?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
I wondered if the assembly had anything to do with the dance. "Maybe he's canceling it," I said as my friends and we walked to the auditorium. I didn't have to even explain what I meant by "it." The dance was on everybody's mind.
But, as it turned out, the assembly wasn't about the dance at .all. It was a special presentation by a community theatre group, about how to say no when your friends try to
talk you into doing things you don't want to do. We've already heard a lot about that, and I actually had to do it (say no), once when Sheik and her friends were trying to talk me into drinking at this concert we went to. So I thought I'd be bored. But the skits they performed turned out to be pretty funny, and soon everyone in the auditorium was laughing.
Since this was a special assembly, we could sit wherever we wanted. The BSC members had claimed a row in the back of the left side of the auditorium, and no teachers were nearby. Ordinarily, we might have talked and giggled, but the theatre group grabbed our attention. I was sitting between Claudia and Jessi, near the aisle, so I had a good view of the audience and of the stage.
I especially liked one actress. She had a kind of glow, as if she really loved what she was doing. She was pretty,, with big, expressive eyes and a head full of red-gold curls. Plus, she was funny. She was great at the slapstick stuff, such as falls and double takes. I watched her closely, daydreaming a little about what it would be like to act professionally.
When the lights went out, I first thought it was part of the performance.
Then people started to scream, and I realized that all the lights were out in the auditorium. Instantly, I remembered what we'd found out the night before, and I felt fear rise inside me. This was like some kind of sick joke, a flashback to that night twenty-eight years earlier when the lights went out in the gym — and a person died.
I felt somebody grab my hand. It was Claudia. We peered at each other through the darkness, and I could
Mary Anne was looking, too, but Abby and Kristy had already shifted their attention to another picture in the lower righthand corner of the page. "What do you think?" asked Kristy. Abby shrugged.
"Who's that?" I asked. Kristy pointed to the name, and I read it out loud. "Jerome Wetzler. Who's that?" Then I remembered, and my eyebrows flew up. "Mr. Wetzler? The guy
who's writing all those letters to the editor? Hmmmm."
"Hmmm is right," said Mary Anne. "I second that hmm!"
This was becoming very, very interesting. And it became even more so when we discovered, in the back of the yearbook, pictures of all the athletic teams. Underneath the picture of the football team, we found the name M. Rothman. If this M. Rothman was the M. Rothman I knew, it could be very significant that he was on the football team, since members of the team were suspected of being involved in the prank on the night of the dance.
I leaned forward to examine the picture more closely, and just then the loudspeaker over the library's door crackled to life. "Attention, students," someone said. It sounded sort of like Mr. Kingbridge, but it was hard to tell because of the static. "At the sound of the next bell, students in all grades are to proceed to the auditorium for a special assembly."
Chapter 10.
When the announcement was over, Claudia giggled. "Mischief Knights again," she guessed.
But she was wrong. As soon as the bell rang, the librarian shooed us out and told us to head straight for the auditorium. "Mr. Kingbridge wants everybody there," she said.
"What’s the assembly about?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
I wondered if the assembly had anything to do with the dance. "Maybe he's canceling it," I said as my friends and we walked to the auditorium. I didn't have to even explain what I meant by "it." The dance was on everybody's mind.
But, as it turned out, the assembly wasn't about the dance at .all. It was a special presentation by a community theatre group, about how to say no when your friends try to
talk you into doing things you don't want to do. We've already heard a lot about that, and I actually had to do it (say no), once when Sheik and her friends were trying to talk me into drinking at this concert we went to. So I thought I'd be bored. But the skits they performed turned out to be pretty funny, and soon everyone in the auditorium was laughing.
Since this was a special assembly, we could sit wherever we wanted. The BSC members had claimed a row in the back of the left side of the auditorium, and no teachers were nearby. Ordinarily, we might have talked and giggled, but the theatre group grabbed our attention. I was sitting between Claudia and Jessi, near the aisle, so I had a good view of the audience and of the stage.
I especially liked one actress. She had a kind of glow, as if she really loved what she was doing. She was pretty,, with big, expressive eyes and a head full of red-gold curls. Plus, she was funny. She was great at the slapstick stuff, such as falls and double takes. I watched her closely, daydreaming a little about what it would be like to act professionally.
When the lights went out, I first thought it was part of the performance.
Then people started to scream, and I realized that all the lights were out in the auditorium. Instantly, I remembered what we'd found out the night before, and I felt fear rise inside me. This was like some kind of sick joke, a flashback to that night twenty-eight years earlier when the lights went out in the gym — and a person died.
I felt somebody grab my hand. It was Claudia. We peered at each other through the darkness, and I could
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