outside," Mallory told them as they grabbed ice cream from the freezer and cupcakes from the top of the refrigerator.
"Yeah, like we're really scared of you, Mallory," Adam said as he filled his arms with containers of juice and chocolate milk from the refrigerator.
Mallory looked to Kristy for help.
"Drop it, you guys," Kristy commanded. Then she gave them the Look.
Without another word, the triplets began putting back the food.
The front door bell rang again. Kristy sighed in exasperation. "I'll get it." This time, she went to the window first and peeked through the curtains. She didn't see anyone, but the bushes beneath the window were shaking as if someone were moving below them. Kristy sprang to the door and pulled it open.
Looking sharply to the right, she saw a kid's jeans and boots disappear around the corner of the house. She tore out of the doorway and ran to the side of the house. Whoever had been there was fast because he'd completely disappeared.
It wasn't until Kristy returned to the front door that she noticed the envelope taped to it. On the front was written Crusty.
Kristy opened the envelope as she entered the house. She took out a piece of paper and saw written on it in a child's handwriting: "What's that?" Mallory asked, looking over Kristy 's shoulder.
"Just some hate mail from a few of my fans," Kristy replied wryly.
"How dumb," Mal commented as she read the note. "Vanessa!" she cried.
Vanessa came in from the kitchen. "What's the matter?" "You like to write poetry," Mal said, showing her the note. "What do you know about this?" Vanessa read the note then looked up with wide, innocent eyes. "I didn't write this," she said.
"Do you know who did?" Mallory asked.
"I never saw it before in my life." Vanessa turned and hurried upstairs.
Kristy and Mal looked at one another. "That may be so," said Mal, "but she didn't say she doesn't know who wrote it." Mallory headed for the stairs. "I'll get to the bottom of this," she said.
"Don't bother," said Kristy. "It's just kids being dumb. I wonder if it has anything to do with Kristy's Krushers? I sometimes get this kind of stuff when the Krushers win a lot of games in a row. The Bashers get angry. You know, sore losers. But it's winter. The season hasn't even started." The phone rang again. This time Mal picked it up, but all she heard was a click as someone on the other end hung up.
By the time Mrs. Pike returned at five, the doorbell had rung two more times, and Kristy had found an unflattering picture of herself drawn in crayon shoved under the front door. Also, someone on the phone had muttered, "Beware, you are headed for doom, Crusty." "What's going on?" Mal asked as they headed to Claudia's house. , "I have no idea," said Kristy. And for Kristy, that was a first.
"Well, you're turning into your father's daughter," Mom said to me on Saturday morning as she came into my bedroom and opened the curtains, letting in a flood of sunshine.
I peeked out from under my covers. I couldn't believe how tired I was even though I'd slept eight hours. At least I thought I'd slept eight hours until I glanced at the clock on the stand beside my bed. It was ten o'clock. I'd slept twelve hours! I never do that! Rubbing my eyes, I sat up in bed. "What do you mean, my father's daughter?" I asked Mom. What was she talking about?
"You're becoming a workaholic just like your father." "Huh? Why did you say that?" Mom turned to me and smiled, but her smile seemed forced. "Well, in the morning, you're up and running to school. Then you race to the Cheplins'. Three days a week you hurry from there to your club meetings. You gulp down dinner so you can get to your homework. When you finish it, you're so exhausted you fall into bed. Just like your father." I knew
Sandra V. Feder, Susan Mitchell