in the gift shop that I first felt that creepy sensation of being watched. I looked all around the shop. The only person staring at me was a baby riding in a pack on his mother's back. When I looked at him, he smiled and. drooled. The creepy feeling was not coming from the baby — but it didn't go away.
We ate a quick lunch in the fast-food restaurant near the shop. Then we left the museum. Stacey whispered to me, "Let's go right to the library without passing the bicycle rack. Maybe the kids will forget about their balloons." At almost the same time, Rowena said, "Let's see if our pets are still here." Inwardly, I groaned. Stacey and I had no choice but to go back to the bike rack.
From quite a distance, Alistaire let out a yell. "There they are!" Stacey and I peered ahead. Sure enough, two balloons were blowing back and forth in the light breeze.
"Well, I'm surprised," said Stacey.
"Me, too," I replied. "These balloons are red and blue. They were red and green when we left. Rowena wanted a green balloon, remember?" "I guess," said Stacey slowly.
By then, the kids had untied the balloons and helped each other fasten them to their wrists. Rowena didn't say a thing about the color of her balloon.
Maybe I was losing my mind.
Our next stop was a nearby branch of the public library. Stacey had a New York Public Library card and thought the children might have fun choosing books to read during their stay in the city. Then I discovered that a^sto-rytelling hour was to be held in the children's room that afternoon. We had plenty of time to look for books before the program began.
When we reached the library, we stood outside and I wondered what to do about the balloons. This time, Alistaire saved me. "Let's let our pets go, Rowena," he said. "They want their freedom." So the children released the balloons and watched them float above the branches of a tree and then behind a tall building.
In the library, the kids looked solemnly through the shelves of children's books, and each chose four, which Stacey checked out for them. She waited on line, standing just two places ahead of another man wearing sunglasses and a rain hat. I shivered — and realized I'd had that feeling of being watched while Rowena and Alistaire browsed through the books.
The weirdest thing, though, was that the man came to hear the storyteller, even though he was alone.
"You don't think that's strange?" I asked Stacey. "Do you see any other adults without children in this room?" "No," she replied. "But big deal. So he likes storytelling. It's a lost art, you know." However, Stacey did agree that something was odd when I saw yet another guy wearing sunglasses and a rain hat as we walked back to the Dakota. He was about a block behind us.
"Wait a minute!" I cried softly. "Stacey, how stupid I've been! I haven't been seeing strange men all over the city. I've been seeing the same strange man. We're being followed." "Why would anyone follow us?" asked Stacey.
"Well, maybe he's not following you and me," I replied. "Maybe he's following Alistaire and Rowena. Their parents are pretty important." "You're crazy/' was Stacey's answer. "And don't you dare say a word about this when we get back to the Harringtons'. Do you want us to lose the job?" "I'd rather lose the job than the children." Stacey just shook her head.
Dawn.
Chapter 11.
Nobody stayed at home with me on Tuesday. I understood that Mr. McGill had to work, and that Claud, Mal, Stacey, and Mary Anne were busy. But what about Kristy and Jessi? They abandoned me. Maybe they didn't realize how frightened I was.
I had made the major mistake of listening to the news in the morning. That was when I heard all that murder stuff. (I was pretty sure I'd never see my friends alive again.) Maybe I should call Mom and tell her I was coming home early. No. I couldn't do that. The rest of the BSC members would never let me forget it. Even Jessi and Mal weren't scared, and they're two years younger than I am. I knew I had to
We ate a quick lunch in the fast-food restaurant near the shop. Then we left the museum. Stacey whispered to me, "Let's go right to the library without passing the bicycle rack. Maybe the kids will forget about their balloons." At almost the same time, Rowena said, "Let's see if our pets are still here." Inwardly, I groaned. Stacey and I had no choice but to go back to the bike rack.
From quite a distance, Alistaire let out a yell. "There they are!" Stacey and I peered ahead. Sure enough, two balloons were blowing back and forth in the light breeze.
"Well, I'm surprised," said Stacey.
"Me, too," I replied. "These balloons are red and blue. They were red and green when we left. Rowena wanted a green balloon, remember?" "I guess," said Stacey slowly.
By then, the kids had untied the balloons and helped each other fasten them to their wrists. Rowena didn't say a thing about the color of her balloon.
Maybe I was losing my mind.
Our next stop was a nearby branch of the public library. Stacey had a New York Public Library card and thought the children might have fun choosing books to read during their stay in the city. Then I discovered that a^sto-rytelling hour was to be held in the children's room that afternoon. We had plenty of time to look for books before the program began.
When we reached the library, we stood outside and I wondered what to do about the balloons. This time, Alistaire saved me. "Let's let our pets go, Rowena," he said. "They want their freedom." So the children released the balloons and watched them float above the branches of a tree and then behind a tall building.
In the library, the kids looked solemnly through the shelves of children's books, and each chose four, which Stacey checked out for them. She waited on line, standing just two places ahead of another man wearing sunglasses and a rain hat. I shivered — and realized I'd had that feeling of being watched while Rowena and Alistaire browsed through the books.
The weirdest thing, though, was that the man came to hear the storyteller, even though he was alone.
"You don't think that's strange?" I asked Stacey. "Do you see any other adults without children in this room?" "No," she replied. "But big deal. So he likes storytelling. It's a lost art, you know." However, Stacey did agree that something was odd when I saw yet another guy wearing sunglasses and a rain hat as we walked back to the Dakota. He was about a block behind us.
"Wait a minute!" I cried softly. "Stacey, how stupid I've been! I haven't been seeing strange men all over the city. I've been seeing the same strange man. We're being followed." "Why would anyone follow us?" asked Stacey.
"Well, maybe he's not following you and me," I replied. "Maybe he's following Alistaire and Rowena. Their parents are pretty important." "You're crazy/' was Stacey's answer. "And don't you dare say a word about this when we get back to the Harringtons'. Do you want us to lose the job?" "I'd rather lose the job than the children." Stacey just shook her head.
Dawn.
Chapter 11.
Nobody stayed at home with me on Tuesday. I understood that Mr. McGill had to work, and that Claud, Mal, Stacey, and Mary Anne were busy. But what about Kristy and Jessi? They abandoned me. Maybe they didn't realize how frightened I was.
I had made the major mistake of listening to the news in the morning. That was when I heard all that murder stuff. (I was pretty sure I'd never see my friends alive again.) Maybe I should call Mom and tell her I was coming home early. No. I couldn't do that. The rest of the BSC members would never let me forget it. Even Jessi and Mal weren't scared, and they're two years younger than I am. I knew I had to
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