Baby-Sitters Beware

Author:Ann M. Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2014-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

That freaked us all out. But it was, as Kristy pointed out, “hard evidence.” She convinced Mary Anne to put the note in an envelope, “in case there were any fingerprints left,” and to bring it to the BSC meeting the next day.

I was thinking about the note as I walked to Claudia’s that Friday afternoon. I was also thinking about the crank calls, and yes, Shadow Lake.

It was late afternoon, one of those gloomy, shadowy, cold days that are completely depressing unless you’re thinking, as I was, Hmmm, looks like it might snow.

I peered up at the sky. I stepped off the curb.

The car came out of nowhere.

I turned. It was heading toward me, picking up speed as it approached. It was a huge car, shiny and red and powerful-looking. The motor sounded like the roar of the subway, bearing down on me.

I froze.

I put my hands out as if that would stop the car, as if that would keep it from running right over me, from killing me.

This is it, I thought. I’m going to die.

I screamed and closed my eyes, and waited for the car to hit me. I had time to wonder if it would hurt.

The driver must have braked at the last minute. I heard the screech of tires as it swerved, and I opened my eyes as it hurtled past, inches away. I felt the wind brush my hands as the car sped by me.

I turned to watch it go. It careened crazily down the street and around the corner with another scream of tires.

I realized that I was standing in the street with my hands raised. I lowered them.

I hadn’t been able to see the license plate number, although I’d seen that it was a Connecticut plate. But I’d recognized the Mercedes symbol on the hood. And I’d also recognized the blue hexagonal sticker on the rear bumper.

Whoever had almost run over me was a lousy driver in a very good car. And he — or she — was also a member of the Stoneybrook Business Bureau.

I don’t remember the rest of the walk to the BSC meeting, or what I thought about, except one thing: I could hardly wait to get out of Stoneybrook. Things here were way, way out of control.

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