The Baby-Sitters Club Super Mystery #3: Baby-Sitters' Fright Night by Ann M. Martin

Author:Ann M. Martin [Martin, Ann M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Social Themes, Friendship, Adolescence, Mysteries & Detective Stories
ISBN: 9780545768757
Google: LRQ4AwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2014-07-29T09:07:29.410000+00:00

By we, I mean the five of us plus Eileen. I went back to my room and invited her. I expected her to say no, but she didn’t. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that we had been buddies in the parade. When she said yes, I wasn’t sure I was entirely happy about it. Did being nice to her mean I was going to be teased by Cokie now, too?

I tried not to think about that, first because it was cowardly to care what someone like Cokie Mason said, and second because I had more important things to think about, such as the mystery of the Witch’s Eye.

Mary Anne made a brief detour, to say good night to Nidia Garcia as she had promised. She also reported the break-in to Mrs. Garcia, who made sure the hotel changed the key code on the door.

Downstairs by the fire, we found Martha Kempner. She waved us over and said, “Great hot chocolate. Just what I needed after all that Halloween madness.”

“Did you go to the parade?” asked Eileen. She was leaning forward, her face almost animated. I realized that in school, she often spoke up. But on this trip, Cokie’s teasing had silenced her.

“Yes,” replied Ms. Kempner. “I considered it part of my research, as well as a lot of fun.”

“Are you still going to write your article on the Witch’s Eye?” I asked. “I mean, now that it’s missing?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, of course, that it is gone, but in a way, it will make this an even better story. After all, it certainly ties in with the curse.”

Eileen spoke again. “The curse? There’s a curse on the diamond?”

“Yes. It has a history of bad luck, of causing dire misfortune — even death — to all who encounter it.”

“Just like my pumpkin,” I heard Abby mutter.

Martha glanced her way, looking amused.

“Will you tell me about it? The curse?” I asked.

The amused look deepened. Ms. Kempner leaned forward, her mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands, and stared into the fireplace at the leaping flames.

“Once upon a time, in Europe, long ago, a beautiful young woman was burned at the stake, put to death as a witch. Some say she was accused because she rejected the attentions of a rich and jealous suitor, preferring to stay single. Others said it was because of her eyes, which were an unusual pale golden brown. At any rate, when the fire was lit (they say) she called out a terrible curse. The fire roared up then, so brightly that no one could look at it. Then it died away. The stunned onlookers found that not a stick of wood had burned, and there was no sign of the woman at all.

“But lying among the strangely warm branches was a single large stone, a jewel such as none of the villagers had ever seen before.

“The rich suitor — a prince, perhaps — who had witnessed the affair, seized the jewel.

“Within days, his castle had burned to the ground, and everything in it was destroyed.

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