The sports arena was crowded this morning, Henry noticed as they walked inside with Katya. More athletes and coaches had arrived overnight.
A press center had been set up between two sections of bleachers. Men and women with badges that said PRESS walked among the gymnasts stretching on the blue mats.
Irina, Katya’s coach, came over. “You will do your beam sets first this morning. And, Katya, you must hit your mark on every routine today. The competition is three days away.”
Jessie helped Katya take off her warm-up suit. “Are you worried about Friday?” she asked.
“I will do my best,” Katya said matter-of-factly.
Then she began her exercises, followed by vigorous stretching. The Aldens were allowed to watch by the edge of the mat.
“You’re so flexible,” Henry remarked. “What is that pose you are doing?”
Katya was standing on her right leg. With ease, she picked up her left heel in her left hand and drew it up to shoulder-height, her left leg straight.
“It is called a Y scale,” she replied.
Benny decided to try it. He brought his foot up, but had to bend his knee. He wobbled like a top.
Violet began to giggle. "You look like a pretzel!"
“My coach is waving me over,” Katya told the Aldens. “I must go.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Violet said. “Guess we’d better find a seat in the bleachers. They’re almost full today.”
As she turned, she glanced over at the press area. Tables and chairs had been placed behind a plastic chain so only journalists and photographers would use them.
Then Violet saw something that made her stop in her tracks.
Benny nearly ran into his sister. “What is it?” he asked.
“That man over there,” she said, pointing to the press section where a dark-haired man adjusted a camera. “It’s Al Stockton! Our mystery man!”
Jessie and Henry stared, too.
“You’re right!” Jessie declared. “It’s the same man we saw in the airport.”
“And the one who mistakenly took Katya’s bag and came to our house to get his,” Henry added. “What on earth is he doing here?”
As if he felt their attention, the man looked up. When he saw the Alden children, his face turned red.
Today he wasn’t wearing his yellow cap, but a wrinkled suit and a purple shirt. His press badge was clipped to an orange-and-purple tie. He was dressed differently from the way he had been at the airport, but the scowl that drew his brows together was the same.
Al Stockton unhooked the plastic chain and rushed over to the Aldens.
“What are you kids doing here?” he demanded.
Henry wondered why the man was always so rude but answered politely. “We’re with our houseguest. You remember, you had her bag. She’s a gymnast.”
“Well, you better stay out of the press box,” Al warned them. A camera was draped around his neck.
Benny looked over at the tables and chairs. “What box? I don’t see any box.”
“That’s what the press area is called,” Al told him. “It’s only for media people. No nosy kids allowed.”
Jessie was insulted at being called nosy. Like her older brother, she tried to be polite. “Are you a photographer?”
Al held up his camera. “What do you think? I was sent here to cover the competition for the Register. Now, if you kids don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
Then he stalked off across the floor.
Jessie put her hands on her hips. “The nerve of that man! He was the one who came running over here to talk to us! I bet he’s not even a real photographer.”
“Can you tell, Violet?” asked Benny.
As the family photographer, Violet knew a lot about cameras and picture-taking. She observed Al kneeling to snap shots of boy gymnasts performing on the rings that dangled from the ceiling. As much as she disliked the man, he definitely knew how to use his camera.
“He’s a professional, all right,” she concluded.
“Look,” said Benny. “He’s taking pictures of Katya.”
Sure enough, the black-haired man was snapping picture after picture of Katya as she performed her complicated routine on the balance beam. He got so close that Katya missed an aerial somersault and fell to the mat.
Although the Aldens couldn’t hear from the bleachers, they could see Katya’s coach, Irina, shouting at Al and drawing an invisible line on the mat. Al stepped back, scowling even more.
When another of Katya’s teammates took her place on the beam, Katya came over for a quick break.
“That awful man is taking pictures of me!” she exclaimed, taking the water bottle Violet handed her.
“I know,” said Jessie. “We couldn’t believe it when we saw him. Of all the people to be here!”
“He’s covering the competition for a newspaper,” Henry said. “I hope he isn’t making you nervous.”
“Normally, people do not make me nervous,” said Katya. “But I think he is concentrating too much on me.”
Violet pulled Katya’s towel from her sports bag. “It probably seems that way. Photographers have to take a lot of pictures. Sometimes their pictures don’t turn out, so they snap roll after roll.”
Benny was watching the balance beam area. “He’s not there now. So he must be taking pictures someplace else. Katya, that fence rail you walk on looks awfully small.”
Katya laughed. “Benny you can always make me laugh! It’s a balance beam, not a fence rail. It is always four feet from the floor, sixteen feet long, and four inches wide. Our routines must have grace, poise, and courage to be scored highly.”
Henry whistled. “It takes a lot of courage to do that somersault in the air like you did.”
“Yes,” agreed Katya. “Although I am used to it now. The difficult part about that move is that I do not know where the beam is when I am upside down. My feet could miss.”
“Four inches! Something that little is easy to miss,” Violet said. “Katya, your coach is waving.”
“I must go.” Katya gave them all a smile. “Thank you for staying with me during practice.”
This time Katya trotted over to the uneven parallel bars. She rubbed her hands with chalk, grabbed the lowest bar, and swung herself up.
Just then Al Stockton appeared and began taking pictures of Katya as she worked through her routine.
“There he is again!” Jessie cried. “Katya’s right. He seems to be taking more pictures of her than anyone else.”
“But why?” Violet wondered aloud. “He’s supposed to take pictures of all the gymnasts, not just one.”
“At least Katya is doing okay,” Henry put in. “She’s not looking at him.”
“I wouldn’t look at him, either,” a strange voice said behind them.
The Aldens turned to see a young man. He had light-colored hair and wore jeans and a dark blue sweater over a white shirt. Behind wire-framed glasses, his eyes were dark blue.
“Who are you?” Benny asked.
“Lucas Tripp,” said the young man. “I’m a reporter from the Greenfield Times. I’m covering the competition. And who might you be?”
Benny was confused by the question. “I might be anybody. But I’m really Benny Alden.”
Lucas threw his head back and laughed. “Great comeback, Benny Alden!”
Jessie held out a hand. “Our brother is never at a loss for words. I’m Jessie Alden. This is Violet and Henry.”
“Nice to meet you,” said the reporter.
“What did you say about the man who keeps taking pictures of our friend?” Henry wanted to know.
“I was just making a joke,” Lucas replied. “That dark-haired fellow doesn’t get along with the rest of us in the press box.”
“He took Katya’s bag at the airport,” Benny blurted. “Then Katya took his by mistake. And then he came to our house and wasn’t very nice to Katya. He acted like she had looked in his suitcase. But she hadn’t.”
Lucas nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds like Mr. Al Stockton. He growls like a bear if anybody comes near his camera.”
Benny giggled, then growled himself.
“Tell me about your friend,” Lucas said smoothly. “I might use her as the focal point of my story.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jessie. She liked Lucas but was a bit suspicious of him. Everyone seemed interested in Katya. Maybe a little too interested.
“It’s a reporting technique,” Lucas replied. “When I cover a big event, such as this competition, it helps the reader understand if I concentrate on one athlete. Tell the story from his or her point of view.”
Henry looked at Jessie. He was wary of Lucas Tripp himself. “Here comes Katya now,” he said. “We’ll introduce you. You can ask her yourself if she wants to give an interview.”
Katya was tired from her bar routine. “I had to do it six times before I got it right,” she said. Then she saw Lucas and smiled shyly.
“This is Lucas Tripp,” said Violet. “He’s a reporter for the Greenfield Times. He wants to ask you questions.”
Instantly Katya stiffened. “What questions?”
Lucas brought out his notebook and pen. “Just about your life in Russia.... Is that where you’re from? Your home, things like that.”
Katya’s eyes grew wary. “There is nothing to tell.”
“Well, of course there is!” Lucas said cheerfully. “Everyone has a family. What is yours like?”
Flicking a glance at the Aldens, Katya dropped her voice to a mumble. “You should talk to someone more interesting than me. I do not have a very exciting life.”
“Our readers will think anything you say is interesting,” Lucas urged. “Now, tell me about your family and where you live.”
Katya’s voice became a monotone, as if she were reading from the phone book. “I live in a small town near St. Petersburg. I have a mother, a father, a brother, a sister and grandparents. I train at the gym every day. I go to school. Then I train some more.”
Lucas wrote quickly. “Very good. What else?”
“That is all I have to say, Mr. Tripp. I must go now.”
The Aldens and Lucas stared as Katya ran to the bleachers to pull on her warm-up suit.
“We have to go, too,” Henry said. “Excuse us.”
As they walked toward the bleachers, Violet said, “Katya didn’t want to talk again!”
“Why is she afraid to tell people about her life?” Violet wanted to know. “It’s almost like Katya isn’t who she says she is.”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head, Violet!” Jessie exclaimed. “Katya might be somebody else!” |