“And so, based on their persuasive arguments, their excellent reasoning, their speaking skills, and the quality of their rebuttals, I award this debate to the affirmative team, Team DKK.” The judge smiled down at us.

Yesss! I had to fight the urge to do a victory dance and throw my fist in the air. That kind of behavior apparently isn’t considered appropriate at a debate. Instead, it seems, you stand there smiling at your teammates. Then you shake hands with the other team (no chants of “two, four, six, eight” either) and thank the judge.

If you haven’t already guessed, Team DKK is my team: David, Kristy, and Kai.

Kai and David looked as happy as I felt as we walked out of the room. “We did it!” David said.

“Your rebuttal was excellent,” I told him as we gave each other a high five. “The other team thought they had us with that hairball argument, but you came right back at them.”

Kai laughed. “I think our opening arguments were awesome too. We had all the strongest points lined right up. And you spoke really well, Kristy.”

We had planned to take turns doing opening arguments, and I’d been a little nervous about being the first on our team to do one. But it had gone well. I’d tried to remember everything I’d learned about speaking clearly and concisely, and I’d remembered to use natural-looking gestures to emphasize certain points.

Suddenly, I was exhausted. And starving. “Isn’t it time for dinner?” I asked.

Kai checked his watch. “The dining room should be open,” he answered. “Want to go see?”

“You guys go ahead,” said David. “I’m, um, going to go change first.” Suddenly, he seemed uncomfortable again. I had the feeling he didn’t want to sit at a table with us, where the conversation might be less about cats and dogs and more about personal things.

That was fine. Kai and I sat with Melissa, Abby, and Lucas, and we had a good time. We chatted with this great brother-sister debating team, Alexandra and Scott Toombs, who were in the two-person event. After dinner a dance was held in a big meeting room on the third floor. The lights were low, and the DJ was playing dorky music from the eighties. Abby and Kai and I hung out near the refreshments table, but Melissa and Lucas headed for the dance floor. They danced every dance as if it were a slow one, no matter what the beat. They looked as if they were in a different world.

After awhile, Abby glanced at me. “Want to get out of here?” she asked. “We can go hang out in our room.”

“I’m so ready,” I answered. “You don’t mind, do you, Kai?”

He shook his head. “I’m out of here too,” he said. “See you tomorrow, okay? We should do some more preparing before our next debate. Come up with some fresh arguments.”

“Definitely,” I said. “Team DKK has to stay on top.”

“You’re not the only ones who won today,” Abby pointed out. “Don’t start getting cocky.” Her team (they’d named themselves Team Lincoln, after Abraham Lincoln, one of the best debaters in history) had won its first round too.

When we arrived back in our room Abby closed herself in the bathroom to relax in the tub, and I headed for the phone. I’d been thinking, ever since I met David Hawthorne, that I’d like to check with Stacey about her memories of Terry Hoyt. I plopped down on the bed and dialed Stacey’s number.

“Stacey, it’s Kristy,” I said when she answered.

“Kristy!” she said, surprised. “Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly.”

“Aren’t you in Washington?”

“Yup. But there’s something I wanted to ask you about. Someone, really. It’s Terry Hoyt. Remember him?”

Stacey hesitated. “Uh, sure,” she said after a couple of seconds. “I remember Terry. Why?”

“It’s just that there’s this guy at the debate convention who looks exactly like him,” I told her. “But he swears his name is David Hawthorne, and that he’s never heard of Stoneybrook. Weird, huh?”

“Very weird.” Stacey sounded strange. “David Hawthorne, you said?”

“Right. He lives here in D.C., and he’s on a debate team. He’s here with his friend, who happens to be Melissa’s boyfriend. This guy she met at camp. They’re all over each other. It’s really gross.”

Stacey was silent.

“Stace?”

“Oh, right. Gross. I heard you.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to know if you had any idea what happened to Terry. He moved away pretty suddenly, didn’t he?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t know where to, though.”

“So you lost touch with him?”

“Right. We lost touch.”

I thanked Stacey, said good-bye, and hung up, feeling as if she wasn’t telling me something. But if she didn’t know, she didn’t know. Terry was probably in California or Oklahoma or somewhere, clueless about the fact that he had a double who was living in Washington.

I didn’t have much time to think about our conversation because the phone rang as soon as I hung up. “Hello?” I said.

“Kristy, it’s Kai. I was just thinking — as long as we’re not at the dance, maybe Team DKK should spend some time tonight practicing for tomorrow.”

“Great,” I said. “That will really give us an edge.”

“I’ll call David,” said Kai. “We can meet in the lobby, okay?”

“See you in ten minutes,” I said.

“Where are you headed?” asked Abby, who had just emerged from the tub. “What’s going to give you an edge?”

“I’m meeting with David and Kai.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You guys are serious.”

“I guess we are.” I put my notebook and a couple of pens into my backpack and headed for the door. As I left, I noticed that Abby was already on the phone, calling her teammates.

I stepped into the hall and saw someone walking toward me from the other end.

It was David.

“Hey,” I said.

“Oh! Hey,” he answered. He didn’t look entirely thrilled to see me.

“Kai called,” I said. “Did he call you too?”

David nodded. He looked over his shoulder, toward his room.

“So, what do you think we can do differently tomorrow?” I asked, ignoring his weird behavior.

“Um,” said David, glancing over his shoulder again as we walked toward the elevator.

“I think we should be more aggressive with our arguments,” I suggested. “You know, really jump in. If we leave any room for doubt, the other team will pick up on it.”

David nodded. “Uh-huh.” I had the feeling he wasn’t really listening.

“So, have you come up with any more good reasons why cats make better pets?” I asked.

David drew a little closer to me and muttered something under his breath.

“What?” I figured he was being secretive, in case someone from another team was listening, which seemed overly cautious to me. After all, we were walking down an empty hall.

“I said, we’re being followed,” David repeated, just loudly enough so I could hear him.

“Followed?” I grinned. “You mean, by somebody from a rival team?”

He shook his head. And he didn’t smile back. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder yet again. As he did, we came to a corner. On the wall ahead of us was a large mirror, mounted over a table holding a vase of flowers. I looked into the mirror. Sure enough, someone was walking far behind us, a man in a dark shirt and black jeans.

“How do you know he’s following us?” I asked, keeping my voice low in order to humor David.

“He’s not following us,” David answered in a whisper. “He’s following me. So go on.”

“What do you mean?” I asked indignantly. If David really was being followed by some strange guy in dark clothing, I wasn’t about to take off and leave him alone to deal with it. “I’m staying with you.”

David frowned. Just then, we reached the elevator. I stretched a finger toward the DOWN button.

But David grabbed my hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling me toward the stairway door, which was directly across the hall from the elevator. “Run!” He opened the door and shoved me through it. Then he yanked the door shut behind us and we scrambled down the stairs. Above us, the door opened and shut again as the man entered the stairwell.

David really was being followed.

I ran, my heart beating hard with excitement — and fear.

We ran down three flights of stairs, then one more, and then we started down another. The man drew closer every second. I felt as if I were in a chase scene in some action movie. It was almost as if this were happening to someone else.

“We’re nearly at the lobby,” David said, panting. “Keep running, Kristy.”

We were just a few steps away from the bottom of the stairs — the door to the lobby was in sight — when the man lunged for David. I screamed as loudly as I could, while David shoved the man away.

The man staggered backward, nearly fell, then caught himself. “Not so fast, Hawthorne,” he said. “Your father is going to pay.” He lunged a second time and grabbed David by the shirt.

I screamed again.

“Run!” David yelled.

I flew down the last steps, threw open the door to the lobby, and ran screaming toward the desk. Within moments, four security guards appeared. “A boy is being kidnapped!” I yelled, pointing toward the door to the stairs.

They sprinted for the door, and I followed them. When they opened it, neither David nor the man was in sight.

But David’s backpack lay on the landing, papers spilling out of it.

Two of the guards ran down the stairs toward the basement and the indoor parking garage. The other two ran up.

I had a feeling that I should follow the ones who had headed downstairs, so I did. As soon as we burst through the door into the parking garage, I spotted David. The man in the dark clothes was dragging him toward a long black car. “There he is!” I yelled, pointing. The guards sprinted toward the man, who pushed David to the ground and took off, running.

“David!” I cried. “Are you okay?” I helped him up as the security guards chased after the kidnapper. A young woman who had been behind the reception desk appeared next to me.

“I’ll help you,” she said, taking David’s other arm. We supported him as he rose shakily to his feet.

“Are you okay?” I repeated.

David thought for a moment. “I guess so,” he said, sounding dazed. “Just a little bruised.” He took a few limping steps. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”

We helped him hobble to the stairway. As we made our way toward the lobby, the security guards reappeared — empty-handed.

“You didn’t catch him?” I asked.

They shook their heads.

The kidnapper was out there somewhere.