Monday, April 30, 1984

        School dragged for Trixie.  The halls were buzzing with gossip and excitement as students spoke dramatically about the events of the dance.  Trixie listened to the speculation, some of it more wild than others, as she moved between classes with Honey and Diana.  Trixie’s mind was spinning in a thousand different directions, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down and brainstorm with her partner and fellow Bob-Whites.  However, school was in the way.

        After hours of sitting and not listening to her teachers droning, lunchtime finally arrived.  Trixie was first to the cafeteria, and she quickly secured a large table close to the back wall.  She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite while she waited for the rest of the Bob-Whites.  Brian and Jim arrived next.  Jim took the seat next to Trixie, smiling at her as he opened his brown bag. 

        “I heard that Mr. Stratton is calling for an all school assembly seventh period.”  Brian told his sister, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

        “I heard that, too.”  Trixie turned to see Dan and Mart standing behind her, Josie between them.  Mart took Josie’s tray, setting it on the table.  Dan sat himself next to her, while Mart sat next to Trixie, finishing his comment.  “But rumor has it that the local constabulary will be appearing at the lectern as well.”

        “What did you just say?” Diana asked, sliding into the seat next to Mart.  Honey placed her tray next to Brian and tilted her head to hear the answer.

        “I think he just said that Sergeant Molinson will be at the special assembly this afternoon,”  Trixie told them.  She grinned at Josie, who was sitting across the table from her.  “But with Mart, it’s sometimes hard to tell.”

        Josie smiled, somewhat tentatively, back at Trixie.  “I’ve noticed that in Journalism class,” she said.  “I asked him if he had swallowed an encyclopedia set, but he claims it was only a dictionary.”

        Seven sets of eyes stared for a moment at Josie.  Then, the entire table burst into peals of laughter, even a somewhat sheepish looking Mart.

        “Oh, man, she’s got your number, Mart!”  Dan sputtered.

        “Busted!” chortled Trixie, while Diana patted Mart sympathetically on the shoulder.

        “Eh hem,” Honey cleared her throat.  “Maybe we should get down to business before we run out of lunch time.”

        The table immediately fell silent.  Trixie moved into President mode.  “What information do we have?” she asked.

        “I have a list of the kids who got sick from the punch,” Brian said.  “From what I understand, Josie had the worst reaction.  Only eight other students spent the night in the hospital, the rest were just treated and released.”

        “I was able to get the list of people on the refreshment committee,” Diana said.  “I also got lists of decorating and music committees.  I figured we could look at everyone who helped at the dance.”

        “Good thinking, Diana,” Jim spoke up.  “I asked Mrs. Lee for the names of the eighth graders helping at the dance.  She said I could pick up her list after school.”

        “I’m going to ask Mr. Zimmermann for editorial space,” Josie volunteered.  “I want to write about the experience, and I thought maybe Mart could help me interview the other students who were drugged.  I was thinking that if we really shake things up, maybe someone will come clean about the whole thing.”

        “How would that shake things up?”  Trixie asked.

        “I think it would put a face on the issue,” Josie said flatly.  “Drugging the punch wasn’t just some silly prank.  It hurt people.  It hurt me, and I think people should know just how...violated I feel.  How all of us who were drugged, and those who were with us when it happened, feel about it!  Somebody thought it was funny, but it wasn’t!  It was scary and it was dangerous.  Someone out there knows who and why.  I want...no, I need...to know, too!”

        “Do you think just writing about it will help solve the mystery?”  Trixie asked dubiously.  “How?”

        “I don’t know!”  Josie tried to keep the frustration out of her voice.  “I just know I have to do something!”

        Honey, hearing frustration in Josie’s voice, and recognizing the look in Trixie’s eyes, broke in.  “I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel, Josie,” she said tactfully.  “I think writing about your experience will be very helpful for you, and for the rest of us.  Believe me when I say that all of us want to help.  Please, let us help.”

        Josie’s brown eyes met Trixie’s blue eyes.  Josie swallowed.  “Maybe you girls could come over to my house after school,” she suggested.  “I made a list yesterday, with Dan and Katie.  Katie is my sister,” Josie explained, “She is an eighth grader.  We made a list of everyone I remember hanging around the food table when I got my punch.  Maybe we can compare lists?”

        Recognizing a compromise, Trixie nodded.  “I’ll have to call Moms and ask,” she said, looking at Honey and Di, “But I think it’ll be okay.  How about you two?”

        Diana spoke up, “Mummy is taking all four twins to White Plains this afternoon, so I’m free.”

        Honey looked at Jim.  He nodded and smiled.  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Honey said.  “I’ll let Miss Trask know, and Jim can drive us, so, Trixie, you’ll only be about thirty minutes behind the bus.”

        “I’ll go call Moms now,” Trixie said, picking up the remains of her lunch.  “If she says no, I’ll just die.”  In a flash, she was gone.  When she returned some five minutes later, she had a huge smile on her face.  “Moms said yes,” she exclaimed, “As long as Jim promises to have me home by four-thirty so I can help with dinner.”

        “Not a problem, Shamus,” Jim said with a grin.  “I’ll meet you girls on the front steps after last bell.”  He rose from the table, taking his garbage with him.  The rest of the group followed suit, as the warning bell rang.

        Dan tapped Trixie on the arm as she walked past him.  She turned to look at him, a question in her eyes.  “Go easy on Josie, okay, Trix?”  Dan asked.  “She’s as strong minded as you, so try not to hit heads too much.”

        Trixie’s eyes sparked briefly, but she nodded.  “I’ll try,” she answered, “I promise.”

        Dan smiled at her, and tugged at her hair as they headed in different directions for class.

        The assembly during seventh period had been informative, to say the least.  Trixie felt as if she now knew far more about so-called party drugs and their effects on the human body than she ever wanted or needed to know.  Some of the descriptions of side effects and after effects had been positively gruesome.  Sergeant Molinson had taken the stage after Principal Stratton had finished both his lecture and slide show, and had laid out the penalties for purposely poisoning people, and for withholding evidence.  That hadn’t been pretty, either.

        Now, sitting between Jim and Honey in the front seat of the Bob-White station wagon, listening to Diana, Josie, and Katie, Josie’s look-alike little sister giggling over something in the back seat, Trixie found herself wondering why.  Why would someone drug the punch?  What was their motivation?  It just didn’t make sense.  Was someone trying to set up Dan?  Who?  Why?  Did someone want to hurt a Sleepyside student?  Again, who and why?  Over and over, Trixie rolled the thought around in her head.  So far, she could not come up with a solid answer to the question of why.

        As Jim maneuvered the car down Main Street, something caught Trixie’s attention.  She started, and grabbed Honey’s arm.  “Look!” she hissed quietly, discreetly pointing out the window.

        Honey looked, but saw nothing.  “What?  What did you see?” she asked in a low voice.

        “I saw a blond kid in a black leather jacket,” Trixie whispered back.

        “Cowhands?”  Honey asked with wide eyes.

        “I don’t know,” Trixie admitted. “But he sure disappeared fast.”

        Jim turned the corner, leaning over to whisper in Trixie’s ear.  “I saw him, too, Trix.  I couldn’t read the back of his jacket, but he was wearing boots.”

        “Pointy-toed cowboy boots?”  Trixie’s question was almost inaudible.

        Jim nodded, placing a finger on his lips, and calling back into the back seat, “Where do I go next, Josie?”

        Josie gave Jim directions, and in minutes he had parked the car in the Fisher’s driveway.  “I’ll wait here in the car,” Jim told the girls as they got out.  “I have some homework I can work on, so you can brainstorm all you want.  You can fill all of us guys in later.”

        Honey gave her brother a wry grin.  “Thanks,” she said. “But I think you just want to avoid girl talk.”

        “Guilty!” Jim laughed.  “Besides, you know you’ll be more relaxed if it’s just you girls.  There’ll be time enough later for Brian and I to tear apart your wilder theories.”

        Trixie stuck her tongue out at Jim, but he just laughed.  Turning, she followed Honey and Di into the house.

        “Mom!  We’re home, and Josie brought friends!” Katie yelled out as she skipped through the foyer.

        “I’m in the kitchen,” a voice called out.  As the Bob-White girls traipsed behind the Fisher girls, Trixie took a good look around.  The house was small, but the furniture was of good quality and polished to a high shine.  Standing in the family room, Trixie’s attention was drawn to a series of photographs lining the mantle over the fireplace.  Each photo was of the sisters, Josie and Katie, chronicling their different ages.  Trixie looked at one in particular; Josie stood on the left side, her long curls tumbling around her shoulder as she leaned forward against the slightly smaller figure of her sister.  Katie was wearing a plaid beret, and both girls were grinning at the camera, their dark eyes sparkling.

        “That’s one of my favorite pictures.”  Trixie turned at the sound of Mrs. Fisher’s voice.  She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and family room, leaning on a walker.  “You can see the mischief just bubbling out of them.”

        “Mooooom!”  Josie protested, while Katie laughed.  Josie glared at her sister, but couldn’t suppress a giggle.  Turning back to her mother, she asked, “What are you doing up and about?”

        “I was feeling much better today,” Mary Fisher told her daughter.  “So I made some cookies.  Why don’t you and your friends go have some?  I’m going to rest a while.”

        “Thank you, Mrs. Fisher,” Honey said politely.  “I’m Honey Wheeler, and these are Diana Lynch and Trixie Belden.  We don’t want to cause you any work.”

        “The work is already done, dear,” Mrs. Fisher smiled.  “Now you go munch and giggle.  I’ll be fine with a little rest.”  She moved herself to the couch, waving her daughters toward the kitchen.

        “Is she really okay?”  Honey asked in a whisper.

        Josie nodded.  “If she says she is, she is.  The therapy she’s on right now knocks her flat for a while, but once she gets a little strength back, she’s good to go.  She’s using the walker today instead of the chair, and that’s a good sign.”  She went to the refrigerator for milk, while Katie put a platter of cookies and a pile of paper napkins on the table. “By tomorrow, Mom will be probably walking on her own--at least until her next treatment.”

        “It must be hard to watch her go through all of this.”  Honey’s hazel eyes teared slightly.  “I don’t know how you two do it.”

        Josie shrugged and bit into her chocolate chip cookie.  “Mom’s a fighter, she’s really strong.  Katie and I owe it to her to be just as strong.”  Katie nodded, picking up her own cookie.  Trixie, Honey and Diana were silent.  How did one respond to an answer like that?  Politely each girl nibbled on a cookie.

        “These are really good,” Diana said. “Do you think your mom would give me the recipe?”

        “Sure!” Katie said enthusiastically.  “We don’t have any secrets in our recipes!”  The girls all giggled.

        “Let’s get down to business,” Trixie suggested.  “It probably won’t take all that long for Jim to do his homework.”

        Diana reached for her notebook.  “I have a list of the kids on the decorating, music, and refreshment committees,” she said.  “There are only eleven names, and I think that between us, we know them all.”

        Honey placed her notes on the table.  “Jim got the ELC list.  There were six eighth graders helping at the dance, but I only recognize two or three names.”  She looked at Katie.  “You’re in that grade.  Do you know these kids?”

        Katie took the list and studied it.  “I recognize all of them, but I only know four.  Grace Wang, Molly Parker, B. J. McClendon and Seth Greene.”

        Josie looked at the list in Katie’s hands.  “Maybe this will help,” she said.  “I was able to borrow the yearbook proofs, well, the school copy anyway.  The actual proofs went to the printer already.”  Reaching into her bag, Josie pulled out a manila envelope.

        “How did you get your hands on those?” Trixie asked.

        “Mr. Zimmermann,” Josie answered.  “He runs the yearbook team as well as the journalism team.”

        “That’s great!” Trixie told her enthusiastically.  “Brian gave me the list of kids who ended up sick, but some of them I don’t recognize.  It will be great to put a face with the name.”

        For the next twenty minutes, the girls poured over the lists, checking and cross-referencing names and photos.  By the time the clock in the hall struck four, they had a list of eight names.  Each of the students on the list had been involved in setting up or running the dance; none of the eight had become ill, and all of them had been on Josie’s list of people near the punch bowl.

        “One eighth grader, two ninth graders, three juniors, and two seniors.”  Honey wrote the names and grade levels on three separate sheets of paper.  “Well,” she mused.  “We’ve narrowed it down.  Now what?”

        “Confront them!”  Josie and Trixie chorused.  Their eyes met, and both started to laugh.

        “Great minds think alike!” Josie chortled.  Trixie just chuckled.

        “Maybe so,” Diana said, shaking her head, “But I don’t think open confrontation is the best idea.  It wouldn’t be right to accuse someone, outright.  Maybe we should give the list to the police.”

        Honey nodded slowly, “That would probably be the safest idea,” she said.

        “I disagree!” Trixie stated, to no one’s surprise.  “I think we need more information before we go to the police.  Otherwise, Molinson will just laugh at us.”

        “I doubt that he’d laugh, Trix,” Honey told her, “But he probably wouldn’t take us seriously.”

        “But what do we do?” Diana asked.  “Whoever did this, poisoned people.  He,” she looked at the list.  “Or she, used drugs to make kids sick.  This person could be very dangerous.”  Katie nodded in agreement.

        “I don’t know.”  Trixie’s frustration was evident in her furrowed brow.  “Do you have any ideas?” she asked Josie.

        “Not yet,” Josie admitted. “But I tend to plot best when I’m in bed.”

        Honey looked at her watch and cleared her throat.

        “Gleeps!” Trixie exclaimed, “I’ve got to get home!”  She looked at the faces gathered around the table.  “Okay.  How about this?  We each try to figure out ways to get more information about the people on our lists.  Di, Honey, and I will fill in the boys and get them brainstorming, too.  Tomorrow we’ll meet for lunch and try and make a plan.  What do you think?”

        “I think that’s a great idea,” Katie said, “But Josie will have to take my ideas, since I don’t have lunch with you.”

        “I forgot about that,” Diana said.  “Is that okay with you?”

        “It’s fine,” Katie assured her.  “As long as you let me kick the culprit when you get him...or her.  Nobody messes with my sister!”  Her dark eyes glowed, and Trixie found herself nodding.  Katie’s feelings mirrored her own about Brian, Bobby, and Mart, and extending to Honey, Diana, and Dan.  And Jim, she added in her head, trying not to blush.  Sometimes, though, she had to admit that her Jim feelings were less than brotherly-sisterly.

        Gathering their things, and a napkin of cookies for their patient driver, the girls thanked Mrs. Fisher for her hospitality and headed for the car.  There was a lot of thinking to do.

Spring Dance 3

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