Oh, don’t be fooled by what you see. Don’t be fooled by what you hear.
Chapter 1. New Song
The cafeteria at Bowdon Senior High was packed, just like always. I wasn’t too concerned over that, though. We were far enough into the school year that everyone had their tables and the routine was about as set in stone as it could possibly be. The jocks, de facto rulers of the school, were always found front and center, of course. The D&D nerds, ranking absolutely lowest in the social hierarchy, kept to themselves in the back corner where they spent lunch every day talking about elves or dragons or whatever it is that goes into their role-playing games. The rest of us filled up the spaces in between and for the most part, there was an unspoken agreement to live and let live, as the saying goes. If John Hughes ever decided to set one of his movies here Deep in the Heart of Texas, Bowdon High would be an ideal filming location because he’d already have a large, ready-made, built-in cast of extras at his disposal.
I made my way to the table I share with my brother and friends. Honey Wheeler was already there, carefully unpacking her meal, which I assumed (correctly) would be something dainty and ladylike and totally suited to Honey’s girly-girl demeanor. I dropped down next to her and attacked my own bagged lunch with considerably less poise and manners. I’d missed breakfast and I was hungry. Although we’re best friends - along with our third amigo, Diana Lynch - Honey and I are a study in contrasts. She’s tall and slender, with beautiful golden-brown hair that falls to her shoulders in a soft, shiny curtain, framing her lovely, pale face. Her hazel eyes sometimes look green in certain lighting and her default expression is one of friendly smiles, thanks to her sunny, there’s-always-something-to-be-happy-about disposition. She dresses daily like a model for a Neiman Marcus catalog - the preppy section. Today that meant a baby pink Ralph Lauren polo with the collar flipped up, a white knit sweater tied around her shoulders, tan twill slacks, and shiny-as-new penny loafers. Everything matched perfectly, down to her rose-colored Swatch.
Me, on the other hand? My flyaway curls do whatever they want, though I usually try to somewhat tame them with a headband or bandana. I’m a decidedly average 5-foot, 4-inches in height. And there’s never going to be a high-end store out there hoping I’ll be a walking advertisement for their classic clothing lines. This morning I’d managed to find a clean, lime green t-shirt in the back of my closet and I’d paired it with my oldest acid-washed jeans, reminding me that I really needed to get around to doing my laundry. To this, I’d added my worn but very comfortable denim jacket and my favorite Converse All-Stars, and voila! My outfit was complete - much to my mother’s unending chagrin. As her only daughter out of four children, I’ve always known Moms was hoping I’d be the American Princess Honey naturally is, but I’m more “one of the guys” than “cheerleader and future prom queen nominee.” To her credit, Moms has mostly taken this in stride and only occasionally makes attempts to do something about my less-than-fashionable wardrobe.
“Is everything okay, Trix?” Honey asked me as she popped open her Tupperware container and delicately poured dressing on her salad. “You seem a little… frazzled.”
It’s a testament to Honey’s sweet nature that even when she’s basically telling you that you’re a total mess, somehow you only see her concern and don’t feel remotely insulted. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been another one of those days,” I told her around a large bite of my peanut butter sandwich. “We were late again because Bobby cannot get it together in the morning. I swear, we need to get that boy tested, no matter what Moms says. He’s way too old to still need help making his bed and packing his lunch.”
“I know it’s been hard for you and Mart since your mother went back to work,” Honey said sympathetically.
“Big time! I mean, I’m happy for her. She really seems to love it, but yeah, I miss having her at home. I didn’t realize how spoiled we always were.”
I regretted the complaint as soon as I made it. Honey’s eyes dropped to the table, and I knew she was thinking about her own parents. They were hardly ever home. They’re regular jetsetters, traveling the world both for her dad’s multi-million dollar oil biz and for vacations in every trendy, popular hot spot. Although I would never say it out loud, I sometimes wondered if Honey felt she was really being raised by the family servants.
Thankfully, I was rescued from the sudden awkwardness of my own making by Di’s arrival. The third member of our trio is also radically different in appearance from Honey and me. With jet-black hair, eyes so dark blue they almost look violet, and a style that’s an unusual but eye-catching cross between Madonna Wannabe and British New Wave, Diana Lynch turns heads everywhere she goes. Of course, the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous also contributes to the attention she gets. I’ve never seen anyone more striking and beautiful. Not in magazines or the movies or anywhere. If Di decided to up and move to New York to be a model or Hollywood to be an actress, I’ve no doubt at all that she’d find enormous success.
“Oh. My. Gawd,” she intoned dramatically as she set down her lunch tray and took a seat across from us. The cafeteria was noisy enough that she leaned forward to be heard before continuing. “What happened this morning, Trix? I thought Mr. Watson was going to birth a kitten, he was so mad!”
“I have no idea,” I replied, shrugging. “I did hear Ty and Joel talking about it after third period, but all I got was that he was outside the science corridor, yelling so loud he could be heard in all the classrooms.”
“That’s really not like him, is it?” Honey asked, frowning slightly. “I mean, I didn’t have him last year like you two did, but I always got the impression he’s considered one of the nicer teachers?”
Di gingerly poked at the green beans on her tray and sighed. “I have got to start bringing my lunch like y’all do. I’m sure Cook wouldn’t mind packing me something.” She flipped a lock of her hair over her shoulder and looked back at us. “Yeah. He was always cool, even if he does still dress like it’s 1974 and he’s on his way to some hippie, folk music concert.”
“You must be talking about Mr. Watson,” a new voice said and I turned to see my twin brother passing behind me before he rounded the end of the table and dropped down next to Di. “And I’m betting this has something to do with the books?”
“Books?” I stared at Mart. He has the same sandy blond hair and blue eyes I do, the same spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and the same tendency to flash a smirking half-grin at things that amuse him. But that’s where the superficial likenesses end. For one thing, at almost eleven inches taller than me, he towers over most of our classmates, even our older brother Brian. He keeps his hair in a short, easy-to-care-for crewcut and while he may not be the best dressed guy on campus, he has the sporty look down. Mart’s a star player on the Bowdon Senior High junior varsity basketball team and the only junior to run sprints and the 4-400 relay for varsity track.
It probably goes without saying, but PE is absolutely my least favorite class.
“Books?” Honey asked, echoing me and regarding Mart with interest. “What books?”
“You guys didn’t hear? All the books we collected to send to the school in San Isidro? Gone.” Mart snapped his fingers as he finished speaking.
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” I demanded. “So someone got them boxed up and shipped? Why would that make Mr. Watson mad? That can’t be right.”
“Who said anything about them being packed and shipped?” Mart retorted. “I said they’re ‘gone.’ As in, no longer in the storage room and no explanation for where they went. I saw Jim after second period. He says it’s a lot of money lost. The Honor Society estimate was almost five hundred dollars’ worth of books and study materials.”
Honey gasped. “That is a lot of money! I didn’t realize we’d managed to collect that much.”
“Where is Jim?” Di wondered, surveying the crowded cafeteria. “He’s usually here by now.”
“Yeah, Trix,” Honey added teasingly. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes, trying to act cool about Honey’s question, but I suspected I was blushing brightly enough to give myself away. I’d turned sixteen this past May, reaching the age my parents finally allowed dating and Honey’s adopted brother Jim Frayne had promptly asked me out. We dated all through the summer and now into fall, but it still feels so different and wonderful and nerve-wracking all at once to me, and I wasn’t totally ready to talk about it, even with my best friends.
“He’s probably in the admin office with the rest of the Honor Society officers,” Mart guessed, saving me from a verbal response. “They’re trying to figure out what to do. I saw Spider Webster on his way there, too, so they’ve got the cops involved.”
I swallowed a bite of my sandwich and reached for my Thermos of milk. “Why would anyone steal a bunch of books? Especially when most of them were textbooks?” I asked the table at large. You will never get me to believe there’s some kind of black market for stolen textbooks out there. Uh, uh. No way. No how.
It was Honey who provided a possible answer. “Could it be some kind of stupid prank gone wrong?”
“You mean like something Mike Larson and his posse would pull?” Di considered the possibility for a moment. “Maybe?”
Honey huffed out a breath and frowned. “If that’s the case, it’s an especially awful prank, even for Mike. Who would be mean enough to want to delay or stop a poor Mexican village from getting library materials to replace what they lost in an earthquake?”
Who, indeed? “What I want to know is what Mr. Watson thinks,” I told them. “Who was he shouting at this morning? Does he suspect someone?”
Before anyone could offer up any speculation on that point, Di suddenly closed her eyes and groaned. “Somebody shoot me. Here comes Shrimpy.”
I traded an amused glance with Honey. It was no secret that Edmund “Shrimpy” Davis had an enormous crush on Di, like several other boys at school. He approached our table now, clutching a brown paper lunch sack in one hand while holding a thick Trapper Keeper tucked under his other arm. “Hi, Diana. Hi,” he said, his wobbly smile revealing his nervousness. Shrimpy Davis bears an uncanny resemblance to the Keymaster in Ghostbusters, both in appearance and mannerisms. That may be a little unkind, but seriously. It’s impossible not to notice it.
“Hello, Shrimpy,” Di replied. Although she did her best to never react rudely to any of her admirers, I knew she found her patience with Shrimpy Davis in particular frequently tested. He didn’t seem to register her complete lack of interest.
Shrimpy lifted his hand to push his glasses back up his nose, almost dropping his lunch in the process. “I was, uh, wondering, if you… If you have a date for Homecoming?”
“Oh, um. I’m sorry, Shrimpy, but yes, I already do.” Di offered him an apologetic smile. “He asked me a while ago.”
Shrimpy’s face fell, but he nodded briskly. “Right. Of course. I should’ve asked sooner, huh? Not put it off until it was only a few weeks away. Sorry. Thanks. Thanks, anyway.”
We all waited to speak again until after Shrimpy had scampered off to join his friends at the D&D table. “Okay, Di,” Honey said pointedly. “Spill it. Last I heard, you did not, in fact, have a date to Homecoming. I know you’ve turned down a lot of offers, too. What’s this about you accepting someone who asked you a while ago?”
“I lied,” Di replied simply, turning her attention back to her half-eaten lunch.
I gave my brother a hard, expectant look. “It’s now or never,” I mouthed at him. “Do it.” If he wasted this prime opportunity, there really was no hope at all left for him.
Suddenly looking every bit as uncertain as Shrimpy had only moments before, Mart cleared his throat and turned to Diana. “Would you like to go to the dance with me?” he asked. From the corner of my eye, I saw Honey straighten in surprise, but I kept my gaze focused on Di, waiting for her response with probably only slightly less anxiety than my twin. If Mart had finally made a move only to have Di turn him down, that would be disastrous in so many ways for all of us.
“Yes, Mart,” she replied, flashing him a dazzling smile. “I’d like that very much. I was really beginning to think you were never going to ask.”
My brother’s expression was quite hysterical in its obvious shock. “Oh! W-wow. Yeah. Great! Awesome! I mean, great,” he babbled, his usual confident and too-cool-for-you attitude entirely wiped out by Di’s ready acceptance of his invitation.
Aware that he was fast turning into a blithering fool, I figured I’d better find some way to redirect everyone’s attention long enough for him to regain his composure. I made a show of flipping open my spiral notebook. “Let’s see. On my To-Do list. Yep. There it is. Get idiot brother to ask Di to Homecoming. I can check that one off now. Which means… a trip to the mall is in our immediate future, right? I’m sure you’re planning to get a new dress?” I added, directing my question to Di.
“Natch!” she exclaimed brightly. “Saturday?”
Honey held up her hand. “Don’t forget me! I’m free for the day. I already have my dress, but I’m still looking for the perfect shoes.”
I shut my notebook again and slid it aside. “I should be free, too,” I told them. “I’m sure Mart will be delighted to Bobby-sit for me, if necessary.”
My brother nodded mutely at this statement, and I could see he was still stunned to realize gorgeous, wealthy Diana Lynch had accepted his offer and would be attending the Homecoming dance with him. At this point, I was willing to bet he’d agree to take over my babysitting chores for the next two years if I asked.
“Let’s plan the whole afternoon, then,” Di suggested as she gave her mashed potatoes another unenthusiastic stir. “We can go shopping, have dinner at the food court, and meet up with the guys for the movie at 7:30.”
Oh, right. The movie. I’d completely forgotten about that. I bit down on my lower lip and winced. Would Honey now be feeling like a 5th wheel? Would she be uncomfortable with me and Jim, and Mart and Di? I supposed we could invite Nick Roberts, her Homecoming date, to join us, but since she had insisted on multiple occasions that they were only going as friends with a shared interest in the Impressionists, inviting him to come along when he didn’t regularly hang out with us could potentially imply something I gathered Honey definitely did not want to imply. I studied her closely for a moment, but she seemed all right as far as I could tell. Probably, it helped that we were planning to see Better Off Dead. Honey absolutely adores John Cusack. She’ll go see anything with him in it. “Okay. That all sounds good,” I told Di, realizing she was watching me and waiting for some sort of confirmation to her proposed idea. “But meanwhile? I really want to know what the deal is with the books. Who steals books? It’s just weird.”
I was still considering this question after lunch as I made my way to fifth period World History class. I paid little attention to the students crowding the halls while grabbing their textbooks and folders from their lockers and was only vaguely aware of the swirl of conversation around me, which mostly seemed to center on the game the following evening. Mark Nelson let out a loud bark and shouted, “Go Dogs!” to a few cheers from our classmates. I’d be attending the game, of course, with pretty much every other Bowdon resident, young and old, because that was naturally what everyone did on Friday nights in the Fall. In truth, I do generally enjoy the games, as long as they aren’t a total blow-out in either direction, but I’m not what I would consider one of the true fanatics. I agreeably pin a spirit ribbon to my shirt on game days and I’ll let Di paint “BHS” on my cheek and sometimes add some temporary blue streaks to my hair, but I don’t follow football religiously like some of my friends and fellow townsfolk. The excitement for the following night was building, but it was somewhat tempered by the expectation that the Bowdon Bulldogs would without a doubt defeat the Leland Panthers. The real anticipation was for Homecoming. There was all the surrounding fun, of course – the parade, the carnival, the dance – but this year, the game was even more high-stakes. Both Bowdon and Ellisville, rivals for as long as anyone could remember, have a shot at making it to the playoffs and state championships. Things were going to get really crazy as the month wore on. Even Halloween was getting overshadowed this year with the Big Game hype.
The halls were already decorated with an assortment of banners and posters, encouraging the Bulldogs to stomp, slaughter, and otherwise destroy the Eagles in shockingly graphic terms, while also reminding everyone that voting for the Homecoming King and Queen would begin the following week. As far as I could guess, Todd Maurer and Jane Morgan would win the coveted crowns this year, unless something truly strange took place. And I’m already assuming that when it comes time next year, and we’re part of the senior class, there’s very little question that Di will claim the honor. Whether Mart can pull off king, I’m not so sure, but if the two are considered an item by then, the votes will likely fall his way.
“Hey, Trix! Hold up!”
I slowed and turned, feeling a happy surge as Jim shoved his way through a pack of giggling freshman girls and hurried to catch up with me. At one year older and one grade up, he doesn’t share any of my classes, so outside of a few minutes before school if we’re lucky, and usually lunchtime - his absence today notwithstanding - we don’t see much of each other during the school day unless we happen to catch one another in the hallways between periods. He gave me a quick, one-armed hug and then stepped back with a rueful sigh. Principal Stratton’s recent crackdown on PDAs meant that there were more teachers in the halls between classes to govern student behavior and there were more violators finding themselves with afternoon detentions. Jim was especially careful to avoid that fate. As an officer of the Honor Society and member of several other school clubs, he felt duty-bound to “set a good example.”
He ran a hand through his already tousled red hair and nodded toward the end of the corridor. “I’ll walk you to class,” he said. “I need to ask you something.”
“Okay. Fire away.”
“Do you know where your brother is?”
I found myself blinking at that. I don’t know if I was expecting anything in particular, but certainly this wasn’t on the list of topics I’d imagined Jim would want to talk about. I shifted my textbook to my other arm and nodded. “On his way to Spanish. I just left him in the cafeteria. Why?”
For a moment, Jim looked puzzled by my response, then he shook his head. “No. Sorry. I wasn’t clear. I meant Brian.”
“Oh. Brian?” I blew out a breath, thinking. “Calculus? I haven’t seen him today. He came in early to work on his Physics lab project with Loyola. They want to enter it in some county science fair thing. Why? Did you need him for something?”
“I don’t know,” Jim replied slowly. “You know about the missing books?”
“Uh, huh. Though I don’t get it. Like, at all.”
Jim hesitated before continuing, and I could tell he was carefully considering his next words. “What?” I pressed. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Trix. A coupla guys have claimed they saw him before first period hanging around outside the storeroom where we were keeping the books.”
I felt my jaw drop and my temper rise. What. The. Ever. Loving… “James Winthrop Frayne,” I exclaimed sharply as I whirled to face him, jabbing him in the chest with one finger. “If you think for one minute that Brian had anything- “
“Whoa, Trixie, stop.” Jim held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and took one step back from me. “You know I don’t think that! Brian practically melts to a puddle at the mere idea of jaywalking. He’s not gonna steal anything, much less hundreds of dollars’ worth of books. Besides, it wouldn’t have been possible for one guy to carry them all off without being seen this morning. They were probably taken some time after school hours yesterday or in the middle of the night so the thief could make several trips to carry everything. Or maybe more than one person was involved in the theft.”
“Okay, so why do you want to see Brian?” I muttered, still upset despite his explanation.
“One, to ask him if he saw anything or knows anything and now two, to warn him. If he was working with Loyola this morning in the science lab, then likely he wasn’t anywhere near the storeroom. Someone’s lying and possibly setting him up.”
“Setting him up? Brian? Why? He’s… he’s harmless! What could anyone have against him?” I demanded, glaring at a passing boy as if he were personally responsible for this turn of events. He picked up his speed in an obvious effort to put a safe distance between himself and me as quickly as he could.
Jim shook his head. “I don’t know,” he told me. “It could just be that they saw him early today and he was a convenient scapegoat. And you have to admit, books aren’t a typical target for stealing. You aren’t gonna suspect the usual type for taking them.”
“But you’ll suspect Brian?”
“Trixie, I told you, of course I don’t. But you can see where some people would think the only person or persons who would want that many books would be a bunch of…”
“Nerds?” I suggested quietly, my eyes narrowed to almost slits. “Like Brian and his friends?”
My eldest brother takes after our father in more ways than one. He inherited Dad’s brown hair and warm brown eyes, while Mart, Bobby, and I have our mother’s fair looks, and he’s got the same geeky, mega-brain that propelled my father into a career as a successful bank manager and also got him elected president of the Bowdon Amateur Astronomers Club. As a senior, Brian’s already got his post-high school path all mapped out. He’s been receiving acceptance letters to every college and university he applied to, and he told me recently he’s settled on Columbia. He wants to someday be a pediatrician and considering how good he his with Bobby and the other little kids at church, I know he’ll be a great one.
Jim winced, and I could tell he knew he was treading in unsafe waters with me at the moment. “I just want to talk to him,” he explained. “You said he’s got Calculus now?”
“I think so,” I replied. “I don’t have his entire schedule memorized, but I’m pretty sure that’s his next class.”
With a glance at his watch, Jim nodded. “I think I can catch him after that,” he murmured, almost more to himself than me. “Mrs. De la Cruz will probably even let me go a little early if I tell her it’s regarding the theft.”
He left me at the door to my classroom. I wandered inside and took a seat at my desk. At lunch, my curiosity had initially been stirred by the news of the missing books. Puzzles and mysteries always got my attention. I want to know what happened and why and who was involved. But now things had changed. If someone was accusing my brother of criminal acts, no way was I going to sit around and wait for someone else to provide the answers to those questions. I know I’m no super genius like Brian, but I was determined to find and get to the truth, and I knew I could count on Mart and our friends for help. They all like Brian and I knew they’d be just as ready to defend him as I was.
Filled with that resolve, I opened my folder and took out some paper to write a quick note to Honey and Di. They didn’t share any afternoon classes with me, but I usually saw Di in the hall between sixth and seventh periods. I planned to pass on my note then, asking them to meet me and Mart at Pappy’s after school.
We would get to the bottom of this. Someone had made a huge mistake trying to get Brian in trouble and whoever it was, was about to learn a major lesson. Go after any of the Belden siblings and the only thing it would get you was a heaping plate of hurt and regret! That was a promise.
I made my way to the table I share with my brother and friends. Honey Wheeler was already there, carefully unpacking her meal, which I assumed (correctly) would be something dainty and ladylike and totally suited to Honey’s girly-girl demeanor. I dropped down next to her and attacked my own bagged lunch with considerably less poise and manners. I’d missed breakfast and I was hungry. Although we’re best friends - along with our third amigo, Diana Lynch - Honey and I are a study in contrasts. She’s tall and slender, with beautiful golden-brown hair that falls to her shoulders in a soft, shiny curtain, framing her lovely, pale face. Her hazel eyes sometimes look green in certain lighting and her default expression is one of friendly smiles, thanks to her sunny, there’s-always-something-to-be-happy-about disposition. She dresses daily like a model for a Neiman Marcus catalog - the preppy section. Today that meant a baby pink Ralph Lauren polo with the collar flipped up, a white knit sweater tied around her shoulders, tan twill slacks, and shiny-as-new penny loafers. Everything matched perfectly, down to her rose-colored Swatch.
Me, on the other hand? My flyaway curls do whatever they want, though I usually try to somewhat tame them with a headband or bandana. I’m a decidedly average 5-foot, 4-inches in height. And there’s never going to be a high-end store out there hoping I’ll be a walking advertisement for their classic clothing lines. This morning I’d managed to find a clean, lime green t-shirt in the back of my closet and I’d paired it with my oldest acid-washed jeans, reminding me that I really needed to get around to doing my laundry. To this, I’d added my worn but very comfortable denim jacket and my favorite Converse All-Stars, and voila! My outfit was complete - much to my mother’s unending chagrin. As her only daughter out of four children, I’ve always known Moms was hoping I’d be the American Princess Honey naturally is, but I’m more “one of the guys” than “cheerleader and future prom queen nominee.” To her credit, Moms has mostly taken this in stride and only occasionally makes attempts to do something about my less-than-fashionable wardrobe.
“Is everything okay, Trix?” Honey asked me as she popped open her Tupperware container and delicately poured dressing on her salad. “You seem a little… frazzled.”
It’s a testament to Honey’s sweet nature that even when she’s basically telling you that you’re a total mess, somehow you only see her concern and don’t feel remotely insulted. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been another one of those days,” I told her around a large bite of my peanut butter sandwich. “We were late again because Bobby cannot get it together in the morning. I swear, we need to get that boy tested, no matter what Moms says. He’s way too old to still need help making his bed and packing his lunch.”
“I know it’s been hard for you and Mart since your mother went back to work,” Honey said sympathetically.
“Big time! I mean, I’m happy for her. She really seems to love it, but yeah, I miss having her at home. I didn’t realize how spoiled we always were.”
I regretted the complaint as soon as I made it. Honey’s eyes dropped to the table, and I knew she was thinking about her own parents. They were hardly ever home. They’re regular jetsetters, traveling the world both for her dad’s multi-million dollar oil biz and for vacations in every trendy, popular hot spot. Although I would never say it out loud, I sometimes wondered if Honey felt she was really being raised by the family servants.
Thankfully, I was rescued from the sudden awkwardness of my own making by Di’s arrival. The third member of our trio is also radically different in appearance from Honey and me. With jet-black hair, eyes so dark blue they almost look violet, and a style that’s an unusual but eye-catching cross between Madonna Wannabe and British New Wave, Diana Lynch turns heads everywhere she goes. Of course, the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous also contributes to the attention she gets. I’ve never seen anyone more striking and beautiful. Not in magazines or the movies or anywhere. If Di decided to up and move to New York to be a model or Hollywood to be an actress, I’ve no doubt at all that she’d find enormous success.
“Oh. My. Gawd,” she intoned dramatically as she set down her lunch tray and took a seat across from us. The cafeteria was noisy enough that she leaned forward to be heard before continuing. “What happened this morning, Trix? I thought Mr. Watson was going to birth a kitten, he was so mad!”
“I have no idea,” I replied, shrugging. “I did hear Ty and Joel talking about it after third period, but all I got was that he was outside the science corridor, yelling so loud he could be heard in all the classrooms.”
“That’s really not like him, is it?” Honey asked, frowning slightly. “I mean, I didn’t have him last year like you two did, but I always got the impression he’s considered one of the nicer teachers?”
Di gingerly poked at the green beans on her tray and sighed. “I have got to start bringing my lunch like y’all do. I’m sure Cook wouldn’t mind packing me something.” She flipped a lock of her hair over her shoulder and looked back at us. “Yeah. He was always cool, even if he does still dress like it’s 1974 and he’s on his way to some hippie, folk music concert.”
“You must be talking about Mr. Watson,” a new voice said and I turned to see my twin brother passing behind me before he rounded the end of the table and dropped down next to Di. “And I’m betting this has something to do with the books?”
“Books?” I stared at Mart. He has the same sandy blond hair and blue eyes I do, the same spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and the same tendency to flash a smirking half-grin at things that amuse him. But that’s where the superficial likenesses end. For one thing, at almost eleven inches taller than me, he towers over most of our classmates, even our older brother Brian. He keeps his hair in a short, easy-to-care-for crewcut and while he may not be the best dressed guy on campus, he has the sporty look down. Mart’s a star player on the Bowdon Senior High junior varsity basketball team and the only junior to run sprints and the 4-400 relay for varsity track.
It probably goes without saying, but PE is absolutely my least favorite class.
“Books?” Honey asked, echoing me and regarding Mart with interest. “What books?”
“You guys didn’t hear? All the books we collected to send to the school in San Isidro? Gone.” Mart snapped his fingers as he finished speaking.
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” I demanded. “So someone got them boxed up and shipped? Why would that make Mr. Watson mad? That can’t be right.”
“Who said anything about them being packed and shipped?” Mart retorted. “I said they’re ‘gone.’ As in, no longer in the storage room and no explanation for where they went. I saw Jim after second period. He says it’s a lot of money lost. The Honor Society estimate was almost five hundred dollars’ worth of books and study materials.”
Honey gasped. “That is a lot of money! I didn’t realize we’d managed to collect that much.”
“Where is Jim?” Di wondered, surveying the crowded cafeteria. “He’s usually here by now.”
“Yeah, Trix,” Honey added teasingly. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes, trying to act cool about Honey’s question, but I suspected I was blushing brightly enough to give myself away. I’d turned sixteen this past May, reaching the age my parents finally allowed dating and Honey’s adopted brother Jim Frayne had promptly asked me out. We dated all through the summer and now into fall, but it still feels so different and wonderful and nerve-wracking all at once to me, and I wasn’t totally ready to talk about it, even with my best friends.
“He’s probably in the admin office with the rest of the Honor Society officers,” Mart guessed, saving me from a verbal response. “They’re trying to figure out what to do. I saw Spider Webster on his way there, too, so they’ve got the cops involved.”
I swallowed a bite of my sandwich and reached for my Thermos of milk. “Why would anyone steal a bunch of books? Especially when most of them were textbooks?” I asked the table at large. You will never get me to believe there’s some kind of black market for stolen textbooks out there. Uh, uh. No way. No how.
It was Honey who provided a possible answer. “Could it be some kind of stupid prank gone wrong?”
“You mean like something Mike Larson and his posse would pull?” Di considered the possibility for a moment. “Maybe?”
Honey huffed out a breath and frowned. “If that’s the case, it’s an especially awful prank, even for Mike. Who would be mean enough to want to delay or stop a poor Mexican village from getting library materials to replace what they lost in an earthquake?”
Who, indeed? “What I want to know is what Mr. Watson thinks,” I told them. “Who was he shouting at this morning? Does he suspect someone?”
Before anyone could offer up any speculation on that point, Di suddenly closed her eyes and groaned. “Somebody shoot me. Here comes Shrimpy.”
I traded an amused glance with Honey. It was no secret that Edmund “Shrimpy” Davis had an enormous crush on Di, like several other boys at school. He approached our table now, clutching a brown paper lunch sack in one hand while holding a thick Trapper Keeper tucked under his other arm. “Hi, Diana. Hi,” he said, his wobbly smile revealing his nervousness. Shrimpy Davis bears an uncanny resemblance to the Keymaster in Ghostbusters, both in appearance and mannerisms. That may be a little unkind, but seriously. It’s impossible not to notice it.
“Hello, Shrimpy,” Di replied. Although she did her best to never react rudely to any of her admirers, I knew she found her patience with Shrimpy Davis in particular frequently tested. He didn’t seem to register her complete lack of interest.
Shrimpy lifted his hand to push his glasses back up his nose, almost dropping his lunch in the process. “I was, uh, wondering, if you… If you have a date for Homecoming?”
“Oh, um. I’m sorry, Shrimpy, but yes, I already do.” Di offered him an apologetic smile. “He asked me a while ago.”
Shrimpy’s face fell, but he nodded briskly. “Right. Of course. I should’ve asked sooner, huh? Not put it off until it was only a few weeks away. Sorry. Thanks. Thanks, anyway.”
We all waited to speak again until after Shrimpy had scampered off to join his friends at the D&D table. “Okay, Di,” Honey said pointedly. “Spill it. Last I heard, you did not, in fact, have a date to Homecoming. I know you’ve turned down a lot of offers, too. What’s this about you accepting someone who asked you a while ago?”
“I lied,” Di replied simply, turning her attention back to her half-eaten lunch.
I gave my brother a hard, expectant look. “It’s now or never,” I mouthed at him. “Do it.” If he wasted this prime opportunity, there really was no hope at all left for him.
Suddenly looking every bit as uncertain as Shrimpy had only moments before, Mart cleared his throat and turned to Diana. “Would you like to go to the dance with me?” he asked. From the corner of my eye, I saw Honey straighten in surprise, but I kept my gaze focused on Di, waiting for her response with probably only slightly less anxiety than my twin. If Mart had finally made a move only to have Di turn him down, that would be disastrous in so many ways for all of us.
“Yes, Mart,” she replied, flashing him a dazzling smile. “I’d like that very much. I was really beginning to think you were never going to ask.”
My brother’s expression was quite hysterical in its obvious shock. “Oh! W-wow. Yeah. Great! Awesome! I mean, great,” he babbled, his usual confident and too-cool-for-you attitude entirely wiped out by Di’s ready acceptance of his invitation.
Aware that he was fast turning into a blithering fool, I figured I’d better find some way to redirect everyone’s attention long enough for him to regain his composure. I made a show of flipping open my spiral notebook. “Let’s see. On my To-Do list. Yep. There it is. Get idiot brother to ask Di to Homecoming. I can check that one off now. Which means… a trip to the mall is in our immediate future, right? I’m sure you’re planning to get a new dress?” I added, directing my question to Di.
“Natch!” she exclaimed brightly. “Saturday?”
Honey held up her hand. “Don’t forget me! I’m free for the day. I already have my dress, but I’m still looking for the perfect shoes.”
I shut my notebook again and slid it aside. “I should be free, too,” I told them. “I’m sure Mart will be delighted to Bobby-sit for me, if necessary.”
My brother nodded mutely at this statement, and I could see he was still stunned to realize gorgeous, wealthy Diana Lynch had accepted his offer and would be attending the Homecoming dance with him. At this point, I was willing to bet he’d agree to take over my babysitting chores for the next two years if I asked.
“Let’s plan the whole afternoon, then,” Di suggested as she gave her mashed potatoes another unenthusiastic stir. “We can go shopping, have dinner at the food court, and meet up with the guys for the movie at 7:30.”
Oh, right. The movie. I’d completely forgotten about that. I bit down on my lower lip and winced. Would Honey now be feeling like a 5th wheel? Would she be uncomfortable with me and Jim, and Mart and Di? I supposed we could invite Nick Roberts, her Homecoming date, to join us, but since she had insisted on multiple occasions that they were only going as friends with a shared interest in the Impressionists, inviting him to come along when he didn’t regularly hang out with us could potentially imply something I gathered Honey definitely did not want to imply. I studied her closely for a moment, but she seemed all right as far as I could tell. Probably, it helped that we were planning to see Better Off Dead. Honey absolutely adores John Cusack. She’ll go see anything with him in it. “Okay. That all sounds good,” I told Di, realizing she was watching me and waiting for some sort of confirmation to her proposed idea. “But meanwhile? I really want to know what the deal is with the books. Who steals books? It’s just weird.”
I was still considering this question after lunch as I made my way to fifth period World History class. I paid little attention to the students crowding the halls while grabbing their textbooks and folders from their lockers and was only vaguely aware of the swirl of conversation around me, which mostly seemed to center on the game the following evening. Mark Nelson let out a loud bark and shouted, “Go Dogs!” to a few cheers from our classmates. I’d be attending the game, of course, with pretty much every other Bowdon resident, young and old, because that was naturally what everyone did on Friday nights in the Fall. In truth, I do generally enjoy the games, as long as they aren’t a total blow-out in either direction, but I’m not what I would consider one of the true fanatics. I agreeably pin a spirit ribbon to my shirt on game days and I’ll let Di paint “BHS” on my cheek and sometimes add some temporary blue streaks to my hair, but I don’t follow football religiously like some of my friends and fellow townsfolk. The excitement for the following night was building, but it was somewhat tempered by the expectation that the Bowdon Bulldogs would without a doubt defeat the Leland Panthers. The real anticipation was for Homecoming. There was all the surrounding fun, of course – the parade, the carnival, the dance – but this year, the game was even more high-stakes. Both Bowdon and Ellisville, rivals for as long as anyone could remember, have a shot at making it to the playoffs and state championships. Things were going to get really crazy as the month wore on. Even Halloween was getting overshadowed this year with the Big Game hype.
The halls were already decorated with an assortment of banners and posters, encouraging the Bulldogs to stomp, slaughter, and otherwise destroy the Eagles in shockingly graphic terms, while also reminding everyone that voting for the Homecoming King and Queen would begin the following week. As far as I could guess, Todd Maurer and Jane Morgan would win the coveted crowns this year, unless something truly strange took place. And I’m already assuming that when it comes time next year, and we’re part of the senior class, there’s very little question that Di will claim the honor. Whether Mart can pull off king, I’m not so sure, but if the two are considered an item by then, the votes will likely fall his way.
“Hey, Trix! Hold up!”
I slowed and turned, feeling a happy surge as Jim shoved his way through a pack of giggling freshman girls and hurried to catch up with me. At one year older and one grade up, he doesn’t share any of my classes, so outside of a few minutes before school if we’re lucky, and usually lunchtime - his absence today notwithstanding - we don’t see much of each other during the school day unless we happen to catch one another in the hallways between periods. He gave me a quick, one-armed hug and then stepped back with a rueful sigh. Principal Stratton’s recent crackdown on PDAs meant that there were more teachers in the halls between classes to govern student behavior and there were more violators finding themselves with afternoon detentions. Jim was especially careful to avoid that fate. As an officer of the Honor Society and member of several other school clubs, he felt duty-bound to “set a good example.”
He ran a hand through his already tousled red hair and nodded toward the end of the corridor. “I’ll walk you to class,” he said. “I need to ask you something.”
“Okay. Fire away.”
“Do you know where your brother is?”
I found myself blinking at that. I don’t know if I was expecting anything in particular, but certainly this wasn’t on the list of topics I’d imagined Jim would want to talk about. I shifted my textbook to my other arm and nodded. “On his way to Spanish. I just left him in the cafeteria. Why?”
For a moment, Jim looked puzzled by my response, then he shook his head. “No. Sorry. I wasn’t clear. I meant Brian.”
“Oh. Brian?” I blew out a breath, thinking. “Calculus? I haven’t seen him today. He came in early to work on his Physics lab project with Loyola. They want to enter it in some county science fair thing. Why? Did you need him for something?”
“I don’t know,” Jim replied slowly. “You know about the missing books?”
“Uh, huh. Though I don’t get it. Like, at all.”
Jim hesitated before continuing, and I could tell he was carefully considering his next words. “What?” I pressed. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Trix. A coupla guys have claimed they saw him before first period hanging around outside the storeroom where we were keeping the books.”
I felt my jaw drop and my temper rise. What. The. Ever. Loving… “James Winthrop Frayne,” I exclaimed sharply as I whirled to face him, jabbing him in the chest with one finger. “If you think for one minute that Brian had anything- “
“Whoa, Trixie, stop.” Jim held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and took one step back from me. “You know I don’t think that! Brian practically melts to a puddle at the mere idea of jaywalking. He’s not gonna steal anything, much less hundreds of dollars’ worth of books. Besides, it wouldn’t have been possible for one guy to carry them all off without being seen this morning. They were probably taken some time after school hours yesterday or in the middle of the night so the thief could make several trips to carry everything. Or maybe more than one person was involved in the theft.”
“Okay, so why do you want to see Brian?” I muttered, still upset despite his explanation.
“One, to ask him if he saw anything or knows anything and now two, to warn him. If he was working with Loyola this morning in the science lab, then likely he wasn’t anywhere near the storeroom. Someone’s lying and possibly setting him up.”
“Setting him up? Brian? Why? He’s… he’s harmless! What could anyone have against him?” I demanded, glaring at a passing boy as if he were personally responsible for this turn of events. He picked up his speed in an obvious effort to put a safe distance between himself and me as quickly as he could.
Jim shook his head. “I don’t know,” he told me. “It could just be that they saw him early today and he was a convenient scapegoat. And you have to admit, books aren’t a typical target for stealing. You aren’t gonna suspect the usual type for taking them.”
“But you’ll suspect Brian?”
“Trixie, I told you, of course I don’t. But you can see where some people would think the only person or persons who would want that many books would be a bunch of…”
“Nerds?” I suggested quietly, my eyes narrowed to almost slits. “Like Brian and his friends?”
My eldest brother takes after our father in more ways than one. He inherited Dad’s brown hair and warm brown eyes, while Mart, Bobby, and I have our mother’s fair looks, and he’s got the same geeky, mega-brain that propelled my father into a career as a successful bank manager and also got him elected president of the Bowdon Amateur Astronomers Club. As a senior, Brian’s already got his post-high school path all mapped out. He’s been receiving acceptance letters to every college and university he applied to, and he told me recently he’s settled on Columbia. He wants to someday be a pediatrician and considering how good he his with Bobby and the other little kids at church, I know he’ll be a great one.
Jim winced, and I could tell he knew he was treading in unsafe waters with me at the moment. “I just want to talk to him,” he explained. “You said he’s got Calculus now?”
“I think so,” I replied. “I don’t have his entire schedule memorized, but I’m pretty sure that’s his next class.”
With a glance at his watch, Jim nodded. “I think I can catch him after that,” he murmured, almost more to himself than me. “Mrs. De la Cruz will probably even let me go a little early if I tell her it’s regarding the theft.”
He left me at the door to my classroom. I wandered inside and took a seat at my desk. At lunch, my curiosity had initially been stirred by the news of the missing books. Puzzles and mysteries always got my attention. I want to know what happened and why and who was involved. But now things had changed. If someone was accusing my brother of criminal acts, no way was I going to sit around and wait for someone else to provide the answers to those questions. I know I’m no super genius like Brian, but I was determined to find and get to the truth, and I knew I could count on Mart and our friends for help. They all like Brian and I knew they’d be just as ready to defend him as I was.
Filled with that resolve, I opened my folder and took out some paper to write a quick note to Honey and Di. They didn’t share any afternoon classes with me, but I usually saw Di in the hall between sixth and seventh periods. I planned to pass on my note then, asking them to meet me and Mart at Pappy’s after school.
We would get to the bottom of this. Someone had made a huge mistake trying to get Brian in trouble and whoever it was, was about to learn a major lesson. Go after any of the Belden siblings and the only thing it would get you was a heaping plate of hurt and regret! That was a promise.