Hello! Hostfanatic. I hope you enjoy this story, just something I came up with.
The part of the story between border lines is the part that Simon or Jeanette is reading.
Enjoy! Reviews, please, I'd really like to know what you think. Even if you think it's horrible, I still would like to know. :)
"Look out!" Alvin screeched, pressing his helmet tighter to his head. He swerved his skateboard to the side, wincing as he almost hit a pedestrian.
"Alvin, you're going to get us KILLED!" Brittany screamed, clinging to him for dear life. "LET ME OFF OF THIS THING RIGHT NOW!"
Alvin just laughed. "We're fine, Britt!" he insisted. "Dave's got insurance!"
"WHAT?" she shrieked, but he was too busy maneuvering around the sidewalks.
"How on earth did he convince me to let him bring me home?" she groaned, clinging tighter to her boyfriend and squeezing her eyes shut.
"Have a little faith, Britt!" Alvin called, laughing.
"HAVE a LITtle FAITH?" she shrieked. "YOU! ARE! A! CHIPMUNK! YOUR FEET AREN'T EVEN BIG ENOUGH TO TOUCH THE GROUND! YOU ARE STEERING THIS BY LEANING YOUR BODY!"
"And doing a fine job of it, too!" he yelled back.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAURGH!" Brittany screamed.
Jeanette pulled her nose out of her book, startled. "What on earth was THAT?" she asked Simon, who was sharing a seat with her on the bus.
"Beats me," he said with a shrug. "Sounded almost like Brittany. Alvin probably convinced her to ride home with him on his skateboard."
They both looked out the window to see a blue skateboard with two tiny forms on it careening up and down the sidewalk. One of them was wearing a pink sparkly helmet and screeching at the top of her lungs.
"Yep," Jeanette sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Thank goodness the fiasco that is last week was taken care of."
"You said it," Simon agreed. He grinned mischievously. "Although it did give me a very good idea for my creative English assignment…"
"Oh, can I read it?" Jeanette asked eagerly. Then she blushed and ducked her head slightly. "That is, if you're…if you're okay with that…"
"Oh, that's fine!" Simon assured her. "But I'd like to wait until everyone's around before I read it. I'll take it out at home."
"Oh." She frowned a little in confusion. "Okay."
They heard Eleanor and Theodore chattering away in the seat behind them, reviewing their assignment in Home Ec.
"Okay, so it looks like we had a cup of sugar, and then we get the butter and—,"
"No, Ellie, see, we have to put in the half-cup of milk first, and THEN the butter."
Eleanor giggled. "Oops, you're right. Okay, so then we get the vanilla extract…"
Jeanette and Simon laughed quietly together.
"We'll have a new dessert by the end of the day," Jeanette sighed.
"End of tomorrow, tops," Simon agreed. "Ellie and Theo always bring us extras."
The bus rumbled to a halt at their stop. Eleanor shoved the cookbook back into her bag, and the four chipmunks hopped off and hurried up the front walk after a screaming Alvin and Brittany. Alvin grinded to a stop just as Simon, Jeanette, Eleanor, and Theodore walked up.
"Hi, guys," Simon said nonchalantly as they headed into the house. Brittany, panting, was clinging to Alvin so hard that he was certain his circulation had been cut off.
"Britt, are you okay?" Jeanette called over her shoulder to her sister.
"Yeah," Brittany squeaked in a voice much higher than normal. "I'm. Totally. Just. Fine."
"Someone get a Texas Twister, please," Theodore called as he examined Brittany's grip on Alvin's arms.
Alvin managed to pry her off, and she stumbled off the skateboard and collapsed in a heap on the driveway. Her hair was sticking out everywhere under her helmet, and her clothes were wrinkled and messy.
Laughing his head off, Alvin plopped down next to her. "Whew! What a ride!" he said cheerfully.
Brittany slowly turned her head in his direction an inch at a time. Jeanette cringed and rushed into the house, knowing her sister was about to explode.
Sure enough, she leapt to her feet and began screaming so loud they heard an echo, "ALVIN SEVILLE, WHAT THE HECK WERE YOU THINKING?"
Alvin cringed back, scuttling away from her. "Look, Britt, I know that you were—,"
"WHAT? I WAS WHAT?" she shrieked.
He gulped. "Not…the most pleased…with that experience, but—,"
"NOT THE MOST PLEASED? YOU ALMOST KILLED ME!"
"Oh, here we go," Eleanor mumbled.
"COULDHAVEKILLEDMEIALMOSTDIEDYOUCOULDN'TEVENSTEERT HEDARNEDTHINGIWASN'TTHEONLYLIFETHATWASTHREATENEDBY THATEXPERIENCESOI'MNOTJUSTTHINKINGOFMYSELFHEREYOUA LMOSTKILLEDLIKEFIVEPEOPLE—,"
"She's going into lecture mode," Eleanor explained.
"Lecture mode?" Theodore questioned.
"—IDON'TKNOWHOWONEARTHYOUCONVINCEDMETODOTHATBUTYOU
SHOULDHAVEKNOWNIWOULDN'TENJOYITICOULDHAVEBEENKILLE DORHURTORSEVERELYINJUREDORICOULDHAVEBROKENANAILAND DOYOUKNOWWHATACATASTROPHETHATWOULDHAVEBEEN—,"
"She just stands and screams nonstop for a while until she thinks she's gotten her point across," Eleanor told him.
"—GOTHALFAMINDTOJUSTBREAKUPWITHYOURIGHTTHISINSTANT I
DON'TKNOWWHATIWASTHINKINGYOUCOULDHAVEKILLEDUSANDIF THAT'S
THEKINDOFRESPONSIBILITYYOU'REGOINGTOBESHOWINGTHENT HISISDONE
AND IF YOU EVER DRAG ME INTO ANOTHER SITUATION LIKE THAT AGAIN YOU CAN JUST CONSIDER THIS RELATIONSHIP OVER!"
She exhaled in a huff, yanked the helmet off her head, and stomped up the front steps while complaining to Eleanor about the state her hair was in.
Alvin watched her go with a little smile on his face.
"She's cute when she's angry," he chuckled.
"Aren't you worried about everything she said? Y'know, breaking up with you and all that?" Theodore asked timidly.
Alvin grinned cockily. "Naw. She'd just come running back to the A-man after two weeks."
Brittany threw her helmet at him as hard as she could, and it bounced off of his head. "Ouch!" he yelled, falling over again.
She slammed the door firmly behind her.
"Something tells me that she isn't going to be riding to school on Alvin's skateboard anymore," Jeanette said thoughtfully as she watched her sister storm out of sight.
"Probably not," Simon agreed with a chuckle. "We'll wait until she's finished blow-drying her fur to perfection, and then I'll read you the story that I wrote."
Jeanette smiled up at him. "I can't wait to hear it," she told him honestly.
Theodore and Eleanor raced to the kitchen instantly to start baking their cookies. They went from cupboard to cupboard, ransacking each one and grabbing the ingredients that they needed.
"Baking cookies, eh?" they heard Alvin ask. "Do you need help stirring the batter?"
They turned to see him holding the electric blender and beaming hopefully at them.
"NO!" everyone screamed at once.
Pouting, Alvin dropped the blender and shuffled out of the room. "You guys never let me have any fun," he sulked.
"You're grounded, remember?" Eleanor reminded him. "I don't think Dave would like it very much under the circumstances if you went off and played with the blender."
Alvin conceded this point but still looked sulky when Brittany walked in again. She had fixed her hair, re-applied her makeup, and changed her clothes. Now her ginger fur was positioned perfectly again.
She glared at Alvin before hopping up on the table with her sister. "Are those cookies?" she exclaimed.
Eleanor grinned at her as she and Theodore slid the tray into the oven together. "Yes, they are, but they're going to be baking for a while."
Brittany pouted and slumped down on the counter again.
Simon walked over holding several typed-out pages. "While we're waiting, does anyone care to hear my story?" he asked hopefully. "It's all about what happened last week…" His eyes sparkled. "With an interesting twist."
They all expressed enthusiasm and curiosity at this idea, scooting in on the counter. Simon spread the pages out.
"Chapter one," he read. "The Mystery."
"Ooh, this is going to be good," Theodore whispered excitedly, hanging onto Eleanor's arm.
Simon cleared his throat and began to read. "It was another baffling case," he said smugly. "But then again, you don't hire a private eye for the easy ones…"
Simon Seville. Detective. The best one that the police force had ever known.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Alvin interrupted. "Excuse me? Is this story going to be all about you and how fabulous you are? Because if it is, then I can leave right now."
Simon glared at him. "Stay put. I'm not finished yet."
"I think Simon would be a great detective," Jeanette chimed in. She smiled at Simon. "He's so smart."
Blushing and clearing his throat again, Simon pushed his glasses up on his nose and continued the story as Brittany and Alvin made gagging noises.
He sat in his office just twiddling his thumbs. Nothing particularly exciting had happened lately; just another long, boring day.
Little did he know just how interesting things were going to become.
Before he knew what was going on, the door to his office had slammed open. Simon blinked and squinted.
Standing in the doorway was a rather imperious-looking chipette. She had long ginger fur that hung down in intricate curls. She was wearing a strapless pink dress that glittered with sequins, and draped around her neck was a large pink-and-gold feather boa. She wore shiny pink high heels. Above her curls was a large pink hat with an enormous gold feather sticking out of it. Altogether, it looked as though some sort of sparkly, exotic bird of paradise had just come to land in his office.
"Ooh, that outfit sounds fabulous," Brittany exclaimed. "A little old-fashioned, though…and what does this have to do with last week?"
Simon grinned at her. "I re-wrote the story of last week and set it back in time in the '50's," he explained. "Nice, huh? That's the kind of outfit that they wore back then. The richer folk, anyway."
"Oh, I'm rich," she gasped.
"Wait, how do you know that's you?" Alvin asked.
Everyone stared at him.
"Oh, fine, it's totally you," he griped, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Simon Seville, detective, I presume?" Her voice was high-pitched and could have been pretty if it weren't so bossy.
"Hey!" Brittany yelled.
"It's true, Britt," Alvin told her.
"No interruptions, please, guys," Simon said sternly as he continued to read.
"That depends on who's asking," he responded stiffly. He already knew her type. Rich. Stuffy. Full of herself.
"I've got a case for you," she continued as though she hadn't heard his remark. She sat down with a flourish on the chair in front of his desk, tossing her feather boa over her shoulder and smirking at him.
"Oh, really." His tone was monotonous as he shuffled through some papers.
"Well, are you interested or not?" the chipette snapped.
Simon looked up and stared at her, raising an eyebrow. He was always interested in a case, but there was no need to take that tone.
"Listen up," he said in a low voice. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'd talk nicely if I were you."
She glared at him for a moment, and then flounced back with a huff. "Brittany Miller," she announced as though it were some great honor. He nearly thought that a band would strike up behind her.
However, it caused him to choke a little bit. "The Brittany Miller?" he stammered. "Brittany Miller the millionaire?"
"Oh, no," she smiled. "Brittany Miller the billionaire."
He gawked at her in silent astonishment for a moment, and then leaned back. "So what would a fancy-pants like you want anything to do with me?" he asked her skeptically.
She sniffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Women do not wear pants. The very thought."
He rolled his eyes. "Well, that wasn't exactly my point, Miss Miller."
She sighed. "I heard that you were the best detective on the squad, and I need this case to be solved fast before word gets out." She grimaced slightly. "And I figure that you're so low on the popularity food chain that no one will notice it. I just have to make sure that I'm in disguise whenever I…associate with you." She waved one hand elegantly. "I'm sure you understand."
"That's some disguise you've got on," he told her pleasantly. "You're a bird, right?"
She flushed and stood up abruptly. "Are you here to insult me, or are you here to get a case?" she snapped at him.
He raised an eyebrow. "I am here because this is my office. I work here."
She frowned for a moment. "Oh…" Then she smiled triumphantly. "Then why am I here?"
"I haven't got the slightest idea," he answered dryly, "but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway."
She drew herself up to her full height.
"I have called," she said imperiously, "because…my bracelet…is missing."
Theodore frowned. "Wait a minute. THAT'S not what happened."
"Nowhere NEAR what happened," Eleanor agreed.
Simon slapped the pages down on the table in exasperation. "Look, I may have taken a little creative license on it…"
Jeanette coughed a little bit.
He turned to her with a confused expression as she blushed and looked away from him. He noticed, though, something dangling beside her foot…something that she was trying to make sure no one noticed.
"Jeanette, what's in your backpack?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'll tell you what's in it," a voice hollered, and then Alvin pulled himself up out of the main pouch with a manuscript in his grasp.
Jeanette was now the color of a tomato. "Alvin! You were snooping in my backpack! Give it to me!" she hissed, lunging for the papers. He easily vaulted out of her backpack and dodged out of his grasp. He hopped up onto the table, displaying the pages.
Brittany squinted at the title. Then she gasped.
"See, Jeanette wrote the real-life story of what happened last week for HER creative English assignment," Alvin said triumphantly.
Simon turned to Jeanette, both eyebrows raised. She was now slumped down low in her chair, covering her face with her hands.
"Well, then," Theodore announced. "Jeanette, you read us YOUR version of what actually happened last week, and then Simon can read us his 'creatively licensed' version, and we can compare and contrast the two."
"And that can be OUR creative English assignment!" Alvin said cheerfully.
"You don't even take that class," Simon pointed out.
Alvin pouted at him. "Don't ruin my fun, Si."
Simon rolled his eyes and turned to Jeanette. "All right, Jeanette, can you read us the first chapter of YOUR story?" he asked her pleasantly.
She flushed a little. "I…I don't…" she stammered.
"I can do it if you don't want to, Jean," Eleanor volunteered cheerfully.
"Ellie, we have to keep our eyes on the cookies and our EARS on the stories," Theodore reminded her.
Jeanette shook her head once, a quick, jerky movement. "No, no, it's fine. I can read it." She flushed darkly, looked over at Simon, and then quickly looked away again.
Grabbing her story from Alvin and shooting him a dark look, Jeanette shuffled the pages, cleared her throat, and began to read.