Disclaimer: I do not own the Trixie Belden series, any of the characters in the books, or anything else you may recognize (i.e. NYU, the Marines). No profit is being made.

Tennessee Dan
Prologue

"Sergeant Daniel Mangan, United States Marine Corps Reserve," the tall, dark-haired young man mumbled to himself as he stepped down from the C-130 bringing them back from the war. After four long years, his enlistment was over. He could go to school, not wake up every day thinking, Today might be it for me, but I've said my goodbyes and I knew what I was signing on for. Now, he didn't know why he had signed up to be a reservist after his stint was done. He just felt he had to do it. They'd given him options. He could have gone back to New York, but he didn't want to. He wanted a fresh start, new people.

Sure, he still loved the Bob-Whites like family, but even families grow apart. Jim had fast-tracked himself to get his degrees done as quickly as possible, and it felt like he had lost part of himself doing that. Mart and Diana got married the summer after her graduation; Mart was no longer a "fun" buddy- he was a married man, with responsibilities, and now he and Diana were expecting. His old friend wasn't waiting for him at home. Brian, like Jim, immersed himself in his studies, which took him all the way out to California to take advantage of an amazing scholarship he'd earned. Trixie and Honey had abandoned the dream of a Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency. Well, Honey had abandoned the dream, choosing instead to get a Public Relations degree out of left field, angering Trixie. Dan didn't think they'd spoken since July three years ago when Honey finally admitted that she wasn't going to accept the invitation to the Criminal Justice program at NYU. Trixie had strayed from Sleepyside, too. She came home as often as she could, but she was a Criminology major at Georgetown in DC; her childhood dream crushed, she had decided to strive become a criminal profiler and a member of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit.

That just left Dan. Without his tight-knit support group, he became more introspective and realized that the more he was going to overcome his past, the further from New York City he'd have to get. His ties were too heavy and too painful. There were his gang days, and there were his parents. He'd have to stop holding on so tightly if he was to move on. His father had been a Marine pilot, Dan discovered. The next day, he'd gone to the nearest recruiting office and signed up. He had burned all of his acceptance letters underneath a pot of Mr. Maypenny's hunter's stew, packed all of his belongings, and then trudged up to Regan's apartment over the Wheelers' garage, permission forms in hand. His uncle had been uneasy, and it was some task for Dan to get him to sign, but finally Regan relented and signed them. He, too, knew the inexplicable calling of family service. His own father had been an Army Ranger, and had Regan not had a horse accident at sixteen that caused him to fail his physical, he would have joined the Army, too, to feel closer to his dad.

Now, four years later, after surviving boot camp at Parris Island and two tours in the Middle Eastern desert as a sniper, with plenty of scars to show for his work, it was over, and he had to choose where to go. New York was out of the question. Anywhere up North was, really, since it would be too close to home. He could go to Texas, or California, or Montana, or Florida, or Nebraska, or Alaska. He could go anywhere. So why did he choose here?

Willa Logan took a long look in the full-length mirror that was once her mother's but that now resided in her bedroom. It was early, well before sun-up, and it was the day of her sixteenth birthday. She glanced at the clock to see the time- four in the morning.

Great, now that Faron Young song is stuck in my head, along with every other song that remotely relates to today.

Willa, for the most part, was satisfied with her appearance. Long blonde hair that normally cascaded far down her back had been pulled up to keep it from her face since the time she had gotten up an hour ago (she had never really been one for sleeping- she had too much else to do!). She wasn't too tall, but what she lacked in height she made up for in spunk, confidence, and sheer determination. Her figure was curvy, but her legs were long and toned. Her arms were strong but not outwardly muscular, and she liked it that way. Willa just wished that her waistline was a bit smaller.

Oh, well. I'm not ugly, so I might as well be satisfied that I have some semblance of prettiness about me. That's good, right?

Yeah, "sweet sixteen and never been kissed". Is that how the saying goes?

In the light produced from the single bulb in her bedside lamp, she studied her face. Willa had been graced with a strong but not overly prominent brow and forehead. She had her father's high cheekbones, square jaw, "normal" nose, and deep blue eyes. A full, well-proportioned mouth completed the picture.

It was the middle of June, but her farmer's tan was just now becoming a full tan, thanks to her meticulous applications of either high-SPF sunscreen or tan accelerator. She now sported a glowing, golden tan.

Too bad I won't be getting to show it off. I've got too much to do!

Lord, I wish Mama could be here. Daddy tries so hard, but I'm sixteen and helping him raise two younger brothers! My sixteenth birthday should be a celebration of me and a day to share with my family. Instead, I'm baking my own cake. I guess that sixteenth candle today will be a reminder that I survived another year.

Another year of what, exactly, though? Stretching herself seventy ways except the way she wants to go? Trying to save the world? Dealing with life?

Thank you for reading!

More to come!
~Dixie