Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone for being so patient and to apologize for not responding to reviews or reviewing other TBFF author's stories. I know how important that is. Unfortunately, I'm still experiencing daily headaches. They're not as bad as they were but I still can't look at a computer screen for a significant period time without paying dearly for it. This chapter has not been edited by a beta or proofread as obsessively as usual so I hope it's not full of typographical and spelling errors. Anyway, I hope you enjoy "Midnight."

Chapter Thirteen: Midnight

Trixie turned her head to look at the boy intruding on her solitude. He was standing about three feet away from her, his shoulders resting against the back wall. Dressed in a dark gray suit with a black shirt and striped tie, he looked like he was from Beverly Hills. He was trim and lean and his clothes fit his frame well.

Slightly disheveled, his light brown hair was longer than most of the boys in the room, styled in the way made famous by Zac Efron and Robert Pattison. Messy and kind of windswept. He had a golden tan. His eyes were hazel, his nose straight and his chin well-defined. Something about him reminded Trixie of the boys in Di's American Eagle or Aeropostale catalogs. Since she had never seen him before, she assumed he was the new senior that her friends had been mentioned earlier.

'Jane and Patty are right. The new boy is good looking but he's not really my type,' Trixie thought with detachment as she studied the newcomer. 'His eyes aren't green and his hair doesn't have any warm red tones…' Biting the inside of her cheek, Trixie reined in her runaway thoughts, realizing with annoyance that she had instinctively compared him to Jim.

"You're Trixie Belden, right? Mart Belden's younger sister?" he asked, his voice was smooth and warm.

Trixie's blue eyes narrowed, trying to read the young man beside her. Then, she remembered how often her first impressions had led her astray in the past. She was not going to jump to conclusions about him.

"Yes," she replied, turning toward him. "You're the new guy? From Beverly Hills?"

"Close enough," he responded. "I'm Dylan McLauter." As he introduced himself, his eyes raked over her.

Uncomfortable, Trixie shifted. "The music's great," she said, making small talk as she tried to think of a way to get rid of him.

Dylan's mouth quirked and laughter lit his eyes. "Great. Perfect for dancing." He paused, and then added sardonically, "If you're wearing the right shoes…"

Grimacing, Trixie asked, "You heard us?"

"Yeah."

When Trixie opened her mouth to respond, Dylan held up a hand. "Don't worry. There's no way I'm going to ask you to dance. You convinced me that you and those shoes are a deadly combination." He paused and gave her a speculative look before he continued, "So why you'd wear them to what everyone is calling the party of the year?"

"A girl's gotta be in style." Trixie responded nonchalantly.

Dylan looked skeptical. "You don't strike me as the kind of girl who worries about what the fashion magazines say."

Raising a sandy brow, Trixie asked, "Are you saying that I'm not…"

He cut her off. "Not at all. I'm saying that I don't think you're the type of girl who cares what everyone else thinks." Dylan paused and then continued in a dry tone, "And you shouldn't think that I'm the kind of guy who's easily played for a fool. I'm not going to let you pick a fight with me so you can stomp off."

Their eyes met and held, both of their gazes considering.

"So what's with the shoes, Trixie Belden?"

"I didn't want to come," she admitted with a sigh.

"So you don't like Jake?" he asked, feeling her out.

Somewhat aghast, Trixie shook her head vehemently, her soft, blonde curls dancing around her face. "No! Jake's nice and all. I just don't know him that well. We don't hang out with the same crowd. Jake's friends are mostly football players and cheerleaders." Trixie shrugged her shoulders and gave up trying to explain.

The young man turned toward the dancing throng. With an appreciative grin, he admitted, "Yeah, I think he's introduced me to every cheerleader in town. Still, I got the impression that you and he were friends."

"Well, we're not enemies but I wouldn't say we're friends either—more like friendly acquaintances," the blonde girl returned, glancing over at where Jake was dancing with Jane.

"So you're not interested in him?"

Trixie smothered a laugh. "Jake? Gosh, no, but it wouldn't matter if I was." With a conspiratorial smile, she leaned toward Dylan and whispered, "I don't like to gossip but…" She paused dramatically. "…Jake only dates cheerleaders."

Enjoying the unaffected repartee, Dylan leaned toward her, his voice imitating her tone as he softly responded, "Maybe he's tired of cheerleaders…"

Chewing on her bottom lip, Trixie's eyes darted around the crowd. When she looked back at Dylan, her eyes were dancing with laughter, "That must be why the entire color guard team is here."

"You think?"

"Oh, yeah."

Dylan smiled at her. "Well, another mystery solved by Trixie Belden, Girl Detective."

Instinctively, she stiffened. Trixie was used to the jokes and snide comments but Dylan's remark caught off guard. With newly-acquired deliberateness, she took a couple slow breaths, calming the defensiveness and hurt, and assumed a neutral expression.

Unfortunately, the young man was watching her intently and had seen the flicker of emotion cross her face before she was able to hide it. "What did I say? You went stiff on me."

Trixie didn't know why she answered him. Afterward, she wondered if it was because the incident with Jim made her feel isolated from her brothers and her friends, because she felt like she didn't have anyone to confide in, anyone to turn to anymore…

"I know everyone makes fun of me."

Dylan laughed at her and she stiffened again. Trixie knew that she sounded pathetic and turned away from him with a toss of her head. Naively, she wondered if the rum in the fruit punch she had sipped had fried her brain. She needed to get away from this guy and all of these people.

"Trixie," he said her name softly. When she continued to move away from him, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Trixie stumbled and Dylan automatically reached out and caught her. For a moment, he held her against him, her back cradled against the front of his lean frame. With a soft laugh, he acknowledged, "You are deadly in those shoes."

He let her pull away from him but took her arm and spun her around to face him. "Are you okay?"

Red-faced, she nodded, "Better than I would have been if I'd went sprawling across the floor. Everyone would have loved that."

Smoothing the skirt of her dress, she smiled grimly and began, "Dylan, it was nice…"

"They're not making fun of you," he said and then paused. Then, with a shrug, he backtracked, "Well, maybe some of them are. However, most of the kids I've talked to seem to think you're…uh…interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" she said, her eyes skeptical. "That's not that word they used, is it?"

"No," Dylan admitted honestly and then hesitated before he continued. "Some of the guys think you're scary but Tad thinks you're pretty cool."

Trixie's tense expression eased. "Tad's okay. He just got involved with some bad people."

"He likes you."

"It took a while but we've become friends."

"Is what Tad and the others said true?"

"That I'm a nosy busybody?"

"I'm serious, Trixie," he chided not realizing that she was serious, too. "Have you really helped capture drug runners?"

"A couple."

"Jewel thieves?"

Shrugging a shoulder, Trixie replied, "Maybe a few."

"Blackmailers?"

"One or two."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he stared at Trixie with admiration. Then, a slow grin formed on his lips and he asked, "Lions and tigers and bears?"

Once again, he managed to surprise her. The line from The Wizard of Oz made Trixie smile as she realized that he wasn't being snide or trying to make her feel bad. Relaxing, her blues eyes widened with mock gravity and she responded solemnly, "Well, it wasn't exactly a lion or a tiger…"

"Just some kind of wild cat?"

"Uh huh."

"No bears?"

"No bears," she replied, her voice grave.

Dylan leaned toward her and whispered, "We could go look for one." Her eyes danced in amusement as she shook her head.

For a moment, the two young people stared at each other. Then they looked away. Silently, they gazed at the dancing, socializing teenagers around them. After a few silent moments, Dylan turned and moved closer to Trixie. Warily, she glanced over at him.

"What?" she asked, her tone a bit defensive.

His hazel eyes were appraising. As Trixie stared into them, she realized that the color of his eyes was similar to the color of Honey's. However, his gaze was enigmatic where Honey's was open and honest. Usually. Recently, her best friend's eyes seemed shuttered a lot. Sighing, Trixie wondered if anything would ever be the same.

"Seriously, Trixie, why don't we get out of here? We could go someplace where we could be alone."

Trixie made a sound of disbelief that was a cross between a laugh and a snort. "Excuse me?"

"Let's go somewhere where we can get to know each other," the young man told her. His eyes were warm and earnest as he reached out and caressed her forearm. His fingers gently ran over her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

"No," she answered firmly.

"Why not?"

"First, I don't know you so I'm not going anywhere with you—especially alone with you. Second, my parents are supposed to pick me up around one. I'm already in trouble over my grades. I can't imagine what kind of trouble that I'd be in if I left with a strange—yes, you're definitely strange—boy. Finally, I'm not interested in you."

For a moment, he stared at her, his expression calculating. Then, his expression eased into a smile.

"You're the consummate good girl, aren't you?"

Trixie laughed shortly without amusement. "I've been in my share of trouble."

"Yeah, maybe," Dylan said. "But you've never been in trouble like Tad or your friend, Mangan. He was in a gang, wasn't he?"

Trixie's reaction was instantaneous. She stood up straight and closed the distance between her and the young man. "Don't you dare judge Dan!" She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. "You don't know anything about him or what he went through when…"

Dylan grabbed her hand and cut her off. "I wasn't judging Mangan. I was judging you. Be honest, Curls. The only trouble you've ever been in was when you didn't clean your room or when Mommy and Daddy weren't happy with your grades." His tone was taunting.

"That's not true!" Trixie snapped, pulling her hand out of his. "I'm always getting in trouble when I'm investigating…"

"Crimes? Mysteries?" Dylan said. He was silent for a moment as he stared at her. "You know that makes sense."

Trixie looked at him. The rational voice inside of her head told her to walk away but something stopped her.

His eyes were cool as he continued, "Yeah, the only time you get in trouble is when you're solving crimes and mysteries—helping people, saving the world from the bad guys. You're right, Trixie." His voice was mocking. "You are a bad girl."

Trixie gritted her teeth. What a jerk, she thought, spun around and started to walk away.

"You like the adventure and the thrill of danger, don't you? That's what all the mysteries are about, isn't it?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure I do. When you're investigating crime, you can be yourself. You don't have to follow anyone's rules—do you?—because if you're trying to help someone, it's okay to use any means to do it."

She froze. His words struck a chord. They stung but there was some truth to them. Slowly, she turned to face him. Her troubled eyes met his.

"When you let yourself be you—the real you, the people around you aren't happy, are they? They worry about you and the trouble you get into. They don't understand that you thrive on it, that it makes you feel alive."

She swallowed convulsively. He was right. She was an investigator, a detective at heart. She reveled in it—identifying suspects, piecing together evidence, solving mysteries. It made her feel alive. The danger thrilled and invigorated her. The only time she felt bad about it was when Honey was terrified by their adventures, when others made her feel guilty about putting herself and Honey in harm's way. She could hear their recriminations in her head. 'Why do you have to be so reckless?' 'Don't you ever think, Trixie?' and 'You could have gotten Honey killed!'

With an uneasy sigh, Trixie thought about Madeleine Wheeler. She wondered if Mrs. Wheeler knew how much she craved excitement, if that was why she had persuaded Jim to date another girl. She recalled how upset the Wheelers got whenever she and Honey talked about opening their own detective agency. She saw the fear in Moms' eyes and the tightness around her father's mouth whenever she was involved in a mystery. She heard the reproach in Jim's and Bryan's voiced as they rebuked her for what they called her irresponsible and thoughtless behavior.

"Do they give you a hard time? Do they tell you how you need to be more careful, how you shouldn't be so reckless?"

He moved closer and she could feel his breath on her hair as he continued.

"Of course, you can't. No matter how hard you try. You can't change but you try and you fail. You can't measure to everyone's expectations—make everyone happy. It drags you down, doesn't it?"

Without realizing it, she nodded.

"Why can't they accept you for who you are? Why do you have to hide that side of yourself—the side that craves danger and excitement?"

Dylan's tone changed. It softened and became persuasive. "Maybe it's time, Trixie. It's time for a new beginning—time to give in and embrace the reckless, danger-seeking part of your spirit."

She felt mesmerized, seduced by his words—by the idea of being able to do what she wanted without worrying about what the other Bob-Whites would say, about how upset her parents would be and what the Wheelers and the Lynches would think.

Trixie chewed on her bottom lip, trying to gather her thoughts. When Dylan took her hand and pulled her toward a dark corner of the recreation room, she didn't resist. As they reached it, he spun her around and placed himself between her and the other teenagers in the room.

He was close when he whispered the words again. "It's time, Trixie. Give in and let the real Trixie out."

"No," she denied, her voice was breathy and unconvincing. "No, you're wrong. It's not like that."

"It is," he insisted. "Come on, Curls. Admit it. They can't accept who you are. They want you to be someone else. Aren't you tired of worrying about what they'll think? Aren't you sick of trying to make them happy?"

Trixie wet her lips as his words struck home. Dylan was right. Sometimes she resented her friends and her family. It seemed like no matter how hard she tried she disappointed everyone around her. Somewhere deep inside, Trixie was afraid that her family and friends wished that she was different. She closed her eyes as memories battered her.

"Don't you ever think, Trixie?" Jim yelled, shaking her, as Brian carefully checked Honey for injuries.

"Are you trying to get you and Honey killed?" her oldest brother asked disdainfully.

"Please be careful, baby," Moms pleaded, her blue eyes filled with worry.

Suddenly, a loud cheer went up distracting her from her painful musings. Trixie glanced past Dylan at the partying teenagers who were watching the television. According to the announcer, the New Year would arrive in less than one minute.

"You can be yourself with me, Trixie. I won't judge you or give you a hard time," Dylan promised.

Trixie looked back at him. His eyes sparkled in the light.

"You can let go with me. Be whoever you want to be."

She wet her lips. It was so tempting.

Another cry went up. The rest of the young people shouted in unison, "TEN!"

The countdown had started. On the television screen, the ball began its descent. Strobe lights began to flash, transforming Trixie's view of the young man into a series of still pictures.

"NINE!"

Trixie saw him smile. His teeth were white and straight.

"EIGHT!"

Dylan's eyes were hazel, flecked with gold and green. They were focused intently on hers.

"SEVEN!"

Her eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to her, invading her space again. He smelled clean, fresh. Like soap. Not some overpowering cologne.

"SIX!"

He leaned in, his upper body pinning Trixie against the wall of the recreation room.

"FIVE!"

His breath brushed her face. It smelled sweet like homemade fruit punch.

"FOUR!"

She closed her eyes.

"THREE!"

His lips brushed hers.

"TWO!"

They were soft and the kiss was...nice.

"ONE!"

Then, it was over. Bewildered, she stared into his eyes and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

"It's time, Curls." He smiled slowly as he continued softly, "Time for new beginnings."

Dylan took her shoulders in his hands. Gently, he eased her away from the wall. Her eyes widened in surprised. He was going to kiss her again. She didn't pull away but a soft, breathy sound escaped her mouth before his closed over hers. Her eyes drifted shut.

It started out like the one before. At first, it was soft and sweet and undemanding but then it changed. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting her with an urgent heat and intensity. The kiss overpowered and overwhelmed Trixie, sending fire dancing along her nerves. Strange, new feelings washed over her in waves as the kiss deepened.

Then, it was over. Still holding her close, Dylan looked down at her, his expression grave.

"Happy New Year, Trixie Belden," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her cheek. The strobes lights flashed and he was gone, lost in the crowd of celebrating teenagers.