Chapter: 4

Never Land

Brian's face twisted into a grimace. He wasn't quite sure what had brought on his sister's immature outburst. But Mart knew. And it had less to do with becoming an adult than it did with a certain someone going away.

"Ah yes," he said, taking an olive from his plate and tossing it onto his sister's potato salad, "you'd make a fine Peter Pan. In fact, the resemblance is uncanny, now that I think of it. Why Scottish author J. M. Barrie must have had just you in mind when he penned the first play, back in 1904."

Trixie picked out the black orb and popped it into her mouth as she flashed back to another summer day, long, long, ago. It had been raining cats and dogs if she recalled correctly. And Bobby hadn't been born yet. Moms had pulled the chairs away from the kitchen table and tossed Grandma Belden's giant old coverlet atop it. Then, herding her three children into their make-shift fort, Trixie's mother had read them the fantastical tale by the light of their father's old camp lantern. Full of lusty pirates and mischievous fairies, the story had captured the restless children's attention and spurred their imaginations.

It was a wonderful memory. But there was one problem with it.

"Peter Pan was a BOY…" Trixie reminded Mart rather loudly.

Suddenly, alarm bells sounded in Dan Mangan's head. Jumping in, before Mart could reply, he said, "That's right. And if you ask me, Trixie's more the Tinkerbelle type. Can't you just see her giggling and dancing through Never Land in her flower petal hat?"

Jim let out a resounding whoop and moved to place his hand across his darker-haired friend's forehead. "Hey Brian," he called, laughing with gusto. "Do the symptoms of heatstroke include delusions?"

Brian chuckled but admitted, "Actually, yes. However, I tend to agree with Dan. I guess you haven't heard about 'the garden club incident,' have you, Jim?"

Again, Trixie's blue eyes grew round as saucers. She would have dumped her plate of food in her oldest brother's lap to quiet him if it hadn't been so yummy. "That's supposed to be a family secret!" she shrieked instead.

Mart laughed and elbowed Jim in the ribs. "Some secret," he said. "Half of the town was there."

Jim grinned, now wholly intrigued. "There for what?" he asked to Trixie's horror.

"Well…" Mart went on, giving his sister a sinister smirk. "Seems, once upon a time, our dear Beatrix, wearing nothing but her lacy pantaloons, went tripping through the sprinklers at Sleepyside's Annual Floral Extravaganza. Rumor has it; she made quite a 'splash' and took great sport in eluding those who attempted to detain her."

Trixie felt like crawling under the checkered picnic blanket as her friends burst out laughing -and never coming out again when Jim exclaimed, "Gleeps! Never Land sounds like a mighty fun place! I wonder if I should build my school there? How does 'Jim Frayne's Year-Round Camp for 'Lost Boys' sit with you, Tink?"

Giving the teasing red-headed boy a shove, Trixie said, "You just better watch yourself, Jim Frayne. When us fairies are happy, we 'feel dancey' . But when we are troubled, we are 'undancey'. If you're not careful, I might just cut off your arm and toss it to the crocodiles! Besides, what my dear brother has forgotten to mention, is that I was only four at the time."

To which Brian shook his head and corrected her. "You were six and old enough to know better."

Again, the Bob-Whites laughed, all but Diana, that is.

"Honestly. You're all so juvenile," Miss Lynch said. "Why we might as well rename Sleepyside, Never Land. Nothing ever changes around here. And it's so boring. Personally, I can't wait to grow up and leave. New York City, here I come!"

Dan looked at the naïve girl next to him with sad, dark eyes. "If I were you, I'd put on a pair of sunglasses and slow it down a bit," he told Di, seriously. "I think those big city lights are blinding you. Take it from someone who knows. The Big Apple isn't as rosy as the media makes it seem."

Only Dan's advice had fallen on deaf ears. An all too familiar jingling had drowned it out.

After checking the glowing screen of her cell phone, Diana was in mid-text reply when Mart snatched the device from her hand. Dashing off to the "adult table", Trixie's brother tossed the irritating distraction into the "hands-off bowl" and then returned to his group of friends.

"You didn't need to do that," the miffed young lady scolded the unfazed boy. "I was about finished when you so rudely interrupted me. The country club only asked that I confirm my reservation for the tennis courts in the morning."

Trixie had a hard time understanding Di's growing obsession with her cell phone. Trixie didn't own a cell. Well, not one of her own, anyway. She, Mart, and Brian shared a phone. And it was only to be used to keep in contact with their parents when they were away from home. Of course, Honey and Jim both had mobile devices. But they didn't seem to be addicted to theirs like Di was hers. And Dan claimed he couldn't care less that he didn't have a phone – he didn't like people bugging him all of the time. Occasionally the solitary young man would borrow his uncle's cell, but mostly Dan used Mr. Maypenny's landline if he needed to make a call.

"Couldn't that have waited until you got home?" Jim asks Diana, letting out a sigh. "You know the rules, Di. We aren't to use mobile devices at the Belden's or during Bob-White gatherings unless absolutely necessary. There's a club fine of a dollar if you do," he reminded her.

Diana stood up and removed a paper bill from the pocket of her white culottes. Then, scrunching it into a ball, she tossed it angrily at her club's president. "You're such a Neanderthal, Jim Frayne," she said. "I suppose you don't want me posting the video of your rocket launch on See Me, either, do you?"

"That's a big no," Jim replied. "What's gotten into you, Di? I shouldn't have to remind you that our club activities are supposed to be kept secret. We don't need everyone in town reading about them on your online social page."

Diana's violet eyes became stormy. "You just don't want everyone knowing you're not Mr. Perfect," she said.

Honey's hand flew to her mouth. Di's remark was uncalled for, and she seemed to be itching for a fight. Perhaps Trixie had been right when she suggested that their friend had been acting out of character lately?

"Di," the worried girl begged. "Please listen to me. It's not wise to let everyone know where you are and what you are up to all of the time. There are all kinds of bad people out there with ill intentions. If they know where to find you, you could be kidnapped, or worse!" Ever since she'd been a little girl, Honey had feared abduction. Her father's money made her a good target for kidnappers.

Diana rolled her eyes and tossed her napkin atop her plate of half-eaten food. "If you ask me, hanging around with Trixie is more apt to get you in trouble," she retorted. "The Aguileras certainly weren't following you on See Me when they got the idea of locking you in the pilothouse of that abandoned steamboat on the Mississippi, now where they?"

When no one commented, Diana felt like she'd won the round. "See Me is perfectly safe," she insisted with a little laugh. "Everybody, who's anybody, has a page."

And while the gloating girl's words may have had a ring of truth to them, her tone had an uppity air, which shocked the B.W.G.s. Diana had always been such an unpretentious young lady.

"None of the other Bob-Whites do," Brian reminded her darkly. "Just be careful what you post, Di. As your friends, we care about what happens to you."

Once the leftovers had been put away and the last crumbs of Dutch Apple Pie, licked from their sparkling pans, the Bob-Whites of the Glen settled back to enjoy the evening. Their parents, having retired inside, were in the kitchen playing a hand of Bridge around the large oaken table. While Larry, Terry, and Bobby, up past their bedtime, were dashing about the back yard, shrieking happily, in chase of flashing fluorescent lightning bugs. Having joined the boys' merry hunt, the Belden's Irish Setter and his spritely Springer companion, were yipping and snapping unsuccessfully at the elusive darting insects. Meanwhile, through the living room picture window, Trixie could just make out Di's little sisters, slowly falling asleep on the sofa as they watched television in the dark.

Stretching out on the picnic blanket next to Jim, the contented young girl gazed up into the night sky. Part of tonight's gathering had been so the teens could watch the Perseids meteor showers, which peaked this time of year. It was a good night for viewing, as the moon was only a sliver, leaving the backdrop of Space deep and black.

Jim had said the B.W.G.s could possibly see between fifty to seventy showers per hour if they stayed up late enough. But Trixie would settle for getting a glimpse of one or two. For tonight she had a couple of wishes to make on those "shooting stars." Though technically, as her brother Mart had felt fit to point out, these "shooting stars" were simply streaks of particles released into the atmosphere from comet 109P/Swift Tuttle.

But no matter, even the two boys' technical gobbledygook couldn't take away the magic which was crackling in the air around the young people like electricity. Trixie couldn't quite put her finger on its source, but something was giving her goosebumps of excited anticipation.

And then, adding to this, Jim reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze when he thought the others weren't looking. Oh, how she was going to miss him when he went away to school! Trixie tried not to think about it. But the harder she tried, the more she did. And she had to wonder if Jim was thinking about it too.

Unconsciously, the fretful teenager ran her fingers back and forth across the boy's name, which had been engraved into the silver I.D. bracelet dangling about her wrist. Jim had presented Trixie with the token, after a Bob-White's trip to Iowa, as a reminder of how special she was.

Only now, Trixie wanted to tell Jim how special he was. But saying such things, let alone admitting them, wasn't so easy. She'd only known Jim for a short time, but he was almost as important to her as her family. And yet, there were still so many things she didn't know about her freckled friend.

After a few more minutes of thought, Trixie propped herself up on her elbows and said, "Jim, do you really plan on minoring in all that space stuff in college? Somehow, I've always thought of you as the more woodsy Daniel Boone type of guy. Not the Carl Sagan kind who sits behind a telescope and computer all day."

Though it was dark, Trixie could see the young man she'd been talking to was grinning.

"Don't worry," he told her. "I don't plan on hanging up my coonskin cap anytime soon, Trix. But look at it this way. The universe over our heads is simply an extension of the world under our feet. It's another exciting frontier, just waiting to be explored. "

Trixie grunted and crinkled her nose. "Now you sound like one of those ridiculous characters out of Mart's Cosmo McNaught science fiction books," she said. "But I suppose I see where you're coming from."

Then, catching sight of a white globe of light, slowly making its way across the heavens, she added, "OK, then, Mr. Astrophysicist, time for your first pop quiz. Tell me, is that an airplane or a satellite coming our way?"

It took Jim a moment to locate the object his friend was referring to, but the second he did, he bounced to his feet and threw a finger skyward. "Fellas! Look there!" he cried with disbelief.

Immediately, Mart was on his toes too. "Jumping Jehoshaphat!" he cried. "It can't be? It's a U.F.O!"

From somewhere off in the shadows, Trixie also heard Dan Mangan mutter, "Far-out…."

But that was the last thing she heard, as everyone, including herself, had suddenly frozen. It was as if time were standing still. The little boys had ceased running. The Bob-Whites had stopped breathing. And even the pair of hunting dogs, who'd dropped to their haunches, sat motionless. And they all, man and beast alike, were staring upward at the glowing light, which was growing brighter and more prominent as it continued to draw near.

And then gradually, Trixie realized they weren't witnessing a single light. Rather three, no make that four lights, and they were all being omitted from one massive triangular craft. One, which was now hovering ominously above their heads.

To Trixie, the giant wedge seemed as ill-boding as it was unfathomable. Her unconscious mind kept questioning what on earth she was looking at? But the only answer her protesting brain could come up with was that this ship, U.F.O, or whatever it was, was nothing of this earth but rather something from a distant planet.

The disbelieving teenager couldn't look away. Mesmerized, she studied the fuselage of the looming giant, which was dark and unreflective, making it nearly invisible against the expanse of space. In each of the vessel's three, pointed corners, however, were what looked to be navigation lights of some sort. And they beamed eerily, with a particle-filled illumination. But it was the pulsating light, seated in the spaceship's belly, which gave the discomforted girl the heebie-jeebies. Like some kind of all-seeing eye, it appeared to be watching them.

Yet, as unsettling as this was, it wasn't what boggled Trixie's mind the most. No, that had to be that the craft made no sound at all - absolutely none. It was almost as if the spaceship was swallowing up all external noise within its paralyzing presence.

All but the silly ringtone, which was coming from Di's pink cellphone that is.

The new incoming call immediately snapped Diana Lynch out of her hypnotic trance. Ripping her violet eyes from the seductive scene unfolding in the sky, she made a mad dash for the "hands-off bowl," which was still sitting on the patio table. Mart hadn't shut down the phone properly -which was a good thing, as far as Di was concerned. She didn't plan to take the call, but she did intend to use the cell's camera. This was one video Jim Frayne couldn't keep her from posting on her See Me page!

Only before Diana could aim the flat rectangular device at the ship looming above her, the craft was gone. The unidentified flying object, in less than a blink of an eye, had zipped away, leaving no trace.

Letting out a forbidden expletive, the frustrated girl threw down the phone and leered venomously at Jim. "I missed it!" she spat furiously. "You and your stupid club rules! Well, you can just take them, Jim Frayne and…."

Honey gasped. What was wrong with her mild-mannered friend?! "Di, there are children here!" she warned, interrupting the livid girl.

Diana immediately stopped her rant. Apparently, she had forgotten. And a dazed look came over her face as her little twin brothers ran up to her, each grabbing one of their big sister's hands.

"It's OK, Sissy," Larry Lynch said softly, looking up at her. "They'll be back."

"You can take pictures of them next time," his brother Terry added serenely.

Trixie glanced up at Mart, and he met her eyes. Yep, this was really happening. And Mart was equally stunned. Only Trixie wasn't sure what was more shocking. The fact that the Bob-Whites had just witnessed a U.F.O? That Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Diana had uttered a curse word? Or that the Lynch lads, with creepy calmness, had noted that everything was "OK" and that whoever "They" were, "They" would be back.

And then it dawned on Trixie, that like Di, she wasn't being a very good big sister. Bobby had to be terrified! Only when she looked around to find her youngest brother, he was back to his old self, chasing lightning bugs with Patch and Reddy, as if nothing had happened?

But it had. And the members of the B.W.G.s didn't know what to do or say.

"Do you think that thing came from Stevens Air Force base?" Brian asked, breaking the uncomfortable hush which had fallen over the group. Trixie's oldest brother always looked for logical answers to the unexplainable. He didn't believe in things like ghosts or little green men.

"Some kind of experimental craft?" Dan asked, shaking his head to clear it.

Jim grunted. "Not one of ours," he said with certainty. "That thing cut out of here way too fast, if you ask me."

Honey, feeling weak-kneed, grabbed Brian's arm. "Maybe it was aliens, come to take over the earth?" she suggested fearfully, once the little boys had run off to play with Bobby.

Trixie felt like snickering. The idea wasn't funny, but it sounded so absurd for some reason. But it didn't mean she hadn't wondered the same thing.

"Naw," Mart replied. "If anything, they're just studying us," he said.

But Trixie could tell, by the absence of big words in her brother's reply, that he was simply trying to comfort his worried female friend. She also sensed that Mart was pretty worried, himself.

"Well, I think I'd feel better if we all went inside," Honey admitted, glancing about nervously. "Shouldn't we tell your parents or something?"

The Bob-Whites agreed, though with mixed emotions, and they were folding up the picnic blankets when they spotted car lights coming down the Belden's tree-lined lane.

As the black and white police car pulled up along the garage, the B.W.G.s, sprinted over to meet it. Climbing out of the vehicle, Spider Webster shut the car door with a slam, which drew Mr. Belden and Mr. Lynch from out of the house.

"Good Evening, Officer," Peter Belden said, coming down the steps, and extending his hand in greeting. "Is there something we can help you with, Sir? My daughter hasn't been sticking her nose in police business again, has she?"

Spider chuckled as he shook Trixie's father's hand, as well as Mr. Lynch's. Then nervously, he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his wavy light brown hair.

"Not this time," the officer admitted, casting Trixie a wink. "Just stopping by to see if you folks have witnessed anything… well…funny, out this way?"

"I take it you don't mean funny as in "haha?", Mr. Belden said darkly, narrowing his eyebrows.

Spider shook his head. "Not exactly," he admitted. "But I suppose it depends on how you look at it. A short time ago, the switchboard down at the station started lighting up with calls. Most of them coming from neighbors, of yours. Been running my feet off ever since. In fact, I just came from Lytell's, and he, like the others, claims he saw a flying saucer or some such nonsense. Silly man is all up in his head about radiation from the thing making his hair fall out."

Trixie covered her mouth so her father wouldn't hear her giggles. As long as she'd known Mr. Lytell, he'd been losing his hair. Brian had once diagnosed it as Male Pattern Baldness compounded by stress. Mr. Lytell was a highly-strung individual, and the littlest things tended to get him all worked up.

Only seeing a U.F.O. wasn't so little.

Mr. Lynch, however, didn't try to hide his amusement. "This afternoon, young James here shot off a model rocket," he informed Spider with a laugh. "I imagine that's the source of your illusive 'flying saucer', Officer Webster."

"People's imaginations do tend to get the better of them when they witness something out of the ordinary," Peter Belden agreed with a slight chuckle.

Only as Spider grinned, Brian bravely stepped forward to set the record straight.

"Actually, Sir," he said to the man in blue. "The Bob-Whites did see an unusual aircraft a short time ago. We were just headed in to tell you about it when Spider pulled up, Dad," he added to his father.

Trixie was glad it was Brian who was doing the talking. If she or Mart had spoken up, the adults wouldn't have taken them seriously. But their older brother wasn't the type to exaggerate. So people respected what he had to say.

"Can you describe the craft?" Spider asked, pulling out his metal clipboard.

Nodding, the oldest Belden boy then gave the officer a clear and precise description. Brian kept to the facts, and this impressed Trixie. She knew her account would have been filled with a lot of conjecture and emotion.

Jotting down notes, the policeman then asked the other B.W.G.s if they had anything else to add.

No one did. Not even Mart. And Trixie suspected this was because they were all still too much in shock.

"At least I'm glad to see you're not overreacting like the rest of the folks around here," Spider concluded. "One of the military bases probably just staged a flyover of some sort. Nothing to worry about, I'm sure. But I'd better be getting on up the hill. Pat in dispatch said Celia Delanoy was practically in hysterics when she called. Tom's in town playing pool, and she hasn't been able to reach him. Johnny's gets pretty loud on Saturday nights. Figure he's got no idea she's trying to call."

Honey looked up at Jim with a start. Celia was the Wheeler's pretty young maid, and Tom, her husband, was the family's chauffeur. The young couple lived in a red trailer, on a small parcel of land behind Manor House. With Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler out of town and their children at the picnic, Tom and Celia had been given the night off.

"Oh dear," Honey said, gathering up her things. "Jim, we'd better be heading home. I didn't think about Celia being out there in the dark, all alone. I should go sit with her until Tom gets in."

Brian reached into his hip pocket for his car keys. "I've got a better idea," he said. "Why don't I run you up to the house in the Jalopy? I'll drop you off at the trailer, Honey. Then Jim and I can head to Sleepyside and try to track down Tom. You don't mind, do you, Dad?"

Mr. Belden had no objections. It was late, but his son was a good driver and a very responsible young man. Besides, the newlyweds were family friends. If Brian hadn't made the offer, Mr. Belden would have.

So after Jim whistled for his glossy pet, the three young people, and one dog, loaded into the Brian's old car and followed Spider Webster up Glen Road toward Manor House.

Shortly after, Diana and her family, as well as Dan, said their goodbyes, leaving the Belden's to finish picking up and call it a night.

The party had come to a close.