Chapter: 10

For Every Action

Lunch that noon was the "Belden Summer Special". Thick slices of beefy red tomatoes topped with cracked black pepper and sandwiched between two pieces of home-style white bread spread with mayo. A simple yet delicious treat; it had been a family standby for generations.

After setting down plates for Moms, Bobby, Mart, and herself, Trixie stuck her head out the backdoor and called for her middle brother, who was out cleaning the chicken coop.

As Mart trudged in and scrubbed up at the deep sink in the mudroom, the telephone hanging on the wall by the fridge began to ring.

Answering it, Trixie's mother let out a gasp and cried, "Oh Peter, no! By the end of this month? Surely you're joking? What will people do for work?"

Pulling out a chair, Mart sat down at the table across from Trixie, who was listening intently to the conversation. Kicking her foot, he mouthed silently, "International Pine, no doubt."

Trixie nodded her head in agreement as Moms hung up and then joined them.

"That was your father on the phone," she told the children. "I'm afraid he won't be able to make your game tonight," she went on to explain to her older son. "He has to stay late for a meeting at the bank. This morning, when people arrived for work at International Pine, there were big 'for sale' signs posted in front of the buildings, and the employees were later informed that the company is relocating. Between this and the U.F.O. sighting the other night, your father says the whole town is in a complete uproar."

Trixie and Mart again exchanged glances.

"Gleeps, Moms," Trixie said quietly. "What a horrible way for people to find out they're losing their jobs." She almost felt guilty for already knowing about the closure.

"I'm just glad your father doesn't work at the factory," her mother breathed, still reeling with disbelief. "Apparently, Mr. Banks has placed the blame on Mr. Wheeler. From what your father's hearing, Matt's cut off the company's supply of timber and is driving them out of town."

Mart rolled his eyes, and Trixie let out a huff. It seemed Mayor Murdock wasn't the only one who'd been lying lately. And although Trixie was pretty unhappy with Mr. Wheeler herself, now all of Sleepyside would be too – and that wouldn't be good for Honey and Jim.

Later that afternoon, as Trixie was tying up her hair in just the fashion Celia had shown her, she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

"You about ready?" Brain called out. "We're supposed to pick up Honey and Dan at Manor House at five. Traffic was horrible this afternoon, and I don't want to be late for the opening pitch."

The hurrying girl's brother had been in a sour mood ever since he'd gotten home from the country club, and Trixie wasn't exactly sure why. Brian wasn't letting on, and she couldn't read him as she could Mart.

Grabbing the digital camera sitting on her bed, Trixie rushed out the door. Mart had asked her to take pictures at the game today. And after he'd given her an hour-long tutorial on how to use its multitude of functions, Trixie knew enough to turn it on, set the dial to "auto", and take a picture. She'd also quickly grasped how to zoom in and out on a subject. That was pretty slick. It was almost like having a spy device, and that appealed to the detective side of her. Mart had also told the inexperienced girl not to be shy about snapping shots, as the camera's memory card would hold hundreds of pictures.

So telling Moms and Bobby goodbye, Trixie let her aftershave-laden brother drag her out the door. Her little brother would have liked to have gone too. In fact, he'd thrown a bit of a fit when Moms had told him no. But with the unrest in Sleepyside, Bob's mother felt it would be best if her youngest child stayed home. She was nervous enough as it was that her older ones were going out.

Nearing the top of the Wheeler's hill, Brian pulled the jalopy off the drive, into the grass, and then shut down its noisy engine. The teens were nowhere near the mansion yet, but their pathway was choked with vacated automobiles. Something was up, and with Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler out of town, it certainly wasn't a social function.

Rushing the rest of the way on foot, Trixie and her concerned brother encountered a mob of upset protesters in front of the house. Most of the people were pacing about carrying picket signs with slogans such as "Just Say Timber", "Cut It Down", and "Pine Stay – Wheeler Go". But a few others were calling out nasty slurs at Regan, who was standing guard on the front veranda with his shotgun in his hands.

Seizing her opportunity, Trixie took a few pictures, but Brian asked her to stop. He didn't want his little sister drawing people's attention needlessly. There was no reason to make them angrier than they already were.

Then, Tom, who stood just to the right of the imposing groom, saw the Belden's approaching. Pulling out his cell phone he placed a call. A moment later, Honey and Dan stepped out the main door, and the wiry chauffeur dashed to escort the leery girl and her more brazen friend through the throng.

Once in the clear of the hissing protesters from International Pine, Tom placed another call, this one to the police station, as he walked the four teenagers to their car. After hanging up, the vexed man explained to the Beldens that Spider Webster had been out once and run the primarily peaceful group off. But they'd returned, and the word was more were coming, and this time with a news crew.

"Best you get out of here while you can," he told Brian, texting Regan to let him know that all was well. "I'm sure this stunt is more for show than anything with Mr. Wheeler in St. Louis. Once the television station wraps things up, I imagine everyone will probably go home. Honey's got instructions to call me before you leave the ballpark, though, so Regan and I can be waiting to greet you when you get back."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay here and help watch things?" Dan asked.

"No, no," Tom said with a smile. "You go kick back. Regan and I will handle the fun here."

"Some fun," Honey said with a shiver. "Daddy never imagined we'd need a security system living in Sleepyside. When we had an apartment in the city, we had a very elaborate one. It was like being in a prison where someone watched you all the time."

The despairing girl paused and shook her head sadly. "I suppose after this, Mother will insist that Daddy gates off the property and has security cameras installed everywhere."

Trixie had to wonder if she and her friends had somehow slipped into the twilight zone. Who would have thought that their relatively carefree lives could change so quickly? And she also had to wonder if there was any going back.

Walking through the turnstile at Washington Irving Field, the four Bob-Whites were stunned to find a bigger than usual turnout. With today's dim announcement that International Pine would be closing, the young people had thought many people would have chosen to stay home. But instead, the bleachers were packed. The locals had turned out in record number to support not only the home team but also their friends and family members who were being affected by the devastating news.

The away team's side of the small stadium was just as overflowing. It seemed Sleepyside's U.F.O. siting had enticed more than a few fans into making the two-hour drive from Glenview. And there were also a pretty good number of tourists there, who just decided to stop in and catch the game.

Trixie and her friends hoped they weren't too late to get seats together. And as they wormed their way through the crowds toward the stands, they became increasingly aware that Honey was being pointed at and talked about. Not because of anything the poor girl had done, but because of the offensives her father was being accused of.

Taking up step next to his intimidated female friend, Brian boldly took Honey's hand. Trixie was glad to see it too. Maybe ole cap'n Brian had a wee bit of that fightin' pirate spirit in him after all – at least when it came to protecting the fair maiden Wheeler, he did.

Only catching sight of Diana chatting with Susie Swanson at the concession stand, Honey smiled up at her swashbuckling sentinel and said, "Brian, would you mind waiting here for me while I run over and try talking to Di?"

Brian agreed but added, "Trixie, why don't you and Dan head on up and try to get us seats near the press box, under the scoreboard. It looks like there are still a few open in section fourteen. Honey and I will join you in a few minutes."

So leaving her best friend in Brian's care, the curly-haired girl and Dan climbed the stairs to the very top of the stands, where they picked out four adjoining spots on the bench. Trixie wished now that she'd thought to bring something to sit on. The metal was white-hot as she sat down, and it burnt the back of her bare legs. At least this high up, the young people got a good breeze, and as the sun dropped, it would begin to cool things down.

Taking the seat next to her, Dan glanced at the squirming teen and gave her a sideways smirk as she noticed.

"Meant to say something yesterday," he stumbled, "But well, the bandana thing's cool. It fits your style, you know?"

Trixie reached up and touched the paisley headband holding her hair back. "You really like it?" she asked.

"Sure. What's not to like?" the bashful boy said with a shrug. Then, changing the subject, he went on, "So I hear your little brothers a celebrity? That the Play-At-Ease jive is pretty far out."

"Well, if you think that's out there, get this," Trixie said as she proceeded to explain how "They" didn't like that the mayor was telling people that the spacecraft the B.W.G.s had seen was a weather balloon. "Honey thinks if Jim and I work together, we can figure out what's going on." she finished. "But I don't know. I don't think I'm smart enough. I don't get that Sir Isaac Newton stuff and what-not."

"Ah, don't sell yourself short," Dan told her. "You're just as smart as Jim, just in a different way. You've heard of street smarts and book smarts, haven't you? Well, there are all kinds of smarts out there. And people learn in different ways too. Guys like Jim and Brian think logically, they like scientific facts, and technical details. Others of us don't deal as well with those kinds of things. Our thinking isn't geared or limited to them."

"OK, but where does Mart fit in?" Trixie asked, spotting her middle brother on the baseball diamond below.

"He doesn't," her champion laughed in reply. "I'm afraid that kook's out there in some bizarre dimension all of his own. But as I was saying, Trix, for you and me, stuff like science doesn't make a lot of sense unless we see it action. What would you say if I told you that you probably already have a pretty good understanding of some of that so called 'Sir Isaac Newton stuff'?"

Trixie removed the lens cap from Mart's camera and hooked it on the strap. Snapping a quick series of shots of her brother choking up on his bat, she said, "I'd say you're crazy."

Giving the doubting girl a shove, Dan replied sarcastically, "I'll have you know I'm the sanest guy around." Then added more seriously, "Really, I mean it, Trix. Take Isaac Newton's Three Laws of Motion…"

"I'd really rather not," she interrupted him glumly. "I thought we came to watch the game?"

Dan told his friend to give him a break. "We can do both at the same time," he told her. "Baseball provides a perfect example of the Three Laws of Motion at work. We'll start with law one, which is the law of inertia."

Trixie let out a big sigh, already feeling lost. "Great," she said. "Which translates too? Remember, I'm not Mart."

"No doubt there," Dan smiled in reply. "But the key to understanding this stuff is kind of like translating Mart. Once you decipher all the fancy words, the meaning behind them is often pretty easy to grasp. Inertia basically means in the state of not moving."

"Hate to tell you, Einstein," Trixie interrupted again, this time shaking her head," but if something isn't moving, then it isn't in motion. I thought these were supposed to be the laws of motion?"

"Yeah, yeah," the boy replied, growing more frustrated. "Bear with me. The first law says that an object at rest will stay at rest until an external force acts upon it. And conversely, if an object is in motion, it will stay in motion unless an external force acts upon it. You do know what a 'force' is, don't you?"

"Sure," Trixie replied with a resigned sigh. "A power that makes things do something, right?"

"Close enough," Dan grinned. "Take a good look at our esteemed pitcher down there. See the ball in his glove? That baseball will stay 'at rest' until Jim picks it up with his other hand and throws it."

"Well duh," Trixie snorted. "And once he does, the ball will stay 'in motion' until the catcher snags it or the ball hits the ground."

Dan gave his student a wallop on her back. "See," he said, laughing. "You already know this Isaac Newton stuff!"

Trixie had to laugh too. "Maybe I do," she admitted, feeling more confident. "Go on, what's law number two?"

"The second law is a little trickier. It states that the greater the object's mass, the more force it takes to accelerate it."

Trixie was starting to get into her lesson. Applying science to sports made it easier and almost fun. "That's not hard to understand at all," she corrected her friend. "If Mart were to hit both a baseball and a heavy bowling ball with his bat, using the same amount of force, the baseball would go a lot further. If he wanted the bowling ball to go as far as the baseball, he'd have to hit it a whole lot harder. That's obvious, isn't it?"

Dan nodded. "Yep. Want to try the third law?"

"Sure!" Trixie exclaimed. "Fire away."

"OK, here it comes, and you've probably heard it before," he said. "The third law says that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I like to think of it as collision," he said, giving her a clue.

Trixie thought for a moment, trying to reason things out. But then she burst into laughter. Mart had just popped a practice high-flyer into left field, and Ted Elroy and Hank Trevor had both gone after it. As the clumsy teens ran into each other, Trixie used them as her example. The action force was the boy's bodies hitting each other, and the reaction force was them tumbling into the grass.

"Well done," Dan told her as she finished. "I hereby dub you a genius."

Trixie blushed. "You're the genius," she said. "You made that easy. I just figured all that stuff was common sense? But there's really science behind it."

"That's right," the street-smart boy replied. "So you keep using that common sense of yours and don't let anyone make you think you're not smart. Especially Frayne," he added very carefully. "You nailed it when you suggested the parachute on his rocket didn't open because of the humidity. Jim was telling Brian and me on the dock yesterday that he called Mr. Handleman, the hobby shop owner who sold him the JF-16 kit. Mr. Handleman told him the same thing you did and suggested that Jim try sprinkling a little cornstarch on the replacement he was ordering."

Trixie grinned and shook her fist in a show of elation. "I knew it!" she laughed happily.

Then, as Honey and Brian came into sight carrying a drink tray, Trixie pursed her lips and whistled loudly, "Bob-White, bob-bob-white! Bob-White, bob-bob-white!" This was their club's secret call.

Echoing it, Brian let his sister know they'd been spotted and that the two were on their way.

As Honey sat down next to her, Trixie asked, "Any luck with Di?"

Jumping back up from the heat of the seat, Honey was sad to report that Diana wouldn't give her the time of day.

Brian, who was passing out the icy beverages which Honey had paid for using her father's credit card, then flattened the emptied cardboard holder before placing it on bleachers for his pretty friend to sit on.

Settling in, the two newcomers inquired how warm-up was going.

"So, so," Dan replied after taking a swig of his soda. "Mart's swinging strong. But Jim's curve is wild, and he's been scorching the dirt a lot. Watch, he's getting ready to wind-up now; you'll see what I mean."

On the infield below, Jim let the red-laced baseball fly. Only this time, he actually hit his catcher, and the stadium filled with loud boos.

"What's the matter, Frayne? Lost your edge? Maybe you should have snuck out of town with that no-good father of yours!"

The loud, mouthy cat-call had come from none other than Miles Murdock, who was seated in the bleachers behind the Comet's bench with a few of his buddies from the Hawks. Jack Turner had suited up for the game, but Miles wasn't playing. He'd told the coach that he'd sprained his wrist, after being attacked by Jim, and would have to sit it out. Only from the way the dirty skunk was horsing around in the stands, Trixie had no doubt it was another of the boy's lies.

Miles may have been handsome and smooth, but he was also proving to be quite deceptive, and that made him dangerous. It was no wonder Di was attracted to him. But in Trixie's eyes, Miles's dark good looks were only skin deep. And she could only hope that one day Diana would see it too.

Jim, meanwhile, was doing his best to ignore Mr. Murdock, as well as the rest of the anti-Wheeler crowd filling the stadium. Snagging the foul ball as the catcher returned it, the boy's face burned with embarrassment and frustration. Trixie hoped Jim would be able to keep his temper in check. The last thing he needed was to get into another fight.

But as the Comet's Ace pitcher prepared to give it another go, Coach Jackson removed Jim from the center mound and pulled him aside.

To get a closer look at the unfolding scene, Trixie zoomed in on the arguing pair using Mart's camera. And what she saw made her gulp.

Mr. Jackson's face was purple with rage, and he was sweating profusely. Having two of his key players at odds did not make him a happy camper. First putting Jim in his place, Coach Jackson then yelled back at Miles to put a sock in it when the rowdy teenager cried out, "it's about time!".

Jim, too, looked pretty worked up and seemed to be trying to explain his poor performance to his coach. At least, Trixie guessed that's what her friend was attempting to do. Though it didn't appear that the boy's mentor was much in the mood to hear it.

Then, as Coach Jackson removed his hat to wipe his brow, Trixie was momentarily blinded by a reflected flash of light. It took her vision a moment to return, but when it did, the stunned girl realized that the paranoid coach had lined his baseball cap with tinfoil!

Pressing down the shutter button on the camera, Trixie giggled knowing that these were the type of shots Mart had been hoping for. And once she'd wrapped up her impromptu photo-shoot, the novice photographer was relieved to find that both Jim and his undercover baked potato head of a coach had calmed down some. But sadly, as Trixie turned off the camera, Jim was sent to the dugout to sit out the game, and Jack Turner was pulled from the bullpen to replace him.

"That's probably for the best," Brian explained as Trixie sat back with a groan. "Jim needs to let his arm heal if he wants to play the rest of the season. Pitching is an unnatural movement for the human body. It puts tremendous stress on the elbow and shoulder joints. I'll run down and talk to him. I want to be sure he knows what's going on back at Manor House, anyway."

"I'd like to go too," Honey said, getting up. "You don't mind, do you, Trixie?"

Trixie didn't, and as her best friend and brother started off, an announcer came over the stadium loudspeaker to advise the socializing spectators that the game was about to begin.

Diana and Susie Swanson, who'd been milling about the stands chatting with some of the other kids from school, now took their seats with the Hawks. Squeezing in next to Miles, Di laughed as the cocky young man whispered something in her ear. When he'd finished, the ever-stylish girl turned and looked up at the Bob-Whites in the stands behind her with a superior look on her face, and Trixie wished she could wipe it right off.

But as the National Anthem began to play, the two snubbed young people took to their feet and placed their hands over their hearts. The Beaver Lodge brass band was preforming today's rendition of the uplifting number, and despite missing a few of the higher notes, the aging group of men did a fine job, and the crowd clapped and cheered as they finished.

Now rushing the field, the players took their places. As the visiting team, the Gators were up to bat first, and after two harrowing runs, it looked like Jack Turner was finally about to retire them.

Jack was nowhere near the pitcher Jim was when he was in top form, but Mr. Turner's son didn't appear any worse for wear from Sunday's fight. Taking the rubber, the sneering young Comet wound up, stepped forward, and then delivered the ball right down the middle toward home plate.

As the hurling projectile dropped, the batter started to swing but then pulled back his bat, sending the ball into the catcher's mitt.

Only his checked swing was horizontal with the front of home plate, and the umpire bellowed, "Strike three! You're out!"

This ended the top of the first inning, and Dan hollered, "It's about time!" mocking Miles Murdock when Jim had been benched.

Mr. Murdock, not one to be toyed with, spun around and gave his antagonist the evil eye. "If you think it's easy, you give it a try, tough boy!" he barked. "Or are you too much a sissy?!"

Trixie could see Dan's posture stiffen. If there was one thing Dan Mangan wasn't, it was a sissy. He may not go out for sports, but the certain girl knew if he did, that the scrappy young man would make one heck of a wrestler. Miles had a better be careful. He didn't know who he was messing with.

"Naw," Dan shouted back, smouldering inside. "Somebody's got to keep the pretty girls company, don't they?!" Next to him, Trixie smiled, score one for team Bob-White.

But Miles wasn't about to be shut down. And as Mart moved into the batter's box, Mr. Murdock hooted at Jim, who was talking with Brian and Honey on the sidelines. "Hey Frayne! It sounds like Mangan's trying to put the moves on that dust mop lady friend of yours!"

Trixie didn't need Mart's camera to see Jim was bristling. Of course she was too, but as the red-headed boy cast an eye her way, Dan replied to Miles, "Not my style, Slime-ball! A real guy doesn't steal a buddy's girl!"

This time, Miles was so enraged that he stood up on the bleachers to face his sharp-witted opponent. And as he did, Trixie snapped a couple of pictures for Mart's scrapbook. This was Miles Murdock at his ugliest.

"You know what they say, Punk," Miles fumed casting out a finger on his so called injured hand. "All's fair in love and war!"

Trixie swallowed hard, as Mart's face snapped away from the pitcher and focused for a brief instant on his one-time friend. And in that moment, her stomach clenched up tight. While her middle brother watched, Miles retook his seat and then arrogantly slipped his arm around Di's shoulder.

"Then I guess this is war," Trixie heard Dan declare quietly.

And as the first fastball was sent rocketing Mart's way, her beefy brother slugged it clear to the stars!