A few minutes later, Bella and her companions arrived at the front door of a
small, pastel-green house.
"My friend's name is Tricia Cornwall," said Bella, ringing the doorbell. "I call her Trixie, or Trix for short. She's cool, but a little weird. You'll like her."
Shortly thereafter the door opened, and a freckled, bespectacled eight-year-old girl with curly red hair poked her head out. "Hi, Bella," she said with what sounded vaguely like a New York accent.
"Hey, Trix," said Bella cheerfully. "My friends need a place to stay for the night. Think you can help?"
Trix adjusted her glasses and carefully scrutinized Buster, Francine, Muffy, Brain, and Fern, mumbling quietly to herself. Finally she spoke loud enough to be heard, and her voice had a haughty tone.
"Your friends look suspiciously similar to the characters from that children's show that you like so much."
"Well, yeah," said Bella. "They're wearing the costumes for our school play."
Trix mumbled to herself for a second or two. "A bit childish, wouldn't you say, to wander around the neighborhood at night wearing animal costumes?"
"It's actually quite logical," Brain spoke up. "Wearing our costumes night and day helps us to lose ourselves in our characters, thus facilitating a more convincing theatrical performance."
Trix mumbled again; she seemed to be repeating parts of what Brain had just said. Then she opened the front door all the way.
"I like you," she said to Brain, and then turned to Bella. "You and your friends are welcome to enter. I'll do my best to secure boarding for the night. We have ample space on our living room floor, if you don't object to sleeping on blankets."
"Thanks a lot, Trix," said Bella as she walked through the door, followed by her friends. "Some day I'll return the favor."
"You have a week," said Trix coldly.
The inside of the house was unlike anything the Elwood kids had ever seen. In one corner was a huge glass sculpture that resembled tangled strands of spaghetti; in another there was a plaster facsimile of Rodin's "The Thinker". On the walls hung reprints of paintings by such artists as Mondriaan and Pollock, alongside posters of authors like Kafka, Beckett, and Kerouac. The furniture was contemporary in design, and on one side of the living room sat a large-screen TV. A couple, apparently Trix's parents, sat on the couch, whose arms made unusual angles.
"Mom, Dad," announced Trix, "some of my friends have come over. They'd like to spend the night."
Her mother, a slim woman with hair like Trix's but much shorter, turned her head and smiled slightly. "That's fine, Tricia."
Her father looked curiously at the visitors. He was a mostly bald, slightly overweight man who wore horn-rimmed prescription glasses. "Why are they wearing costumes?" he asked Trix.
"We've been rehearsing for the school play," Francine explained.
"Trix has some cool stuff she'd like to show you all," said Bella. She and Trix led Buster, Francine, Muffy, and Brain into Trix's bedroom; Fern, however, was distracted by a sound that she thought was familiar. She followed it into one of the other rooms.
As she expected, it was the sound of clinking weights.
She had entered a room that resembled a full-blown fitness center. A treadmill and recumbent bike machine stood on one end, with various forms of weight-lifting equipment filling the remainder. A twelve-year-old red-haired boy, dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt, was working out on the bench press machine. A portable MP3 player was attached to his belt, and a headset pumped loud rock music directly into his ears.
When he saw Fern looking at him, his eyes widened with surprise. He quickly lowered the weights, sat up, and removed his headset.
"Whoa, Trix," he said, grinning. "You really gave me a start there. What's with the dog costume?"
"I'm not Trix," Fern explained. "My name's...uh...Elizabeth. I'm a friend of Bella's."
"Oh, yeah," said the boy. "I'm Trix's brother, Gary. So why the costume?"
"We're rehearsing for a school play," Fern answered. "It's based on the Arthur TV show. You know about that show, right?"
"My parents don't let me watch cartoons." Gary stood up, grabbed a towel hanging from the machine next to him, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Fern started to speak bashfully. "Do you...uh...mind if I..."
"What?" said Gary, leaning over.
"I'd...uh...like to do a little weightlifting, if it's not too much to ask."
"Go ahead," said Gary as he pushed a button on his MP3 player to deactivate it. "But I think you should change out of that costume first. Otherwise you'll get all hot and sweaty."
"I won't be at it for that long," Fern lied.
"Whatever." Gary started to leave the fitness room. "I'll go see what Trix is up to."
As he left, Fern reached into the bench press machine, pulled out the pin, and adjusted the weight to 100 pounds. Then she lowered herself onto the platform and grasped the handles.
To her surprise, she lifted the weight with hardly any effort.
She increased the weight to 200 pounds. Once again, she easily lifted it. She found 300 pounds to be only slightly more strenuous. She adjusted the weight to its maximum, 500 pounds, and lifted it with a modest amount of effort.
Not feeling fatigued in the slightest, she leaped from the bench press platform and walked over to the treadmill. "Interesting," she said to herself. "Maybe Buster's got a point."
Gary came into Trix's room as she was preparing to show Buster, Francine, Brain, and Muffy some of the items she had collected over the course of her family's travels.
"My dad is the world expert on traveling economically," said Trix as she opened a glass case to pull out some knick-knacks. "Whatever extra money he makes on the lecture circuit, he puts into a travel account. We go on four trips per year."
"Have you shown them the hopping ghost yet?" asked Gary.
"I'll do that one first," said Trix. "Now, I'm fascinated with world cultures, especially when it comes to beliefs in the supernatural. I spent a week in China last year, and among the things I brought home with me was...this."
She held up a six-inch statue of a pale-looking man with outstretched arms, dressed in a Chinese robe and cap. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his fingernails grotesquely elongated.
"Cool," said Buster. "Is that a hopping ghost?"
"Yes, it is." Trix carefully handed the figurine to Buster. "It's believed among rural Chinese in some areas that a person who is improperly buried may come back as a hopping ghost."
"It's like a zombie," Francine remarked as Buster handed the statue to her.
"Exactly," said Trix. "They hop around because their joints are stiff from rigor mortis. If they get their hands around your neck, they can strangle the life out of you."
Muffy grimaced with displeasure. "Eww! And I thought Sue Ellen had some weird stuff."
"I want to be a writer some day," said Trix. "I'm putting together some ideas for an anthology of ghost stories from different cultures. My mom and dad think it's all quite silly."
"Well, it is," said Brain. "Those things are superstitions. They don't really exist."
"That's not what I mean," Trix clarified. "They think my book idea is silly. I know hopping ghosts and vampires aren't real, but it's no more harmful to read and write about them than it is to watch a TV show about talking aardvarks."
As the evening progressed, Trix showed Bella's friends her collection of African vampire memorabilia, some figures of the Vircolac, or Romanian werewolf, and various other intriguing items.
At about ten o'clock, Mrs. Cornwall laid down some blankets and pillows on the living room floor. Bella changed into the pajamas that Trix had loaned her, then poked her head into the fitness room to see Fern running, with great speed, on the treadmill.
"You coming to bed, Fern?" she asked.
"Go ahead without me," said Fern without turning her head or breaking her stride.
Bella closed the door to the fitness room, lay down on one of the blankets, and observed that Francine, Muffy, Buster, and Brain were walking around, still dressed in their day clothes. "Do any of you need something to sleep in?" she asked them.
"Seeing that Gary has nothing that would fit me," said Brain logically, "and that Trix is a girl, therefore, I'll sleep in what I'm wearing, thank you."
"Same here," said Buster.
"I've seen Trix's footy pajamas," said Muffy haughtily.
"If the rest of you can sleep in your clothes," said Francine, "I guess I can, too."
"Does anybody need to use the bathroom?" asked Bella.
Brain, Muffy, Francine, and Buster looked at each other, then shook their heads.
"Well, then, let's hit the hay," said Bella, pulling a blanket over her.
Muffy watched as Brain lay down on the blanket next to Bella. "You two behave yourselves, okay?" she said facetiously.
"I assure you, our relationship is strictly platonic," said Brain.
"What's platonic?" asked Francine, lying down on another blanket.
"I think it means radioactive," said Buster.
Soon Bella, Francine, Muffy, Buster, and Brain were all lying down, covered with blankets. There was, however, one thing they had overlooked...
"Isn't anybody going to turn off the light?" Muffy complained.
"Ask your servant to do it," said Francine.
"How rude," said Muffy. Turning on her side, she quickly dozed off to the faint whine of the treadmill in the fitness room.
----
It seemed that no time passed at all before the rays of the sun poked through the blinds, waking up the sleeping children one by one.
Bella sat up, yawned, and stretched. Muffy, Francine, Brain, and Buster rose to their feet effortlessly, with no sign of drowsiness.
"I think that was the most refreshing sleep I've ever had," Brain remarked.
"So," asked Francine as she brushed out the wrinkles in her shirt, "when are we heading back to the police station?"
"They said they'd have the information at about noon," said Brain.
Muffy looked around, surprised. "Where's Fern?"
Buster craned his ear. The high-pitched treadmill whine was still emanating from the fitness room. "She's exercising again."
He opened the door to the fitness room and walked inside. As he expected, Fern was running speedily along on the treadmill, still wearing her street clothes. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't sweating or breathing heavily, two things that always happened to Buster about ten seconds into any exercise routine he attempted.
Then he glanced at the readings on the treadmill panel...and almost fell backwards with shock.
The speed setting was 15 miles per hour.
Fern had run more than 100 miles...
(To be continued...)
"My friend's name is Tricia Cornwall," said Bella, ringing the doorbell. "I call her Trixie, or Trix for short. She's cool, but a little weird. You'll like her."
Shortly thereafter the door opened, and a freckled, bespectacled eight-year-old girl with curly red hair poked her head out. "Hi, Bella," she said with what sounded vaguely like a New York accent.
"Hey, Trix," said Bella cheerfully. "My friends need a place to stay for the night. Think you can help?"
Trix adjusted her glasses and carefully scrutinized Buster, Francine, Muffy, Brain, and Fern, mumbling quietly to herself. Finally she spoke loud enough to be heard, and her voice had a haughty tone.
"Your friends look suspiciously similar to the characters from that children's show that you like so much."
"Well, yeah," said Bella. "They're wearing the costumes for our school play."
Trix mumbled to herself for a second or two. "A bit childish, wouldn't you say, to wander around the neighborhood at night wearing animal costumes?"
"It's actually quite logical," Brain spoke up. "Wearing our costumes night and day helps us to lose ourselves in our characters, thus facilitating a more convincing theatrical performance."
Trix mumbled again; she seemed to be repeating parts of what Brain had just said. Then she opened the front door all the way.
"I like you," she said to Brain, and then turned to Bella. "You and your friends are welcome to enter. I'll do my best to secure boarding for the night. We have ample space on our living room floor, if you don't object to sleeping on blankets."
"Thanks a lot, Trix," said Bella as she walked through the door, followed by her friends. "Some day I'll return the favor."
"You have a week," said Trix coldly.
The inside of the house was unlike anything the Elwood kids had ever seen. In one corner was a huge glass sculpture that resembled tangled strands of spaghetti; in another there was a plaster facsimile of Rodin's "The Thinker". On the walls hung reprints of paintings by such artists as Mondriaan and Pollock, alongside posters of authors like Kafka, Beckett, and Kerouac. The furniture was contemporary in design, and on one side of the living room sat a large-screen TV. A couple, apparently Trix's parents, sat on the couch, whose arms made unusual angles.
"Mom, Dad," announced Trix, "some of my friends have come over. They'd like to spend the night."
Her mother, a slim woman with hair like Trix's but much shorter, turned her head and smiled slightly. "That's fine, Tricia."
Her father looked curiously at the visitors. He was a mostly bald, slightly overweight man who wore horn-rimmed prescription glasses. "Why are they wearing costumes?" he asked Trix.
"We've been rehearsing for the school play," Francine explained.
"Trix has some cool stuff she'd like to show you all," said Bella. She and Trix led Buster, Francine, Muffy, and Brain into Trix's bedroom; Fern, however, was distracted by a sound that she thought was familiar. She followed it into one of the other rooms.
As she expected, it was the sound of clinking weights.
She had entered a room that resembled a full-blown fitness center. A treadmill and recumbent bike machine stood on one end, with various forms of weight-lifting equipment filling the remainder. A twelve-year-old red-haired boy, dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt, was working out on the bench press machine. A portable MP3 player was attached to his belt, and a headset pumped loud rock music directly into his ears.
When he saw Fern looking at him, his eyes widened with surprise. He quickly lowered the weights, sat up, and removed his headset.
"Whoa, Trix," he said, grinning. "You really gave me a start there. What's with the dog costume?"
"I'm not Trix," Fern explained. "My name's...uh...Elizabeth. I'm a friend of Bella's."
"Oh, yeah," said the boy. "I'm Trix's brother, Gary. So why the costume?"
"We're rehearsing for a school play," Fern answered. "It's based on the Arthur TV show. You know about that show, right?"
"My parents don't let me watch cartoons." Gary stood up, grabbed a towel hanging from the machine next to him, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Fern started to speak bashfully. "Do you...uh...mind if I..."
"What?" said Gary, leaning over.
"I'd...uh...like to do a little weightlifting, if it's not too much to ask."
"Go ahead," said Gary as he pushed a button on his MP3 player to deactivate it. "But I think you should change out of that costume first. Otherwise you'll get all hot and sweaty."
"I won't be at it for that long," Fern lied.
"Whatever." Gary started to leave the fitness room. "I'll go see what Trix is up to."
As he left, Fern reached into the bench press machine, pulled out the pin, and adjusted the weight to 100 pounds. Then she lowered herself onto the platform and grasped the handles.
To her surprise, she lifted the weight with hardly any effort.
She increased the weight to 200 pounds. Once again, she easily lifted it. She found 300 pounds to be only slightly more strenuous. She adjusted the weight to its maximum, 500 pounds, and lifted it with a modest amount of effort.
Not feeling fatigued in the slightest, she leaped from the bench press platform and walked over to the treadmill. "Interesting," she said to herself. "Maybe Buster's got a point."
Gary came into Trix's room as she was preparing to show Buster, Francine, Brain, and Muffy some of the items she had collected over the course of her family's travels.
"My dad is the world expert on traveling economically," said Trix as she opened a glass case to pull out some knick-knacks. "Whatever extra money he makes on the lecture circuit, he puts into a travel account. We go on four trips per year."
"Have you shown them the hopping ghost yet?" asked Gary.
"I'll do that one first," said Trix. "Now, I'm fascinated with world cultures, especially when it comes to beliefs in the supernatural. I spent a week in China last year, and among the things I brought home with me was...this."
She held up a six-inch statue of a pale-looking man with outstretched arms, dressed in a Chinese robe and cap. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his fingernails grotesquely elongated.
"Cool," said Buster. "Is that a hopping ghost?"
"Yes, it is." Trix carefully handed the figurine to Buster. "It's believed among rural Chinese in some areas that a person who is improperly buried may come back as a hopping ghost."
"It's like a zombie," Francine remarked as Buster handed the statue to her.
"Exactly," said Trix. "They hop around because their joints are stiff from rigor mortis. If they get their hands around your neck, they can strangle the life out of you."
Muffy grimaced with displeasure. "Eww! And I thought Sue Ellen had some weird stuff."
"I want to be a writer some day," said Trix. "I'm putting together some ideas for an anthology of ghost stories from different cultures. My mom and dad think it's all quite silly."
"Well, it is," said Brain. "Those things are superstitions. They don't really exist."
"That's not what I mean," Trix clarified. "They think my book idea is silly. I know hopping ghosts and vampires aren't real, but it's no more harmful to read and write about them than it is to watch a TV show about talking aardvarks."
As the evening progressed, Trix showed Bella's friends her collection of African vampire memorabilia, some figures of the Vircolac, or Romanian werewolf, and various other intriguing items.
At about ten o'clock, Mrs. Cornwall laid down some blankets and pillows on the living room floor. Bella changed into the pajamas that Trix had loaned her, then poked her head into the fitness room to see Fern running, with great speed, on the treadmill.
"You coming to bed, Fern?" she asked.
"Go ahead without me," said Fern without turning her head or breaking her stride.
Bella closed the door to the fitness room, lay down on one of the blankets, and observed that Francine, Muffy, Buster, and Brain were walking around, still dressed in their day clothes. "Do any of you need something to sleep in?" she asked them.
"Seeing that Gary has nothing that would fit me," said Brain logically, "and that Trix is a girl, therefore, I'll sleep in what I'm wearing, thank you."
"Same here," said Buster.
"I've seen Trix's footy pajamas," said Muffy haughtily.
"If the rest of you can sleep in your clothes," said Francine, "I guess I can, too."
"Does anybody need to use the bathroom?" asked Bella.
Brain, Muffy, Francine, and Buster looked at each other, then shook their heads.
"Well, then, let's hit the hay," said Bella, pulling a blanket over her.
Muffy watched as Brain lay down on the blanket next to Bella. "You two behave yourselves, okay?" she said facetiously.
"I assure you, our relationship is strictly platonic," said Brain.
"What's platonic?" asked Francine, lying down on another blanket.
"I think it means radioactive," said Buster.
Soon Bella, Francine, Muffy, Buster, and Brain were all lying down, covered with blankets. There was, however, one thing they had overlooked...
"Isn't anybody going to turn off the light?" Muffy complained.
"Ask your servant to do it," said Francine.
"How rude," said Muffy. Turning on her side, she quickly dozed off to the faint whine of the treadmill in the fitness room.
----
It seemed that no time passed at all before the rays of the sun poked through the blinds, waking up the sleeping children one by one.
Bella sat up, yawned, and stretched. Muffy, Francine, Brain, and Buster rose to their feet effortlessly, with no sign of drowsiness.
"I think that was the most refreshing sleep I've ever had," Brain remarked.
"So," asked Francine as she brushed out the wrinkles in her shirt, "when are we heading back to the police station?"
"They said they'd have the information at about noon," said Brain.
Muffy looked around, surprised. "Where's Fern?"
Buster craned his ear. The high-pitched treadmill whine was still emanating from the fitness room. "She's exercising again."
He opened the door to the fitness room and walked inside. As he expected, Fern was running speedily along on the treadmill, still wearing her street clothes. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't sweating or breathing heavily, two things that always happened to Buster about ten seconds into any exercise routine he attempted.
Then he glanced at the readings on the treadmill panel...and almost fell backwards with shock.
The speed setting was 15 miles per hour.
Fern had run more than 100 miles...
(To be continued...)