Author Notes:

If anyone is interested in editing this for me, I'd be glad for the help. This is currently self-edited, which I'm not particularly comfortable with.

Also, I don't own Trixie Belden or any of the characters. Just having fun.

Ch. 2

Trixie fluffed her hair impatiently in the mirror, using her fingers to tame the curls as best as she could. She had learned long ago that taking a brush to it was a dangerous game, especially when she only had a few minutes to get presentable. Still, it was hard to get it to lay the way she wanted with just her fingers. Then again, she admitted, it was just hard to get it the way she wanted – period.

She gave up on the hair but eyed herself critically in the mirror. "Well," she muttered to herself. "I guess this is as good as it gets." The bathroom door was open, and Mart barged in. He pushed beside Trixie to grab a bottle of aftershave from the medicine cabinet. She ignored him, straightening her sweater.

He splashed a small amount across his neck. "You look fine," he informed her, reaching to put the bottle back where it belonged. Trixie turned to him, eyes wide in surprise and frustration. "What is the matter with you?" she exploded.

"What?" he replied, confused and wary. He took a step back, not understanding her irritation but instinctively wanting to be far from it. Trixie, and her hands, could be a little overzealous – especially when she was annoyed.

"You!" she exclaimed loudly. "You! You've been weird all week. Since when would you look at me getting ready and not make a crack? You say things like that I could pass for human, to someone who is shortsighted and lost their glasses." She poked him, jabbing her finger into the space just under his clavicle. "Or that I look different when they let me out of the gorilla cage. You DON'T say that I look fine. Weird!" she yelled, a bit hysterically, poking him again.

"Ow," he muttered, realizing he should have backed up further. "This is why we keep you in the cage."

"See?!" she replied, waving her arms in annoyance. He flinched, leaning back to not get hit again.

"Relax, Trixie," he began, trying to keep his voice calm. "While I'm used to your rather inflated flights of fancy, we do have another event to focus on at the moment. If your memory has failed to retain the information, let me remind you that today, company will be joining us for the celebration of the annual commemoration of your arrival onto the realm collectively hosting all of us presently. Such a celebration may be a bit over-exaggerated. Inflated, perhaps, as it was through no special skill or feat of your own. It is, however, a tradition. As your wiser and more sophisticated elder, I know that the maternal and paternal bearers would frown upon my provocation of you before company. As such, I simply elected to behave as, according to the famous colloquial phrase, the bigger person. Which, despite the current situation of our similar birth age, I clearly am –both literally and metaphorically."

Trixie stared at him blankly for a moment, then huffed. She wasn't entirely certain what he said, but she recognized enough of it to get the gist. She pulled herself up to her full height, which wasn't much. Trixie, however, had an uncanny way of seeming like the biggest person in the room when she wanted to be.

Mart, as if to prove how effectively Trixie could use her body language, shrank down a bit, his shoulders slumping as she tried to tower over him. She didn't, of course, but to anyone watching the scene, they'd almost believe that she did.

"Oh, just stuff it, Martin Belden. You are being weird," she challenged, poking him for a third and last time. "I don't know what you are up to. But I will find out," she asserted threateningly. "I promise you that." She stared at him for a moment, effectively continuing the threat wordlessly.

"You always do," Mart muttered back, looking unsure of himself. She eyed him, circling around him as she left the bathroom. It was a primal ordeal and Trixie had clearly alpha-d him. He waited for her to turn away, then called sarcastically. "Happy birthday, dear pet."

She whipped her head around glaring, but he felt moderately satisfied. At least he had gotten the last word. Still, he grimly wondered how long until she kept her promise. She would, eventually, find his secret. He had no doubt of that.

Trixie paced across the porch, waiting for Dan, Honey, and Jim. From inside the kitchen, she could hear her mother and Di preparing dinner. She knew Jim had come home early that afternoon, as the students at Columbia had been given the day off. Friday was assigned as a "prep" day for finals, which began Monday.

Honey had gone home after school, to meet her brother. After they got ready, they would come to the farm. Brian had stayed at school, being less willing than Jim to give up his study time. Di had come home with Trixie, promising to help Mrs. Belden with dinner so that Trixie would have more time for her guests. Though Trixie was grateful (and it was certainly generous), Trixie also knew that Di enjoyed cooking and rarely got to do so in her own house. This was a gift she was happy to give Trixie.

She had also done her best to help Trixie get ready before. She had picked out a nice sweater and a jean skirt for Trixie to wear and swept her hair up to the side with some sort of a strange, fashionable comb. That was as far as Trixie was willing to go, though Di had tried to coax her into lipstick. Still, she did look nice – even Trixie had to admit it.

Now if only Jim thinks so flitted across her mind, but Trixie immediately banished the thought. She heard Mart in the kitchen and realized after a moment that he was helping with the food as well. She hadn't been surprised that Di offered – but she was incredibly surprised that Mart did. For a moment, she felt a little guilty about her intimidation tactics in the bathroom earlier. Maybe he really did just want to be nice.

She shook her head. No way. He was up to something.

Just then, she heard a familiar whistle as Dan cut around the side of the porch. He popped into view a minute later. "Hey, Trix," he greeted easily.

"Dan!" she called, hurrying down the stairs to meet him. "I gotta question for you. What's Mart up to?" she asked bluntly.

He blinked at her in surprise for a moment, then rubbed his forehead. "Boy, Trix, you really just get right into it. What do you mean?"

She shrugged, taking his elbow and bringing him up the stairs to the porch swing. Once they were seated, she whispered conspiratorially. "I don't know, exactly," she admitted. "He's just been acting strange. Strange like when you do something wrong. Like you know you're about to get in trouble for something, so you're on your best behavior. He's too nice. He's pleasant." She narrowed her eyes at Dan pointedly. "He's not Mart."

Dan just laughed. "I think the rest of us would say Mart is just fine, but I know what you mean." He shrugged. "Sorry, Trix, I really don't have any idea. He didn't say anything to me." He cocked his head to one side, thinking about it. "Could he be failing?" he wondered aloud, quietly, glancing to the screen door as if to make sure Mart couldn't hear him.

Trixie pondered this for a moment. "Maybe," she said in a dubious whisper. She knew that she was more likely to fail than Mart, but she supposed it wasn't impossible. "His grades were fine at mid-term, though. And he didn't start studying a bunch like you would if you expected to fail and were trying to get your grades up. His work didn't really change at all…" her voice trailed off as she thought it over.

Dan's head popped up, as Honey came up the stairs. "Hi, Honey," she greeted, then looked around. She realized that Jim had stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, and was eyeing her and Dan. Dan stood up, suddenly, making an abrupt end to the conversation. Instead, he crossed to the other side of the steps, leaning on the railing. "Hey man," he said. "How's it going? How was the drive?"

His voice was distinctively friendly – almost too bright, Trixie thought – but his arms were folded defensively. She didn't know what to make of the body language. But it began to occur to her that she didn't really care.

Jim was there, at the bottom of the steps. And he looked…good. Really good, she thought to herself. Older, somehow. Had it really only been about a month since she had seen him on spring break? "Fine," Jim replied. But his eyes were locked on hers.

It tingled through her, a weird sizzle like when you licked a 9-volt battery, uncomfortable but interesting. Of course, she imagined ladies like Di would call it something fancy like butterflies. "Jim," she practically shouted, running down the steps at him. Somewhere on the way down, she tripped a little, moving faster than her own feet. She didn't fall, but it turned her pace into something more like a charge. She had her arms open to give him a hug, but instead, it was a tackle.

"Ooof," Jim exclaimed, knocked off balance for a moment. "All right, all right. Good game" he teased, squeezing her into a tight hug. He lightened after a moment, backing up, but didn't drop his arms entirely.

"Oh, I get 20 questions, and he gets that?" Dan protested good-naturedly. Trixie considered shooting him a death glare, but she had no desire to break eye contact with Jim. Instead, she was satisfied when Honey smacked him in the ribs.

If Jim heard, he seemed to ignore it. "I guess you didn't forget me." His voice sounded as though he was joking, and he smiled. But his eyes on her were somehow serious, even intense.

It was a strange feeling, almost like being underwater and holding your breath. She couldn't decide if she liked it or not. Trixie became flustered and took a step away, unprepared and self-conscious with a large audience. "Of course not," she replied lightly, trying to keep her voice as easy as his. "Jack, right?"

Jim clutched at his heart, mimicking a stab wound. "Ugh." Then, changing tack, he straightened upright. He flashed that crooked grin he had, that always made Trixie feel like she had swallowed a rock and it was sinking in her stomach. Sometimes she couldn't fathom how Honey and Di were so eager for romance – anything that even slightly resembled it had a strange way of making her just feel nauseous.

Grinning at her, he quirked an eyebrow. "Watch it, Trix. Don't let Mart hear you whispering sweet nothings like that."

She turned bright red. She could almost imagine that she heard Dan roll his eyes. She had no doubt that she heard him sigh, loudly. "Foreplay," he complained. "Let's go, Honey. Whatever happens next is not for our innocent eyes." She turned to glare at Dan, to see that true to his word, he had covered Honey's eyes with his hand. With the other hand, he was pulling her by the arm back to the safety of the house, in a dramatic fashion. Honey giggled but allowed herself to be led away.

"Big talk for someone who probably has the herp," she muttered, loudly enough for Dan's benefit. Dan had an active dating life, and he made no attempts to hide it. While Trixie didn't think he was quite as active as he sometimes implied, she didn't mind using it against him when the opportunity came up.

"I heard that!" Dan retorted, stopping suddenly. "That's a terrible thing to say about your best friend, you know. Poor Honey."

Honey straightened up suddenly, elbowing Dan again in the stomach. "Hey!" she protested. "Leave me out of it." With his hands now off her, and shielding himself, she pushed past him into the house. Dan grinned as he followed her. "C'mon baby. You know I didn't mean it," they could hear him tease as he followed behind her.

Trixie shook her head, momentarily distracted from her annoyance at Jim. "Why do I know so many idiots?" she wondered grimly out loud. The thought spurred her on, however, reminding her that the conversation had begun with one idiot in particular.

"You!" she wheeled on Jim. He immediately put his hands up in an implicit surrender, used to her chaotic shifts. "I wouldn't whisper sweet nothings to you if you were the last man alive, so cut it out!"

Jim paused for a moment, thinking it over. "That's true," he finally agreed pleasantly. "You probably wouldn't." Then he took a step closer, and his next words felt like a challenge. "But I'm not the last man alive, and I still don't think that you're whispering them to anyone else." He stared at her intently, as if daring her to respond.

On the spot, Trixie flushed again. Where was Di when she needed her? Di always knew how to reply to things like this, cute and flirty and sexy. Trixie, on the other hand, was easily goaded into being snarky and, well, unsexy. No wonder it was taking her and Jim so long to get anywhere.

Even now, a part of her wanted to make it clear to Jim – no! No, there is no one else! But the stronger, louder, bossy part of her brain felt trapped – admitting that was too much like giving him some sort of upper hand.

Boy, she was bad at this. Really, really bad. For maybe the 417th time, she wondered how anyone had ever fallen for her pretend crush on Honey's cousin Ben all those years ago. She didn't even know how to have a real crush.

It hit her, just then, that was her out. An answer, without an answer. "That's just because Ben isn't here," she replied coolly. Flipping her hair, she turned and began walking into the house dismissively. Jim groaned behind her but followed. He reached over her to grab the screen door as she pulled it open. Holding it politely for her to enter, he simply commented, "Well, that's his loss, then."

She pretended she didn't hear him, but secretly, she was dying inside. When had Jim ever gotten so bold? Was she overthinking it? Was Di right? She hurried into the living room, squeezing Honey's arm as she walked past. Honey looked up at her, eyebrows raised practically to her forehead.

Oh. My. God. Honey mouthed the words at her, not making an actual sound.

I KNOW. Trixie mimed back silently.

Honey glanced around the room, to see if anyone else was watching. She leaned closer to Trixie, her eyes bulging out in an unspoken question. Trixie, reading her mind, shrugged helplessly. That wasn't enough for Honey, who cocked her head to the other side and pursed her lips. Trixie eyed her back, and Honey shook her head. Just then, Dan crossed the room toward them. They both straightened up trying to act casual. "Shut up, shut up, shut up," Trixie muttered.

"What is this, Gossip Girl?" he hissed at them both. "Did you figure out what Mart's up to?" Jim, overhearing, joined the group. "What's Mart up to?" he asked curiously.

"Wait, Mart?" Honey echoed in confusion.

Trixie turned to Dan. She was glad for the change of topic, anyway, but that didn't stop her from blurting out, "Oh, look what you started!"

"Me?" Dan said incredulously. "I started it?"

"Yes! No!" Trixie shouted back impatiently. "I don't know. Mart's acting weird." She dropped her voice lower, looking over her shoulder to make sure Mart wasn't nearby.

"Well, weird how?" Honey asked, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Like today, just before you guys got here. I was getting ready and he said that I look nice."

All three of them looked slowly back and forth at each other, then to Trixie. Finally, Jim spoke.

"Uh…what?"

"He said I look nice," she repeated.

"Just playing devil's advocate here, but, you know, maybe you look nice. It does happen," Dan offered.

"See, right there!" Trixie insisted. "That's what I mean!"

"Okay," Jim sighed. "I'm not going to say what again. But you should know that I'm thinking it."

"No, just listen. That's the thing. Mart would say something smart aleck like that. Like 'Oh, look at that, it looks almost human when you put a dress on it.'"

Honey nodded, suddenly serious. "She's right, actually. Just last week at lunch he said that he didn't know you could eat tuna when you already have a fish brain. And remember Cow Appreciation Day?"

Trixie shuddered but pushed the memory aside. She had a point to prove. "Exactly!" Trixie crowed, triumphantly. She crossed the room to glance into the kitchen, watching for Mart. He and Diana were nowhere to be seen, and she continued speaking.

"I don't know what he's up to, I just know he's up to something. He's acting strange – strange for Mart. It's like he feels guilty about something so he's trying to be a kiss-up. Remember when Bobby sprayed my perfume that Moms gave me? He dumped the bottle all over, then he decided to make more. Cause he figured if he fixed it, no one would get mad."

"Uck, yeah," Honey wrinkled her nose in disgust. "When you opened that bottle after he 'fixed' it, it smelled like someone had tried to wash a skunk with a moldy sponge."

"No," Dan corrected her. "It smelled like someone let a pumpkin rot in the sun, then filled the whole thing with old fish."

"It smelled like when Reddy ate one of Bobby's old baby diapers, then yakked the whole thing up," Trixie informed them matter-of-factly.

Jim just stared at them; an eyebrow quirked in disbelief. Dan saw his doubtful expression and nodded sagely. "She's right," he agreed. "That's exactly what that would have smelled like." Honey did a heart-crossing motion, then held up three fingers like in the Boy Scout oath.

Trixie leaned closer and whispered loudly, "It smelled so bad Moms thought it wasn't real. Like, it was easier to believe it was all in her head than to think Bobby had discovered the smell of Satan's unflushed toilet bowl. She even took a pregnancy test. I guess she always thought normal things smelled really bad when she was pregnant."

Jim was at a loss for words for a while. Finally, he just mumbled, "I guess I'm glad I was at school." The others nodded their firm agreement.

Trixie shook her head. "Focus, lamebrains. Well, not you Honey," she modified the first statement. Honey gave a short curtsy, tipping her head in Trixie's direction.

Dan and Jim, both seemingly unconcerned with being lamebrains, just looked at each other and then her. "What?" Jim asked.

"I don't know!" she retorted, crossing the room again to check, once more, for Mart. She returned to the group, continuing her thought from earlier. "Just keep your eyes, and your ears, open. Let me know if you find anything out. He's up to something. And, if it means he's being nice to me, I better find out what. Like right now, where is he, and what is he doing?"

Dan just shrugged. "I dunno, Trix. I'll keep an eye out though."

Trixie, barely listening, was still pondering her previous question. Just where was Mart? Wasn't it strange that the others would have finished their work in the kitchen, and dinner was now cooking in the oven? Yet Mart was nowhere to be seen, even though all of his closest friends were gathered in this very room.

Jim eyed her suspiciously. "What are you thinking, Trix?" he asked. "Nothing, really, yet" she replied slowly, still thinking it over. Suddenly, her face brightened a bit.

Jim knew Trixie well, and he knew her looks. Warily, he pointed out, "Oh no. That's your idea face. You have idea face. What is it?"

"It's just that-" Trixie began, but stopped abruptly when Dan nudged her foot. "Abort, abort, abort," he muttered as Mart came into the room. Honey started laughing, suddenly, a random diversion tactic that was admittedly brilliant. "Oh, Jim, college classes can't all be like that," she chuckled.

Trixie stared for a moment in surprise, then sent Honey one last telepathic message for the night.

Honey, you're an evil genius, she told her with her eyes.

I know, right? Honey's reply was clear as a bell, if only to Trixie.

The girls were gathered around Honey's bedroom that Sunday. Jim had already left to return to school. He and Brian would finish their finals throughout that week, then both return home the following weekend.

Di laid across the floor on her back, her feet propped up against Honey's bedframe. Honey lay across the bed. She had a magazine in front of her but was paying it no attention. Everyone, instead, was focused on what Trixie had to say. It was the first time the girls had been alone since the birthday dinner, and the scene between Trixie and Jim had yet to be thoroughly discussed and analyzed, as only three teenage girls could do.

Trixie, also on the bed, flopped over onto her back, with her head hanging upside down off the bed. Her short curly hair cascaded across the side of the blankets.

"Then we came in. So that's it," Trixie sighed in frustration.

Di blinked a few times, slowly, trying to follow. Sometimes Trixie wasn't the best storyteller, and she couldn't figure out if the problem was her understanding or Trixie's narration. "What do you mean?" she asked. "How is that it?"

Trixie threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know, it just is," she declared. "He shows up, says some stuff, it sounded like flirting. I mean, it did, right Honey?"

"If that's what he said, that's definitely flirting," Di confirmed. She was hearing it for the first time from Trixie, but in her mind, it was unquestionable.

"That's definitely what he said," Honey confirmed. "I was there for most of it. But I'm with Di, how is that it? You both went off together later," she pointed out. "You were out on the porch for like half an hour," she reminded her, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "What happened then?"

Trixie glared at her. "He gave me my birthday present. And, no, it wasn't like THAT," she denied quickly. "Do you know what he got me?" she demanded. "Do you?"

"Obviously not, Trixie," Di replied calmly.

Trixie jumped up from the bed suddenly, pacing the room. "You guys got into my head," she complained. "You said all this stuff about him, about how he had all these questions and he wanted to know if I was dating, and I mean, he did say those things. But you got it all twisted around. It was just questions, you guys. The same questions you could ask any old friend. How are you, what have you been doing, are you keeping busy, are you dating, what else is new?" she parroted. "You made up your minds what the intent was behind the questions, and I believed it. That's just bad detective work, Di. I know better than that now. You didn't establish the intent, you just assumed you knew. His intent, for the record, was just to talk to me. To make conversation. Now I look like an idiot!"

Di sat up, staring. "How do you know that?" she asked her. "How do you know it wasn't intended to flirt with you?"

Trixie suddenly stopped her circles around the room and shot Di a dirty look. "He gave me my present." She paused, then covered her face with her hands, and moaned, "It was a car safety kit."

Di and Honey shot each other a look, both looking a bit guilty. Had they really led their friend astray? "That's…. that's not great," Honey admitted.

Di rubbed her forehead, looking down at the floor. "Oh, Trixie, I'm sorry," she sighed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I jumped to conclusions. I mean, that's not exactly the most romantic gift," she conceded.

Trixie sank back onto the bed, shaking her head. "Oh, it's all right, Di. Jumping to conclusions is usually my job," she admitted. "I guess it's time I let someone else have a turn." She picked up a pillow, hugging it to herself. "Besides, it's not that bad. I mean, I didn't tell him I loved him or something crazy. I'll live." She sighed again, looking pensive.

Di watched Trixie, feeling horrible. Her friend's feelings were hurt, and it was all her fault. Well, maybe not all her fault. Jim was the one who got her a stupid car kit. Only Jim would decide that a 16-year-old girl needed to prepare for a car-based emergency.

It was the sort of thing she could picture her father buying – and even then, she doubted it would be referred to as a present. Something he wanted to be sure she had, sure, but not in place of a gift. The absurdity of it all began to hit Di, and she couldn't help but laugh.

She covered her mouth, looking at Trixie in horror. "Trixie, I'm sorry. I really am, I'm so sorry." Her eyes were filled with regret, but she kept laughing. The more she tried not to, the harder it was to hold it in. She wiped a tear of laughter from her eyes, half expecting Trixie to storm out of the room. "I just…I mean, Jim…. a car safety kit?"

Honey started to laugh then, too, as the absurdity of it hit her. "He's a moron," she giggled. "He's an honest, certifiable moron." She reached for a tissue on her nightstand, but slid off the bed, overcome. "How can someone be smart enough to do two years of school in one, but dumb enough to give their girlfriend a gift like that?"

Di snorted, which only made Honey dissolve further into her hysterical laughter. "You guys, I'm not his girlfriend," Trixie complained, though her lips had begun twitching into a smile. She kept trying to fight it down, but it was contagious. Soon, she was rolling on the bed in full, gasping laughter like the other two. Occasionally, one would start to settle down. Then someone would mutter "car safety kit" or "moron genius" and all three would lose it, yet again.

Amid nearly manic laughter, Trixie knew she would always be grateful for her friends. Even when she was feeling low, or after an event like this that should really sting – somehow, with her friends, it always seemed a bit more manageable.

Besides, who wanted a "certifiable moron" for a boyfriend anyway?

By the next weekend, the Bob-Whites had officially regathered. Brian and Jim had finished their finals and returned to Sleepyside for the summer. The younger five would not be released from the clutches of high school for well over a month. This meant that -at least to begin- collecting the recently scattered Bob-Whites back together was pretty easy. While many of them would have jobs and other activities later in the summer, at this point, it was a transition time – and they had time in spades.

As a result, the gang all gathered at the Manor house that Saturday – the boys' first full day home. They began with a leisurely horse ride. It was fun, having everyone together for the first time in what felt like ages. But Trixie couldn't help but think that it felt a bit awkward as well. She was ready to act like "one of the guys," to treat Jim like the pal he wanted to be. And she didn't expect it to be hard. Maybe it shouldn't have been.

But weird things kept happening. Like she couldn't find the curry comb when she needed it, and Jim finally found it on the floor, which made it look like she had dropped it and wasn't even paying attention. She knew she hadn't, but it didn't stop Mart from teasing her. Luckily, Di shot him a glare that quieted him down pretty fast.

Or the way it felt like she kept getting pushed up too close to him. It was hard to explain, as Trixie knew sometimes it could get crowded in the stables. And it had been a long time since such a large group had been there. Maybe they had just lost the art of all squeezing into the space – it was practically choreographed and they hadn't been practicing.

Still, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but somehow, it felt like she kept getting blocked into weird corners and trapped against walls – always in a way that led to her and Jim doing that weird "I want to be here, you want to be there, uh oh" dance that people do. She laughed it off, but after the fourth time, she just felt awkward and clumsy.

By the time they went inside the house for dinner, and Trixie conveniently was railroaded into a seat next to Jim, she was officially suspicious. At dinner, Di managed to keep working the strangest non-sequiturs into the conversation.

Trixie had to give her credit; it was certainly graceful. She had no idea how easily you could slip in so many sentences that went "You know what I just found out, Trixie likes this random thing no one was talking about, at all. Oh, you do too, Jim? That's crazy!" And Di did it so nonchalantly that no one – no one – seemed to notice. But Trixie did, and at this point, it was clear that her discomfort was not in her head. At one point, she kicked Di under the table, shooting her a look that clearly said knock it off.

Diana had the grace to at least look sheepish, and she stopped peppering the conversation with her version of aggressive warfare. Trixie breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was done. The rest of the dinner and dessert was relatively comfortable and fun.

Unfortunately, Trixie quickly realized she let her guard down too soon when the gang moved into an entertainment room in the Manor house for a movie. Not only did Di try to coerce them into a horror movie, but she even managed to finagle it so that Trix and Jim were sitting together on a small love seat.

Honey was protesting the scary movie – of course Honey didn't want that. Honey hated scary movies, and Trixie could feel her own temper flaring. It rose, higher and higher, until Trixie had enough. Bright red, she stood abruptly and grabbed both Honey and Di by the arms. "Brian, you just go ahead and pick something without us. Whatever you boys want will be fine, we picked last movie night anyway," Trixie lied easily. She had no idea who had picked last time. At the moment, she was too angry to even remember back that far. "We, uh, we forgot the popcorn," she continued. "Help me, girls – we'll be right back."

Dan looked at her like she had three heads, and by that point, she wouldn't have been surprised if she did. "We just ate a huge Manor House-sized meal, and then we had dessert," he reminded her. "I think we can hold off on popcorn."

"Now, wait just a minute, Daniel. Popcorn is a traditional part of the ambiance and entertainment expected when one partakes in a movie. To some, the cultural tradition and acceptance of norms such as popcorn is as significant a part of the experience as the actual cinematic experience," Mart waxed theatrically. Then, bluntly, he finished, "To wit, I could go for some popcorn."

Already annoyed, Trixie looked at him in disgust. "Of course you could," she retorted crabbily. His face instantly took a confused look. Hadn't Trixie literally just offered him popcorn? He was used to her random moods, but really? Was this what they called a bait and switch?

Realizing her mistake, Trixie just sighed. "Fine, Mart. We're going. We'll get the popcorn." She practically dragged both Honey and Di out of the room behind her.

Honey knew enough to hold her questions. Trixie's attitude made it clear that she wasn't going to take no for an answer, and Honey didn't mind following her lead. Still, as soon as the door closed behind them, she yanked her arm away, rubbing the sleeve as if to make sure Trixie hadn't stretched the material. "What is going on?" she grumbled. "You know I wasn't going to watch a movie about some weird little demon girl trapped in a mirror. I have mirrors. I use mirrors. I like mirrors," she stressed.

"Not you, Honey," Trixie replied impatiently. "This one! Frickin' Yente the Matchmaker over here," she grumbled, gesticulating her head angrily in Diana's direction.

Diana, as though admitting her guilt, continued to allow Trixie to hold her by the arm. Sheepishly, her head was down, looking at the floor while they continued walking to the staff kitchen.

"Sorry, Trixie," she admitted quietly. "I am, honest. I thought I was helping you," she explained. Trixie finally dropped her arm, as they had to go single file to fit into the kitchen doorway.

Once inside, Honey started rummaging for the popcorn maker. Trixie, meanwhile, leaned against a counter, arms up in the air in a gesture of disbelief. "Helping me?!" she cried incredulously. "If that's your help, Di, I don't want it!" She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Trixie," Di echoed, tears springing into her eyes. "I don't know. It seemed like a good idea until now," she admitted. "I read this article about how to make your crush like you. Jim's your crush, and you want him to like you, so I want him to like you, so I just tried doing the article. I thought I was doing a good thing," she insisted.

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Then find better things to read, Di." She sighed. "I get it, okay? It's just stupid. Like, the dumbest thing ever. Not that YOU are dumb," she amended quickly, knowing that Di could be sensitive. "But even if you CAN trick someone into liking you, it doesn't mean you should. I'm me. Jim likes me, or he doesn't, but I don't want to trick him into thinking he does if he doesn't. I would rather just find someone that likes me because they like me than someone who likes me because you made them."

She looked Di straight in the eye, trying to make her understand. Di could be like a dog with a bone, and she needed her to drop this if she ever expected a moment of peace ever again. Considering they were co-presidents of the BWGs, it would probably be necessary, at some point, to at least be able to exist in a room with Jim. Which was even more reason to get Di to cease and desist.

"My parents have been married for, like, 20 years," she informed her. "So yours are probably about that long too. Do you – really, honestly - think that they stayed married for 20 years because Moms makes sure to remind Daddy every now and then that they both like putting milk over rice? Do you actually think that if you just keep telling Jim about stuff that we have in common, he's going to be brainwashed and suddenly go, My God, I must marry this woman, immediately?!" She asked her, her voice rising as she went. "Let's cut to the chase. We'll just tie him up and make him spend the weekend trapped in a room with me, then he can't resist. I mean, sure, some people would call it Stockholm Syndrome, but beggars can't be choosers, right?" she finished sarcastically.

Di looked at the ground again, embarrassed. "When you put it that way, Trixie, you're right. I'm sorry," she repeated for the third time. Trixie just sighed, again. "It's hard to keep arguing with you when you agree with everything I say," she admitted with a grin.

"So you're done being mad at me? I promise I'll stop," Di readily agreed. Di could be stubborn, but she was also incredibly sensitive and empathetic. It wasn't hard for her to see Trixie's point of view.

Honey had been listening while they talked, even while completing the task of making popcorn. She had missed most of whatever had occurred that night – honestly, little had stood out to her as being out of place. But the gist of their conversation allowed her to connect enough dots to understand the basics of the argument, and to bring a few strange moments of the evening to mind.

"Don't worry, Trixie," she informed her gently. "I doubt Jim even noticed. I hadn't," she admitted. "Until I heard you talking about it, I hadn't even seen what was happening. And we all know the boys are a bit thick, by default," she joked, sprinkling salt across the bowl of popcorn. She handed some bowls to Di, and a few extra sodas to Trixie. Grabbing the bowl, she announced, "Now, let's go see what movie those thick-headed boys are going to make us watch tonight."

Trixie shook her head. "I'm just going to die if it's that stupid one where the guy is in that place that looks like a bar but then he's actually next to that goat the whole time," she admitted in annoyance. "It would be like the fifth time Dan made us watch it."

Dan and Trixie were waiting at the kitchen table at Crabapple Farm. Trixie had cornered him on the way home from school, determined to finally get to the bottom of whatever it was that Mart was up to. Dan didn't seem anywhere near as concerned- or nosy - as Trixie. However, an elaborate plan to annoy Mart seemed like it was worth doing, if only as its own reward.

Plus, Trixie would probably just harass him endlessly until he helped. And that was how he found himself agreeing to pretend to get off the bus at the Manor House like usual, then sneaking over to the farm for Trixie's elaborate ambush. Mart had mysteriously disappeared every afternoon that week. He vanished as soon as he got off the bus, turning back up after about an hour. When questioned, he had vague explanations about a chore or job that had needed to be done.

Dan had just finished listening to her outline her plan. He blinked at her in confusion. "How do you ask a question three times?"

"You ask for the same information, three different ways," she tried to explain. "Like if you ask him where he was, and he says the library. So later you ask him about the library, and you ask him the last time he saw the librarian. It's not super obvious that you're asking him the same question, but it's still about the same thing."

Dan nodded. "So you're trying to catch him lying."

"No," she shook her head. "No, it's not about lying. You're just seeing how he answers."

He stared again. "Okay," he finally said slowly. "So you're asking him a question, to find out the truth, except it doesn't matter if he gives you the truth or not. Right."

She sighed. "It's not that you're trying to trick him into giving you the truth. It's more just the first step. If his answer seems scripted, like he's got a cover story, then you know that you're onto something. We have to find the cover before we can try to figure out WHAT he's covering up. Get it?"

He pursed his lips, head cocked to the side. "Actually, yeah," he replied, sounding surprised. "That's actually a good point."

"Of course it is," she exclaimed loudly. "Why would you doubt me?" He shot her a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised, that clearly indicated he felt no remorse for his lack of faith.

Mart shuffled in the backdoor, stopping to untie his shoes. Hearing the door shut, Trixie quickly shoved Dan into position. He was supposed to sit in the corner, observing without drawing much attention to himself. Trixie intended to be the one baiting Mart, while Dan would pretend to study. Dan could observe Mart for changes in his behavior or body language, without making it obvious to Mart.

She pushed him into position, roughly, and he sputtered as her first caught his rib. "Easy, King Kong," he muttered. She flicked him in the forehead with a look of exasperation, but then focused on the task at hand.

Coming in through the breezeway, Mart tried to walk straight through the kitchen and upstairs without making eye contact. As a result, he hadn't even noticed Dan's presence yet.

Trixie turned in her chair, facing away from Mart for dramatic effect. Slowly, she announced in a mysterious, almost intimidating tone, "Good afternoon, Mart."

At this moment, she spun in her chair, eyeing him. Her face was blank, but her body language was borderline aggressive, leaning toward him. Mart froze, and she took the opportunity to claim the upper hand.

She stood, deliberate and slow, but kept her eyes on Mart. When she was certain he was watching her, she walked across the room to stand in the doorway. This, effectively, blocked him from his goal of the stairs. She lifted her arms, taking up as much space in the door frame as her small height would allow.

Dan's eyes shot up so high he thought his eyebrows might actually touch the ceiling. He had, of course, agreed to help Trixie. But clearly, he had no idea just what was about to happen. This almost felt like a bad dinner theater production.

Mart rubbed the back of his neck, clearly feeling a trap snapping shut. "Good afternoon," he echoed slowly, warily. Trixie was silent, waiting to see if he would say anything else. Finally, clearly uncomfortable, Mart added, "…Did you need something?"

"Hmm," she murmured, noncommittally. "Have a seat, Mart." She waited until he did, then crossed the room toward him silently. Dan felt himself shiver, though he would have denied it. He had no idea what was happening here, but he was absolutely under its captivating spell. It was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing he had ever been part of.

And he loved it.

She perched on the edge of the table, which left her with a continued height advantage over Mart. "You've been busy after school every day," she said calmly. "Must have a lot going on. I can't remember the last time you've had so much work to do."

Mart shrugged. "I guess." He said nothing else, but Trixie used the same trick – she simply stared at him, silently, for a beat. Then, nodding her head as though she was listening, she wordlessly encouraged him to continue.

And he did. Dan couldn't believe this was working. "Not work," he amended. "It's not really that I'm working. Just, you know, stuff to get done. Odds and ends."

She raised an eyebrow, nodding again. "Right, right. Stuff. A lot of stuff though, right?" she asked with fake sincerity. "Must be hard having so many people asking you for help. I mean, if you had more time, think of all the things you could be doing." She paused, eyeing him up. "What would you be doing, Mart?"

Dan tented his fingers, evil Bond villain style. "Yes, Mart," he intoned in a slow, dramatic fashion. "What would you be doing?" Trixie shot him an irritated glance, not appreciating his meddling in what she considered a genuine interrogation attempt.

Just then, Mrs. Belden entered the kitchen, crossing into the pantry. "Trixie, dear, don't sit on the table," she called behind her as she left. "Sorry, Moms," Trixie replied sheepishly, her tough-guy act suddenly deflated.

Taking the opportunity for escape, Mart shrugged in annoyance. "I feel like you're making a big deal about it. It's not like I fell down a well, okay? I had some stuff to get done." He stood up abruptly, clearly indicating his dismissal of the topic. Marching to the doorway and out of the room, Dan couldn't help but notice that he never looked back. Dan would have expected a snarky comment or at least a dirty look, but he was intent on creating as much distance between him and them as possible.

"He really is up to something," Dan wondered out loud, suddenly genuinely curious. Trixie leaned over the table and smacked his shoulder. "You idiot! I almost had him, then you make the whole thing a joke! You totally killed my authority!"

"Me?!" Dan refuted. "You were the one acting out Reservoir Dogs. I was half afraid you were about to pull out a can of gasoline, Ms. Blonde."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Hey, I want answers. When you're a professional, you do what needs to be done."

He shook his head. "You know the craziest part is that I've known you long enough to know this is just your standard, level 1, Wednesday afternoon psycho."

She grinned at him. "Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet, Danno."

"Get him Di," Trixie shrieked. Mart was currently doing a strange-looking salsa step across the grass at Crabapple Farm, holding a ball. Di needed to wrestle the ball away from Mart before he managed to reach a bucket at the edge of the yard. Trixie was in the penalty box and couldn't tackle Mart herself, or she would have. Of course, she was in the penalty box for tackling Jim in the first place.

If, however, Di and Honey were successful, the girls and boys team would be tied in their latest round of "Bob White Bucket Ball," a mostly nonsensical game they had invented the summer before. Diana gingerly reached around Mart, trying to grab the ball. He lurched from one side to another, playing keep away. Di finally put her arms straight out and rushed him, making it hard for him to continue moving forward.

He hesitated, apparently unwilling to be too aggressive toward Diana. Finally, he picked her up around the waist, lifted her, spun her around behind him, and took off. Di squealed in protest. But the basket had already been made before she could retaliate, leaving the boys as the official winners. Mart did a wild, bizarre victory dance that started as the running man, before evolving into some sort of chicken head bob and ending with the robot. The other boys joined in, gloating good-naturedly, while Trixie scowled.

"You could have had the ball, Di," she said in exasperation. "It was right there! It's a ball, not a bomb!"

Di looked around at the scene, finally locking eyes with Mart. He must have read her mind and, saving her, abruptly stopped his celebration. "Us menfolk shall initiate the process of preparing the upcoming comestibles, beginning, of course, with the standard chemical combustion. Dan, would you deign to do the honors while I collect the necessary accompaniments and accoutrements inside?"

Dan grabbed the lighter off the picnic table, clearly indicating his agreement. The group had gathered at Crabapple Farm this week for a Sunday picnic. The girls had prepared most of the food inside earlier. They would make a salad while the boys grilled the burgers, but for now, there was no rush.

"Jim, let's get the jalopy done now," Brian suggested. He had asked Jim earlier if he minded giving him a hand with his car. Even though Brian was home for summer break, he had accepted a job earlier in the year in the city. He was working two days a week as a medical scribe, a job that he had to continue year-round.

Luckily, the hospital that he worked at allowed him to schedule his 2 weekly shifts on back-to-back days, usually Tuesday and Wednesday. It made for a tiring few days every week but did allow him to have freedom the rest of the summer, so for Brian, it seemed pretty ideal. He didn't mind working hard or being up late, and he knew it would only be worse in medical school.

However, it did mean that he had to wake up early on Tuesday, drive to White Plains to catch a train into the city, work his first shift, spend the night in the city, do another 12-hour shift the next day, and finally, take a train in order to get home around midnight on Wednesday.

He needed his car in good working order to make it to White Plains Tuesday, and the fuel filter was clogging. Responsible Brian knew that was a problem that might keep him stuck at home, or worse, stranded in White Plains Wednesday night with a car that wouldn't start. He was too level-headed to ignore it, wanting it fixed immediately. Jim had agreed readily to lend a hand, though he didn't know as much about cars about Brian. Jim, at the very least, was handy enough to hold Brian's flashlight – and he had a lot of experience in that area.

Trixie and Honey claimed spots at the picnic table while Di went to help Mart carry the grilling tools out from the kitchen. Dan quickly took care of preparing and lighting the grill while the girls chatted. Then he, too, ran into the house. He thought he was going to wash his hands before handling food. It was a logical, sensible next step.

But instead, what he saw turned his world upside down. He burst into the kitchen from the breezeway, heading for the sink, and stopped abruptly.

Had he died? Was this hell? His jaw dropped open wordlessly.

Mart had Di pushed up against the counter, and they were kissing. Kissing might have been too gentle of a word. Too austere for the horrifying scene that Dan was probably going to have nightmares about. Maybe for the rest of his life.

"What are you two doing?" he hissed.

Mart turned around, eyes wide and horrified. Di turned bright red.

There was a deafening silence until Di finally squeaked out, "We're practicing for a play?"