Group Writing Project #2
Author’s note: I started this before the Great Guy Wars. Look, I’m just playing here and mean no offense to anyone! (See, my eyes are twinkling and my tongue is in my cheek!)
THE SECRET OF THE SHRUNKEN HEAD
By April
"Oh, Honey, I’ve lost my head!" wailed Trixie Belden as she flung open the door to let her best friend into the cozy kitchen of Crabapple Farm.
"What glad tidings befall mine ears?" asked a voice from the refrigerator. Mart peered over the fridge door at his sister and wiggled his sandy eyebrows. "Alas, the evidence before mine orbs indicates quite the contrary. ’Tis a pity!"
"’Tis a pity," sniffed Trixie, "that some people cut their hair so short they’re all ears! Come on, Honey, let’s go where we can have a little privacy!" She grabbed her bewildered friend by the hand and pulled her into the den.
"What do you mean you’ve lost your head?" Honey asked as Trixie slid the pocket door closed.
"Mortimer – I’ve lost Mortimer!" Trixie groaned.
"Oh, no, not your shrunken head!" gasped Honey.
Trixie nodded sadly. "I searched the entire house, but I can’t find it anywhere."
"You know, Trixie, I don’t know why you keep that hideous thing anyway. It’s so creepy, it gives me the shivers just thinking about it! Ugh!" Honey wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
Trixie shrugged. "I just think it’s neat," she explained. "It’s not real - that would be disgusting. It’s only made of goat’s skin, handcrafted in Ecuador. It goes with my collection of, uh, unusual things from around the world."
"An ugly statue with a blinking eye, a fierce Chinese dragon box and a horrible shrunken head." Honey shuddered. "Really, Trixie, you like the strangest things!"
"Oh, I wouldn’t call you that strange." Trixie grinned. Honey swatted her lightly and giggled. Sobering, Trixie said, "Now that we know the thing’s cursed, though, we really have to find it – and soon."
"It has a strange power, but I wouldn’t call it cursed."
Trixie grimaced. "Believe me, it’s cursed! Anyway, the last time I’m positive I had it was Wednesday when I took it to school. Nick Roberts wanted to sketch it for a report he was doing."
"Well, let’s think back to what we did on Wednesday," Honey suggested. "Maybe Nick forgot to give it back?"
"No," Trixie said firmly, "I remember he gave it back before Civics class. Sergeant Molinson was there to give us a lecture on ‘Police and the Community’. Molinson glared at me so often I could hardly wait to escape at the bell, but in my hurry I tripped and dropped Mortimer. It was really strange, Honey. When Molinson bent down to pick it up, he was doing his ‘now-what-are-you-up-to-Miss-Belden routine’, but when he gave Mortie to me, he winked and grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat!"
"Uh-oh," whispered Honey.
"I know!" Trixie moaned. "Wait a minute, I remember we still had it because we didn’t realize it was cursed until we went to Mr. Lytell’s that afternoon!"
"Well, you should never have let Mr. Lytell touch Mortimer," Honey pointed out. "I don’t know why you brought it to the store in the first place."
"Jeepers," sighed Trixie, "I was just trying to scare him a little for being such a grouch the last time I’d asked him to stock strawberry soda. I never dreamt he’d like a shrunken head! That’s the last time I’m positive I had Mortimer."
"Well," suggested Honey, "why don’t we go get the horses and retrace our ride to Mr. Lytell’s?"
"Um, will Reagan be at the stables?" Trixie hesitated and shifted from one foot to the other.
"Of course, silly! He’s always…" Honey’s eyes widened and she gasped. "Oh, no! Not Reagan, too?"
Trixie nodded miserably. "When we were getting the saddles, he picked Mortie up to get a better look."
"I wondered why he insisted on cleaning your tack for you when we got back," Honey said thoughtfully. "Well, if we’re going to get back before the BWG meeting later, we’d better get cracking!"
As the girls were leaving the den, the phone rang. Trixie picked it up. "Hello?" She paused then her face turned red. "Listen, if you’ve got something to say, spit it out!" She waited then slammed the phone down. "Let’s get this over with," she said through gritted teeth.
"Well, if it isn’t my spunky little friend, Trixie Belden!" Reagan, the redheaded groom grinned down at the squirming girl. "I was sure you’d be by since it’s Saturday. Look, sweetie, I’ve got something special for you!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the workbench. It was covered with red tissue paper origami animals.
Trixie’s jaw dropped and she looked helplessly over at Honey, then up at Reagan, who was smiling tenderly at her. "I made them for you last night while I was watching the wrestling matches," he explained softly.
He’s got way too much time on his big freckled hands, Trixie thought as she backed slowly away. "Gee, thanks, Reagan," she said aloud. "Do you mind if I, uh, leave them there 'til we get back from our ride?"
"Anything you want, Trix!" he grinned again and swung the saddle onto Susie for her.
"Golly, that was so weird, Trixie!" Honey shook her head in disbelief. They’d retraced the trails they’d taken Wednesday to Mr. Lytell’s store in stunned silence, scanning each step for any sign of the shrunken head. They were coming out of the woods to Glen Road. "I couldn’t believe it when you told him you’d lost Mortimer and he insisted on searching every saddle bag like his life depended on it! But when he lifted you up onto Susie, I--I thought I’d die!"
"You thought you’d die!" snorted Trixie. "Gleeps, I wish I had! He should keep his big freckled hands on his own hips!" She reigned in Susie, checked the road for traffic before crossing, then groaned out loud as she spotted the police car coming up Glen Road. "Oh, ginger! Someone put me out of my misery!"
The squad car stopped in front of them and sure enough, Sergeant Molinson opened the door and stepped out. "Well, hello there, Toots!" Molinson flashed a toothy grin as he put a muddy boot up on the doorsill, took his hat off and leaned his arm on his knee. "What’s Sleepyside’s prettiest sleuth up to today?"
"Just going to the store, Sergeant," mumbled Trixie as she tried not to stare at the bald spot on the top of his head.
"Please, call me Wendell, little darlin’," he drawled and winked at her.
AAACCCKK! Little darlin’? thought Trixie as she struggled to suppress the hysterical laughter bubbling up inside. Who does he think he is--Elvis Presley? Maybe if I fling myself off Susie, I could hit my head hard and knock myself out…nah, he’d only pick me up and rush me to the hospital. She shuddered at the thought of the sergeant’s arms around her. Oh why didn’t this writer update me so I could threaten him with harassment and have him sent to sensitivity training? She looked desperately over at Honey, her round blue eyes silently pleading for help.
"Um, it’s getting rather late, Sergeant Molinson," Honey said sweetly. "If you’ll please excuse us, we need to go to the store, get home and curry the horses before dark."
"Yes, well, Trixie," he said reluctantly, " I just wanted to tell you that we’ve got a new batch of wanted bulletins over at the station. Come over anytime and I’ll show them to you." Molinson straightened up and put his hat back on. "You be careful now, little darlin’, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything at all."
"Thank you very much," Trixie drawled back, doing her own Elvis imitation.
The girls watched him drive off, then looked at each other and burst into laughter. They laughed so hard they could barely stay in their saddles as they rode on to Mr. Lytell’s store. Dismounting, they wiped their eyes and tried to compose themselves, but every time they looked at each other, they screamed "Wendell!" and laughed some more. They were leaning up against each other, gasping for breath when Mr. Lytell appeared at the door, peering over his spectacles at the spectacle before him.
"Honey Wheeler, what have you done to poor Trixie Belden!" he demanded angrily. He held out his arms to Trixie. "Don’t cry, dear," he said soothingly, "whatever it is, I’m here."
"I-it’s n-nothing," Trixie stammered and quickly stepped backwards, "we were j-just laughing. I’m f-fine! Really!"
Rather disappointed, Mr. Lytell dropped his arms to his side and looked at Trixie reproachfully. "I called you this afternoon and you hung up on me!"
Surprised, Trixie shook her short, sandy curls. "I don’t remember you calling," she began, then suddenly looked at Mr. Lytell in horror. "The phone call with the heavy breathing! That was you?" She stamped her foot and yelled furiously, "Jumpin' Jeepers Jehoshapat, you old goat - you should be ashamed of yourself! When I tell Dad and my brothers and Jim and Dan …"
Mr. Lytell made a bleating sound and waved his hands frantically. "No, no! Trixie, dear, it wasn’t like that at all! I’d just carried in six cases of strawberry soda and wanted to tell you right away, but I couldn’t catch my breath before you hung up!"
"Oh…sorry," Trixie murmured. "Look, Mr. Lytell, we just came to see if I left my shrunken head here the other day."
"No, dear, I saw you put it back in your saddlebag." He gave her a wounded look, then sighed and pushed his spectacles back up his nose. " Come in and have a strawberry soda--on the house." He smiled.
Trixie’s eyes widened with surprise. The smile made him look even more like an old billy goat! No wonder he never smiles, thought Trixie.
Once again, Honey came to the rescue, "That’s very kind of you, Mr. Lytell, but we have to get back, thank you anyway."
Mr. Lytell reached into the pocket of his shop apron and pulled out two peppermint sticks. "Well, at least take these for the ride home, dear."
Honey nudged Trixie with her elbow and Trixie accepted the candy. "Um, thanks, Mr. Lytell."
"Well, what's next?" Honey asked as she followed Trixie into the house. "We’ve looked practically everywhere you’ve been for the past three days."
"Hi, Honey!" Brian looked up from the skeleton he was studying and grinned. "I know--most families keep theirs in the closet. Hey Trix, you sure got a lot of mail today! Being the practically perfect big brother that I am, I delivered it to your room for you."
"Thanks, Brian! Trixie grabbed Honey’s hand and they ran upstairs. On her bed were several letters and a big manila envelope. Saving the big one for last, Trixie quickly read through the letters. They were love letters from Ned Schulz, Bob Hubbell, Tad Webster, Spider Webster and Peter Kimball.
"Golly, golly, golly!" exclaimed Honey. "How did this happen? They never touched Mortimer!"
Trixie clutched her short curls, leaned back and smacked her head against the bedpost. "Darn this stupid curse! I wish I’d never laid eyes on that shrunken head! Remember, the pictures you took of me with Mortimer?" Honey nodded. "I sent them to Ned, Bob, Tad and Peter. Spider must have picked up Tad’s. What am I going to do, now?" she groaned.
"Wire them and tell them to tear up the pictures! Oh, Trixie," Honey wailed, "it is a curse!"
"You’re telling me! I used to think it’d be neat to have guys falling at my feet," Trixie cried. "I hate it!" Suddenly she sat up. "Pictures! Camera!"
"What?"
"Remember I borrowed Bobby’s camera so we could take the pictures? Since he was gone with Moms, I didn’t ask him first, maybe he found out!" With renewed hope, Trixie bounced off the bed. "We never searched his tree house!"
Honey jumped up, sending the manila envelope to the floor. Noticing it was from Nick Roberts, she picked it up and handed it to Trixie, who rolled her eyes. "Okay, let’s see who I am today." Since Wednesday, Nick had been leaving love letters with colored drawings of "Trixie as…" in her locker. So far, she’d been Juliet, Queen Guenevere, and Gidget. Today’s drawing was of Trixie as…Cleopatra.
Trixie sighed as she stuffed it under her bed with the other letters and drawings. If Mart ever got his hands on these… She grinned at Honey and bent her arms and hands out and back Egyptian style. Honey giggled, did the same and followed Trixie as they walked sideways down the stairs.
The girls surveyed the odd collection of junk in Bobby’s tree house: marbles, bones, bottle caps, feathers, rocks, coins, a baseball, a slingshot, a bankbook, a yo-yo, Trixie’s camera, several books, eye of newt, and a voodoo doll, but no shrunken head.
"Gosh, no wonder I couldn’t find my own camera!" Trixie muttered. She snatched it up, spilling a few books onto the floor. She was about to shove them back onto the pile when the titles caught her eye. "Honey, listen to this!" she gasped and read the titles aloud. "Revenge 101, A Thousand Ways To Get Even, Rule The Roost, and Get Your Own Way - Every Day!"
"But, Trixie, Bobby can’t even read Peter Rabbit!" Honey shook her head, stunned.
"Oh, yeah?" Trixie’s voice sounded strangled. With trembling hands, she held out two of the books for Honey to see. "Check out the author!"
"Robert Belden," Honey read slowly. Shocked, the girls just stared at the books, then at each other.
Suddenly, Trixie exploded. "Why that sneaky little…"
Honey quickly clapped a hand over Trixie’s mouth. "Shhh…be careful! We don’t want to earn a scarlet asterisk!"
Trixie and Honey hurried up the path to the clubhouse for the Bob-Whites meeting Jim had called. The sun was setting beyond the Hudson and a light fog was beginning to roll into the woods.
"We’ve looked everywhere you went Wednesday, Trixie," Honey said dejectedly. "You think you put Mortimer in your dresser and never took him out again, but you’re not positive. Thursday, we got together with Di at my house for our English class presentation then Jim walked you home. Last night, we worked on it at your house until Dan called you. You didn’t have Mortimer with you either night. I think you have to face it, Trixie, you have lost your head."
"I guess you’re right," sighed Trixie. "I’m just nervous it won’t stay lost. What if another dozen guys touch Mortimer before I find it?"
They pushed open the clubhouse door to find they were the last ones to arrive. Quickly, they took their seats. "You’re late!" Jim snapped at Trixie. Then he pushed a cup of hot cocoa over to her and whispered, "Like your sweater, Trix."
Trixie blinked. "Thanks… I think," she mumbled.
"The meeting of the Bob-Whites of the Glen will now come to order," Jim announced. "In light of the exciting news I have, I move that we strike the minutes and old business. All in favor, say ‘Aye’."
There was a resounding chorus of "Aye".
"The "Ayes" have it," said Trixie.
"Thank you, co-president," Jim smiled down at her, with a look of admiration in his green eyes. "Dad’s made arrangements for us to go to New York City to see a very special taping of a popular television show. We’ll be staying at the Plaza Hotel."
"What show?" asked Trixie, bouncing excitedly in her seat.
"Gosh, give me a chance to finish!" Jim said impatiently. He then laid his hand over Trixie’s and gave it a squeeze. "Dad won’t say what show it is, but he wants us to keep the beginning of February free. He won’t say anything else."
"Wow! That sounds exciting!" Di squealed.
"It sure does!" Brian agreed. "But why is your Dad being so mysterious about this?"
"Gleeps, Brian!" groaned Mart. "You said the ‘m’ word!"
Brian smacked himself on the forehead and said, "Gee, guys, I’m sorry! You’d think I’d know better than to say anything about a mystery around Trixie."
"AACCKK! You said it again!" Mart groaned even louder. Jim and Brian laughed.
"Oh, leave her alone!" cried Honey as she saw the hurt in Trixie’s eyes. "They’re only teasing, Trixie."
Jim immediately sat down and put his arm around Trixie’s shoulders. "You know I think you’re swell, Trix, I really do."
"Dan," said Honey as she saw the blush on Trixie’s face, "why are you so quiet? Don’t you think this is exciting news?"
Dan shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so, but what does it have to do with me?"
"Why, Dan, don’t you want to go?" Trixie asked incredulously.
"Don’t I always want to go?" Dan replied bitterly. "Since when does that matter? I’ll be left behind as usual."
"Oh, no, Dan!" protested Honey, "You’ll be coming with us this time - this writer likes you!" She dropped her voice to a whisper, "Well, as long as you understand that you’re to stop making plays for Trixie…"
"Trixie! Trixie and me?" laughed Dan. "Now that’s funny!"
Trixie stared at Dan, bewildered by this sudden change. Just last night, he’d read her his checklist of all the mean vs. nice things Jim had said to her during the week and all the reasons why he was the one who’d make her happiest. He was laughing so hard Trixie began to get angry. "If you were the last person on earth, Dan Mangan," she sputtered, "I--I’d get a cat for company!"
"Aw, Trix, I’m sorry." Dan said sheepishly. "I forgot that I’m the one who’s supposed to suppress my laughter when it’s at your expense. No offense, Trixie, it’s just that you’re not my type."
"And just who is your type, Dan?" Di cooed and batted her eyes at him. Dan grinned.
Mart glared at Dan and thrust the box he’d been munching out of in front of Di’s face. "Care for some Cheez-its, Di?"
"Um, Di, can I see you outside for a moment?" Trixie asked evenly.
Startled, Di met Trixie’s stern gaze, then looked away and nervously reached for some Cheez-its. "It’s kind of foggy out there…"
"We’ll only be a minute. Come on, Di," Trixie insisted. She opened the door and waited while Di reluctantly got up and went outside. The Bob-Whites watched curiously, but Trixie firmly shut the door behind her, folded her arms and demanded softly, "Okay, Di, where’s Mortimer?"
"Oh, Trixie," she wailed, "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to take your shrunken head! You’d told me it had made all the guys who touched it fall in love with you, and that sounded fun! When I went back to your room last night to get my purse, I saw it on your dresser and I just wanted to borrow it for one day! Honest! I was going to put it back tonight!" She looked tearfully at Trixie. "I’m truly sorry, Trixie," she sniffed, "Can you ever forgive me?"
"Just tell me, Dan did touch Mortimer after you took it from me, right?"
"Yes," Di whispered, "I handed it to him this morning."
Trixie threw her arms around Di and laughed. "Oh, Diana Lynch, you’ll never know how happy you’ve made me!"
"Wha-at?" Di squeaked and pulled away.
"The curse can be undone!" Trixie rejoiced. "All I have to do is find other women for all the guys in love with me and lend Mortimer to them. When that’s done, I’m going to throw it in the Hudson River!"
Jim poked his head out the door. "Trixie, are you okay? It’s chilly and kind of damp out there. Here, catch."
He threw her his jacket. She tossed it back.
"Thanks, Jim, but we’re coming in now."
"Do you want me to come with you, Trixie?" Honey hesitated on the edge of the Manor House driveway.
"No thanks, Honey, your mother wants to take you shopping. Anyway, you helped me with the hard part--finding females for all the guys formerly in love with me," Trixie grinned. "Boy, am I glad that’s over!"
"I noticed you never looked for someone else for Jim," Honey teased, her eyes twinkling merrily.
"Gee, Honey, I’ve told you a hundred times, when Jim saw Mortimer, he just grinned and said "gruesome"--but he never touched it!"
"Trixie, you know that Jim has really liked you ever since you first met," Honey reminded her.
Trixie regarded her friend thoughtfully. "Does he really like me, Honey?" she asked softly. "Dan drove me crazy with his checklists, but you know, it’s made me wonder…"
"Trixie Belden, how can you say such a thing?" demanded Honey.
Trixie shrugged, then grinned. "Never mind, Honey! You know I really like Jim, but I’ve had enough of love for awhile! Anyway, if there is a Mr. Perfect lurking out there, I have years to find him!" She laughed and waved. "I’d better go, Honey, I’ve got a burial at sea, well ... river to attend to! Have fun and call me when you get home!"
Clutching the box holding Mortimer, Trixie jogged down Glen Road toward the trail to the Hudson River. She rounded the curve of the road and nearly stumbled into an old roadster parked off the shoulder. She peered into the abandoned car.
"Well, hello there!"
Trixie whirled around and faced a tall, handsome athletic-looking young man with dark wavy hair, brown eyes and a ready smile. "Yipes! You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that!"
"Sorry," he grinned. "It’s a habit I picked up following my girlfriend around. She’s a sleuth and I help her with a lot of her cases. I love a good mystery almost as much as she does! As you see, my car’s broken down. Can you tell me where I can find the nearest telephone?"
Trixie gasped. "You’re asking for directions? I thought it was genetically impossible for a guy to do that!"
The young man laughed. "What guys have you been hanging around with? See here, where are my manners?" He extended his hand. "I’m Ned Nickerson, I’m the quarterback for Emerson College."
"Trixie Belden, Schoolgirl Shamus." They shook hands. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
"My girlfriend, Nancy Drew, is visiting her Aunt Eloise in New York City and we’re on a case. I was tailing a shady fellow for her, when the car broke down," Ned explained and kicked a tire.
"You don’t mind chasing after a bad guy?"
Ned smiled and winked, "Actually, I love getting in on the action."
Trixie cocked her head and looked up at the handsome stranger. "Tell me, do you ever put Nancy down for making a wrong deduction or tell her you think being a detective is too dangerous?"
"I’d never do that!" cried Ned indignantly. "I do tell her to be careful and I watch her back, but I’d never try to discourage her--she has a real gift for crime solving!"
"Well, Ned," Trixie grinned, "it just so happens I live right up the road. You can come and use our phone and stay for dinner if you like."
"That sounds great, Trixie, thanks!"
They started up the road. "Mind if I ask what’s in the box you’re clutching?" asked Ned.
"Funny you should ask," Trixie smiled slyly and lifted the lid. "Ned Nickerson, I’d like you to meet Mortimer…"
The End