Sergeant
Molinson dropped Trixie off at Crabapple Farm just before five
o’clock. Mart was setting
the kitchen table while his mother stirred a pot of bubbling spaghetti
sauce at the stove. Helen
focused on the good feelings she had been having all afternoon since her
talk with Maddie and pushed back the dark foreboding that enveloped her
when Trixie entered the room.
Carefully
keeping her voice neutral, Helen glanced up at her daughter in what she
hoped passed for a casual manner. “Where
were you?”
Trixie
stopped in the doorway and eyed her mother warily.
“Sergeant Molinson wanted to talk to me,” she answered
hesitantly.
“About
what?” Helen inquired, again striving for a level tone.
Eyes
flitting here, there, and everywhere, Trixie stammered nervously,
“Um… just stuff.”
Helen
observed the nervousness in her eyes and saw the quick shadow of pain
that briefly crossed her face. Somewhere
deep within, the motherly side of Helen understood what she was seeing.
Her beloved baby girl was hurting inside, and the friendly
policeman was trying to help because he was more familiar with her pain
than her family was. At the
same time, though, the recurring fear hit her with a thundering force.
Her heart longed to take Trixie in her arms, and comfort and
soothe her troubled soul – yet the pounding fear screamed that she
should warn her child to stay as far away from the policeman as
possible, because a friendship with Molinson could only encourage the
detective in her that would someday get her killed.
With
the war raging deep inside, Helen was lucky she could manage to calmly
walk across the room. She
gave Trixie an awkward pat on the shoulder and said, “He can probably
help you.” Then she made a hasty run for the bathroom.
After
setting the table, Mart had retreated to a lounging position against the
wall to silently watch the exchange.
When Helen left the room, he didn’t say a word, but pushed
himself off the wall and walked over to his sister.
At
Helen’s exit, Trixie watched in confusion and anger. She
was tired of trying to understand the problem with her mother. No matter what she did, it was wrong. She turned tearful eyes to Mart.
Seeing the sympathy reflected in his eyes, she stepped into the
circle of his open arms, drawing strength and comfort from the love
offered there.
Helen closed the bathroom door behind her and locked it.
Sinking slowly to the floor, she took several deep breaths.
She leaned against the wall, cheek to the cool enamel tiles, and
struggled to regain the composure she had achieved earlier.
Trying to find some sane thought upon which to focus, she began
to count the minutes until she left with Maddie in the morning.
Knowing Maddie was trying to help her calmed her and gave her a
sliver of hope. She
desperately clung to that hope. Somehow,
she had to find her way out of this horrible haze of fear.
Tuesday,
October 24, 1995
The
morning dawned dreary and cool. The
weather suited Trixie’s mood perfectly.
As she sat down to breakfast, Mart gave her an understanding look
of compassion. He knew he
was exhausted, so she must feel even worse.
The previous evening had been spent in Mart’s room, discussing
the “Moms situation” until well past midnight.
Trixie had gone to bed with a splitting headache and tear-swollen
eyes, but with a peace about having Mart as a confidante.
Not
wanting to draw attention to herself, Trixie tried to pretend she
hadn’t woken up with a headache worse than the one with which she had
gone to bed. The throbbing
pain was making her feel nauseated, however, and the last thing she wanted to
do was try to eat anything. She
toyed with her food, waiting to see what her mother would be like this
morning.
As
Helen bustled around the kitchen, her eyes darted nervously from one
face to another. Finally
feeling like she could speak with a steady voice, Helen asked,
“Trixie, will you and Bobby be eating at Wimpy’s tonight?”
Trixie
looked up, startled. “Um...”
she stammered. “I
guess.”
“Good,”
Helen nodded, her voice tight with strain.
“Peter, you and Mart are on your own.
Maddie and I are going in to the City today, and we won’t be
back ‘til late.”
Four
pair of surprised eyes followed her as she hastily left the room.
Looks were passed back and forth around the breakfast table, but
no one dared to comment. Trixie
gave up pretending to eat, pushed back her chair, and left to finish
getting ready for school.
Bobby
cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“Do you think Mrs. Wheeler is going to help Moms act normal
again?”
Peter
looked sadly at his youngest son and issued a weary sigh. “I hope so, Bobby. I
sincerely hope so.”
Mart
and Trixie walked side-by-side down the driveway to catch the bus.
A good, stiff breeze rattled the trees, shaking the leaves from
their branches. The leaves
already on the ground crunched loudly.
The dreary morning resounded loudly with the sounds of fall
making its presence known.
Staring
at the ground as she shuffled along, Trixie muttered, “This is all my
fault.”
Mart
sighed loudly. They had
argued this point endlessly the previous night, but, apparently, nothing he’d
said had sunk in. “How do
you figure that?”
“I
don’t know!” she wailed. “I
have absolutely no idea. All
I know is that somehow, someway, this is all because of me.
And I can’t fix it because I don’t know what I did,” her
voice broke, choking on her tears.
Mart
turned to face her as they reached the bus stop.
Seeing his sister crying, again, was killing him.
There was nothing he could do at this point, except to comfort
her. He pulled her into his
arms, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
She sobbed in earnest.
“This
isn’t your fault, Princess,” Mart comforted.
“Whatever is up with Moms may be connected to you somehow, but
it’s not your fault. Moms
is the only one who knows what’s bothering her.
Hopefully, Mrs. Wheeler can help her work out her problem.
But, sweetheart, it’s her problem.
Not yours.”
“How
can you be sure?” she cried.
“Because
there was nothing you did, Trix.
And if there was, Mrs. Wheeler would have locked the two of you
in a room together last night until this was all worked out.”
She
nodded. She understood what
he was saying, but it still hurt badly.
“I swear, her cold politeness is more painful than the
screaming matches. I’d
rather she just stuck a knife through my heart,” she sobbed.
As
the bus rumbled to a stop, Trixie stepped back from his embrace and
reached into her pocket for a tissue.
Mart grabbed her backpack from where she’d set it on the ground
and carried it onto the bus, while she followed, wiping away her tears
and blowing her nose. By the time they reached their seats at the back of the bus,
she was fairly composed. She
slipped into her seat and turned to stare out the window without
greeting the other Bob-Whites.
Mart
set her bag on the seat beside her, hesitated for a moment, then joined
Diana in the seat behind his sister.
He watched her solemnly for a long moment, before turning to
greet his girlfriend. She
arched her brow in question. He
mouthed, “Moms.” She
nodded briefly before shooting a meaningful look at Honey and Dan,
across the aisle.
A
couple of minutes later, Tad arrived.
Sitting down beside Trixie, he carefully studied her demeanor.
“Good morning, Trix. Is
something wrong?” he asked softly.
She
shook her head without turning to look at him.
He took her hand in his. “Sure
you don’t want to talk?”
“Not
now,” she answered, so quietly he had to strain to hear her.
“Come
on,” he cajoled. “I
need to earn those brownie points.”
She
finally turned, a faint smile gracing her face.
“You’ll find a way.”
Sensing
that he shouldn’t push, Tad decided to change tactics.
“Did you have any trouble with your vocabulary?”
Trixie
paled. “Shit.”
Mart
looked up sharply at his sister’s unusually strong language, while Tad
asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I
completely forgot to do any homework last night,” Trixie answered
frantically. She raked her
hand through her curls as she mentally reviewed her assignments.
“I had Spanish, French, and Math.”
Tad
eyed her cautiously. He
wanted to help, but he didn’t want to be pushy.
“If you want, I can help you with the French and Math at
lunchtime.”
Trixie
threw him a grateful look. “That
would be wonderful. Can I
meet you in the library?”
“Sure,”
he smiled. “Don’t
worry, we’ll whip right through it.”
“Calm
down, Trix,” Mart cautioned. “Don’t
panic.”
Turning
to smile tightly at her brother, Trixie said, “I’m not. I just need to do something about Spanish quickly.”
The bus was stopping in front of school, so she jumped out of her
seat and hurried off. “I’ll
see you later, Tad.”
Tad
turned to Mart. “What
could make her forget homework?”
“My
mother,” Mart answered bitterly.
“Our house is a veritable bastion of suffocating tension.”
Honey
quietly inserted her meager information into the conversation.
“Mother would only say that they had a good talk, she has some
idea of the problem, and they’re spending the day together to try and
work on it.”
Mart
worked his jaw angrily. “I’ve always been protective of my sister.
I just never thought I’d have to protect her from our own
mother!”
Watching
Mart storm off the bus, the others exchanged worried looks.
The warmth and love of the Belden home was the rock in their
lives, as well. The walls
of their world were crumbling around them.
Trixie
jumped off the bus and ran straight for Merrissa Parkman. Riss was leaning against a large oak tree in front of the
school, talking to Paul. Although
Trixie noticed Chris heading for her out the corner of her eye, she
didn’t stop. She ran up
to Riss and grabbed her arm.
“I
need to talk to you right away,” Trixie said, pulling her towards the
school. She looked at Paul
and gestured toward Chris. “Go
keep your compatriot busy.”
As
Trixie rushed her into the building, Riss tried to find out what was
going on. “Trix, what’s
the problem?”
Once
they were safely out of sight in a corner of the entrance, Trixie asked
quietly, “Do you think your mom would excuse me from gym today?”
Riss
frowned in puzzlement. “Why?”
Holding
a shaking hand to her forehead, Trixie struggled to explain.
“Life sucks at home, I didn’t sleep at all last night, I have
a splitting headache, I didn’t get any homework done, I desperately
need a study hall second period, and, if I get hit in the head with a
volleyball, I’m sure I’ll pass out.”
Narrowing
her eyes and studying her friend’s face, Riss said, “If she does
excuse you, she won’t let you play ball after school either.”
Trixie
sighed in frustration and fought back a fresh wave of tears. Surprised to see how close to crying the younger girl was,
Riss put her arm around her shoulder.
“Oh, well. It
can’t hurt to try. Let’s
go see my mom.”
When
they reached the clinic, Mrs. Parkman greeted them warmly. “Hello, girls. To
what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Then
she noticed Trixie’s drawn, tear-streaked face.
She arched her brow at Riss, who shrugged helplessly.
“Let’s step into my office, Trixie, so we can talk.”
Leaving
Riss to wait, Mrs. Parkman led Trixie away.
After closing the door separating the small, private office from
the main area of the clinic, the school nurse gently pushed Trixie down
into a chair and sat facing her. “What’s
up, Trixie?”
Trixie
shuddered, struggling to find her normal reserves of strength and
determination. “I just
don’t think I can deal with this today,” she offered in a shaky
voice, tears in her eyes.
“With
what?” Mrs. Parkman asked kindly.
Trixie
didn’t answer for the longest time.
Finally, she looked at the nurse, pleading with her eyes. “Please, Mrs. Parkman, could you just excuse me from gym?
I just need a study hall instead.”
Studying
her carefully, the woman probed gently.
“Is there a problem in gym class?”
Trixie
shook her head and was instantly sorry.
Clamping down on the dizziness that threatened to knock her from
her seat, she gritted her teeth. “No,”
she answered shortly. “No,
the problem is at home. I
didn’t do my homework, I didn’t sleep, and I don’t feel well.
Please let me have a study hall, so I can sit and do homework.
If I have to go to gym, I’ll probably throw up and fail
Spanish.”
Hiding
her concern for one of her favorite students, Mrs. Parkman smiled and
patted her hand. “I doubt
you’ll fail Spanish for having one bad day, my dear.
But I think I can handle your request.
You don’t look good, though… maybe you should just go home.
Should I call your mother?”
Trixie’s
blue eyes flew wide in horror. “NO!
I… I mean… she’s going in to the City today, so she won’t
be there.”
Shocked
by Trixie’s obvious fear of involving Helen Belden, the nurse frowned.
She turned to her desk and silently wrote out the excusal slip.
Turning back to Trixie, she said, “This will take care of gym.
I definitely want to see you at the end of the day, or come
earlier if you need to.”
Smiling
tremulously, Trixie thanked her and left.
Once she was sure the girls were gone, the determined woman
grabbed the phone. She
dialed the number quickly, from memory.
When the line was answered, she spoke in clipped tones.
“Harrison, this is Faith Parkman.
I need to speak to Sherry right away.”
Sherry
came on the phone a scant moment later, out of breath.
“Faith, what’s wrong?”
Realizing
what she’d done, Mrs. Parkman apologized.
“I’m sorry, Sherry. I
didn’t mean to panic you or make you think there’s something wrong
with Diana. The problem is
Trixie – or Helen.”
Sherry
sighed deeply, a combination of relief that Di was fine and frustration
over the question. “Faith,
I keep overhearing things about some problem with Helen.
But she acts perfectly normal whenever I see her or talk to her.
I do know that’s she’s been avoiding Maddie Wheeler.”
The
nurse shook her head impatiently. “There’s
more to it than that. Trixie
was in here this morning crying.”
Sherry
was shocked. “Real tears?
Trixie?”
“Uh-huh.
She said there were problems at home.
She hadn’t slept, she looked like hell, and she absolutely did not
want me to call Helen.”
Sherry
furrowed her brow in worry. “It
must be bad to reduce Trixie to tears.”
Faith
nodded. “Trixie did
mention that Helen’s going into the City today.”
Sherry
chewed her lip. “So is
Maddie. Maybe they’re
going together. I’m going
to call Maddie quickly before she leaves.”
“Let
me know if there is anything I can do to help.
Helen has been a friend since grade school, and Trixie… well,
that poor kid is falling apart at the seams.”
“I’ll
see what I can find out and get back to you.”
Trixie
and Merrissa walked together down the hallway.
Trixie was quiet, but she appeared to be feeling a little better.
Paul and Chris were waiting for them at Riss’ locker.
Trixie
gave Chris a winning smile. “Hey,
Handsome. Would you be
interested in doing me a favor?”
“You
blow me off outside, and now you want a favor?” he asked with a quirk of
his brow and a distinct twinkle in his eye.
Trixie
sidled up to him and put her arm around his waist.
“I blew you off so I could arrange for a study hall second
period. Now I have the time
and the Spanish homework. All
I need is some help.” She
batted her eyelashes rather effectively.
Chris
slipped his arm around her shoulder and leaned down to give her a quick
kiss. “I can’t think of
anything I’d rather do during second period.”
Paul
snorted. “Am I ever that
nauseating?”
Without
missing a beat, Chris and Trixie chorused, “Yes!”
Riss
laughed. “Give it up,
honey. Just because we have
two years on them doesn’t make them any different than we were in the
beginning.”
Paul
sighed. Then, with an evil
grin, he retorted. “Wrong.
At least I can look you in the eye without hurting my neck.”
Trixie
stepped away from Chris and headed down the hall, nonchalantly stomping on
Paul’s foot as she passed him. “I’ll
see you later, Chris. Try not
to bring the Center of the Universe with you.”
“Later,
Blue Eyes,” Chris called after her before turning to Paul with a grin.
“Give it up, man. She can take anything you dish out and throw it right back at
you.”
“Of
course she can,” Paul grinned back.
“It wouldn’t be any fun if she couldn’t.”
Riss
laughed at the boys’ antics as she watched Trixie go.
At least her friend seemed to be in a better mood now.
The
phone was answered on the second ring.
“Wheeler residence, Miss Trask speaking.”
“Margery,
it’s Sherry. Is Maddie
still home?”
“She’s
just getting ready to leave.”
“I’d
like to speak with her before she goes, please.
It’s about Helen.”
Margery
Trask sighed. She hadn’t
been privy to Helen’s confidences yesterday, but she had had to deal
with Madeleine all evening. Maddie
was beside herself with worry over Helen, and Margery seriously doubted
that whatever Sherry Lynch had to say was going to improve the situation.
“Hold
on a moment, Mrs. Lynch. I’ll
get her right away.”
Mrs.
Lynch? Do I even want
to know why Marge is being so formal? Sherry thought while she waited
for Maddie to come to the line.
“Sherry,
is there a problem?” Maddie asked.
“Actually,
I was hoping you could tell me that,” Sherry replied.
Maddie
sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Sherry… I hope you’re not just fishing for information.”
Sherry
was momentarily put off by Maddie’s tone.
They were close friends – in fact, Maddie, Sherry, and Helen had
grown nearly as close as Honey, Diana, and Trixie.
To have Maddie accusing her of prying was offensive.
In the same split second, however, Sherry realized that such a tone
could only be coming from the Queen of Tact if she were under intense
stress.
“I’m
not fishing, Maddie. Well, I
suppose I am, but for a reason.” Sherry
proceeded to relate her phone conversation with Faith Parkman. “I’m worried. What’s
going on? Is there anything I
can do?”
Maddie
was quiet for a long time. When
she finally spoke, she chose her words carefully.
“Sherry, I would love to tell you everything I know.
I would love to hand the problem over to you, because you’re
better at dealing with these things than I am. But
I’ve been taken into several people’s confidences, and I can’t break
them. All I can say is…
things are not well in the Belden household.
The crux of the problem is between Helen and Trixie, and I’m
working on it.”
She
stopped, and Sherry waited for her to say more.
When the silence wore on, Sherry pushed a little.
“How can I help?”
“The
only thing I can ask you to do right now is to pray that today goes well.
As soon as I can tell you more, I will.”
Sherry
could hear the strain in Maddie’s voice.
She also instinctively knew that Maddie needed to be the one to
help in the trenches this time. “Okay,
Maddie. You’ve got my
prayers. And anything else
you ask for. You know where
to find me.”
“Thanks,
Sherry. I’ll call you
tomorrow.”
After
hanging up the phone, Maddie leaned against the wall, trying to regroup.
A simple phone call had thrown her off balance; how on earth was
she going to handle Helen all day? Hopefully,
a day of shopping and girl talk would relax her friend a little.
Maddie only prayed that the session with her therapist friend would
help Helen somehow.
Trixie
and Tad met in the library and worked diligently through the lunch period
to finish all Trixie’s homework. When
the last math problem was finished, she closed her book with a sigh of
relief. “Thanks so much,
Tad. I’d be lost without
you.”
He
smiled at her, his intense eyes holding her gaze.
“Remember that.”
Her
answering smile was playful. “I
won’t forget; I promise.”
“So,
how am I doing on the brownie points?”
She
pondered for a moment. “Well,
you’re off to a good start. But
one homework session hardly covers it.”
Tad
covered her hand with his and gave her a serious look.
“I would hope not. I
wouldn’t want you to be done with me after one homework session.”
Staring
into his eyes, Trixie’s heart skipped a beat.
Breathlessly, she whispered, “No, not by a long shot.”
“Good.”
He
leaned in and gave her a long, lingering kiss.
They broke apart when the librarian loudly cleared her throat at
them. Trixie blushed and got
busy packing up her books. Glancing
at her watch, she said, “The bell’s going to ring any minute.”
Tad
threw his bag over his shoulder and grabbed hers in his hand. With his free hand, he grabbed her hand and held it tightly
as they walked out of the library. When
Trixie felt that her face had returned to its normal color, she looked up
at the boy beside her. His
mouth was curved ever so slightly at the corners, and he looked pleased.
“What
are you so happy about?”
He
smiled and whispered in her ear, “Kissing you does that to me.”
Despite
her best effort to be serious, her face split in a wide grin.
Why his admission pleased her so, she just couldn’t say.
But it did.
Tad
dropped his pen and bent to retrieve it.
Just then, Beth Fleming happened round the corner.
Seeing Trixie, and not noticing Tad, Beth issued her sickeningly
sweet, phony smile. “Well,
hello, Trixie.”
Trixie
stiffened and glared at the cheerleader.
“Beth,” she acknowledged coldly.
Tad
stood, pen in hand. Beth’s
expression changed quickly from vicious hatred to cool indifference. “Tad,” she said with a nod.
Beth
looked Trixie up and down. “Afraid
to walk the hallways alone, Trixie?”
Tad
glared. “Why, Beth?
Should she be?”
Beth
tossed her hair over her shoulder. “One
never knows.” Then she
sauntered away.
Still
holding herself stiffly, Trixie proceeded down the corridor. Tad hurried to keep up with her.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“Trix,
please don’t lie to me,” Tad pleaded with her, gentle but insistent.
She
stopped. Staring at her
shoes, she huffed, “Just don’t think about it.
She’s not worth the waste of brain cells.”
Trixie
stormed down the hall. Tad
followed at a slower pace, making mental notes.
He definitely needed to report this to Mart.
As
ordered, Trixie reported to the nurse’s office at dismissal. Walking through the door, she thought about the headache from
the morning. The pain had
only diminished slightly, but concentrating on school had enabled her to
forget about it for most of the day.
Burying the pain was becoming easier and easier by the day.
Mrs.
Parkman looked Trixie over carefully, trying to judge if she was feeling
better or just putting on a good show.
Apparently convinced by Trixie’s performance, she decided it
would be okay for the girl to play basketball today.
When
Riss, Chris, and Paul arrived at the health office looking to round out
their quartet, the nurse greeted them warmly.
“Here’s
the deal, gang. You go, you
play ball, and then you all report to our house for dinner.
No ifs, ands, or buts. Got
it?”
Riss
grinned at her mother. “I
love the way you try to make it sound like a punishment when you invite my
friends for dinner.”
Faith
made a face at her daughter.
Chris
threw an arm around Trixie. “So
what do you think, Blue Eyes? Mrs.
Parkman making us a home-cooked meal, or burgers from Wimpy’s?”
Trixie
smiled. “That’s a tough
call, you know,” she teased. “However,
I got the distinct impression I wasn’t being given a choice.”
The
nurse quirked her brow. “How
perceptive. Glad you caught
that. Yes, dear, that was
directed specifically at you.” Narrowing
her eyes, she continued. “I
want to see you after practice.”
Trixie
avoided her eyes. She grabbed
Chris’ hand and pulled him along. “Come
on, we have to go get Bobby.”
Chris
followed willingly. Paul made
faces behind his back, implying he was worse than a puppy dog.
Riss shoved her boyfriend good-naturedly and waved goodbye to her
mother.
Faith
watched them go, deep in thought. She
hadn’t been satisfied with the little amount of information Sherry Lynch
had
been able to get. She wanted
to know what was going on with Helen, but, in the meantime, she would be
keeping a careful eye on Trixie.
Brian
Belden walked into his dorm suite and looked around the common room with a
sense of déjà vu. John was
stretched out on the couch, Preacher was ensconced in the chair by his
feet, Nathan was sprawled on the floor beside Preacher, Clay was scrunched
into the chair by John’s head, and Jim was entrenched at the desk in the
corner behind Clay.
Brian
quirked an eyebrow at his friends. “What’s
with you guys? Do you have
assigned seats or something?”
He
was greeted by a moment of silence, followed by the lightning-speed launch
of five water balloons with perfect aim.
SPLASH!
The
five pranksters burst into laughter while Brian swore.
“Belden,
you’re just so easy!” John exclaimed.
Giving
in to the good-natured teasing, Brian chuckled.
“Fine. But be on
your guard. To quote my baby
brother: Revenge is sweet,
saccharine sweet.”
Clay
grabbed the phone as it rang. “Boston
Asylum… Yeah, hang on.” Tossing
the phone at Jim’s head, he called out, “Frayne, it’s for you.”
Jim
never turned from his computer screen.
Still typing with his right hand, he stretched out his left hand
and plucked the phone from the air. He
tucked it between his shoulder and his ear and returned both hands to the
keyboard. Still mostly paying
attention to his work, he answered distractedly, “Yeah, Frayne here.”
Upon
hearing the voice on the other end of the line, his typing stopped
abruptly, and his eyes flew wide in shock.
“Hello,
James, dear. I was hoping we
could do each other a favor,” the voice purred.
Not
trusting his own ears, Jim gripped the phone tightly and asked, “Who is
this?”
The
ripple of laughter in response sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard to
his ears. “Surely you
haven’t forgotten me so soon? We
just saw each other Friday night. This
is Beth. Beth Fleming.”
Jim
swiveled in his chair and looked right at Brian, his face turning red.
“Why are you calling me, Beth?”
Brian’s
jaw dropped. Completely
forgetting his sodden clothing, he hurried over and perched on the arm of
Clay’s chair, facing Jim.
“Well,
I’m sure you’re not thrilled with Trixie’s plans for Homecoming.
I know I’m not very happy with Chris right now.
And their evening is destined for failure.
So, I thought you could accompany me to the dance.
That way, when their date blows up, they can each leave with the
right person.”
Jim
could hear the evil smile in her voice.
He was furious, and saw little incentive for keeping his temper in
check. Green eyes blazing, he
let loose with both barrels.
“Listen,
you uppity little bitch! Stay
out of it – leave Chris and Trixie alone.
I have no desire to interfere with their evening, and hell will
freeze over before I help you do so!
If I find out that you so much as sneezed wrong in Trixie’s
direction, you’ll find out that I’m not nearly as nice as people think
I am!” With that, he
slapped the off button on the portable handset and threw it across the
room.
The
phone shattered against the far wall after narrowly missing Preacher’s
head. The others sat staring
at Jim, stunned. Jim
and Brian had shared stories about their friends back home with the guys,
including what little they knew of the Beth-and-Trixie situation, so the
friends were easily able to interpret the meaning of the conversation.
Jim
was seething. He launched
himself from his chair and moved to the window.
Brian winced, wondering if Jim’s fist would be going through the
glass any second.
Preacher
dared to risk the redhead’s wrath.
“You do know you’ve just made trouble for Trixie, right?”
Jim
turned to stare at him, worry breaking through the fury on his face.
Nathan
nodded in agreement. “If
she’s the stuck-up snot you’ve described, she’ll be insulted that
you turned her down.”
John
threw in his two cents. “If
she’s a vicious wench like you’ve said, she’ll take it out on Trixie.”
“You’ve
got to warn her,” Clay said.
Brian
shook his head. “Tell Trix
that Beth asked Jim? Are you
nuts? She’ll freak!”
“You
can’t let her get blind-sided,” Clay retorted.
Jim
sighed. “They’re right,
Bri. I’ve got to warn her,
at least. This is my
fault.”
“No,
it’s not,” Brian argued. “You
could’ve been more polite, but you definitely had to say no.
And even a polite no would’ve pissed Beth off. I think she asked you just to have an excuse to be mad at
Trixie.”
“Brian’s
right,” Preacher agreed. “And
telling her off felt better than a polite no, didn’t it?”
Jim
reluctantly smiled. “Yeah,
it felt good. Some people
just rub you the wrong way, you know?
I’ve wanted to slap the smirk off her face since I met her.”
Brian
laughed. “I started school
in her class, remember? I’ve
wanted to smack her since the first day of kindergarten.”
“Well,
look at it this way,” Nathan said.
“When she goes after Trixie, you’ll both have your excuse.”
Jim
and Brian both whipped their heads around to glare at him. Preacher, being within arm’s reach, whacked him in the head
with a large textbook.
Nathan
blinked innocently. “What?
What did I say?”
John
threw an empty pop can at him. “You’re
the youngest in your family, aren’t you?”
Nathan
looked puzzled. “Yeah.
What’s that got to do with anything?”
Clay
rolled his eyes. “It’s
the only explanation for that statement, other than pure stupidity.”
“Meaning?”
Preacher
explained patiently, as if speaking to a small child. “You don’t ever let anyone go after your
little sister, no matter how much you want an excuse to take them out.”
Finally,
understanding dawned on Nathan’s face.
Sheepishly, he looked at Brian and Jim.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Brian
waved his hand at Nathan, as if to say, Don’t worry about it.
Jim ran a hand roughly through his hair before checking his watch.
“Well,
I can’t call her now,” the redhead announced.
“I’m going to get some air and mentally practice groveling.”
He looked at the mess in the corner.
“And go buy a new phone.”
He
walked out the door of the suite, grabbing his jacket from its nearby hook
on his way.
Brian
grabbed his hair with both hands. “Trixie
doesn’t need this.”
Clay
pushed him off the chair arm and calmly watched Brian crash onto the
floor. He leaned over to look
down at his roommate. “You
said you were going to step back and let her grow up.
Life’s a bitch. Deal
with it.”
Brian
lay back to stare at the ceiling with a deep sigh.
Growing up sucks!