Summer of Change

Part VIII

By Elizabeth Goode

The Saturday before classes started at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High, Honey and Jim were over at Crabapple Farm, pumping the Beldens for information about Sleepyside, their classmates, teachers, and subjects. Honey's previous schools had been all-girls boarding schools, and this would be the first time she had classes with boys in them. She was obviously nervous, her voice pitching higher as she asked, wide-eyed, "Do we get to eat lunch together? All at the same time?"

For his part, Jim was outwardly confident, but inwardly a mess. He had convinced himself that every single student in his class was going to know uncomfortable amounts of detail about him. He knew how small-town gossip worked, knew how many people shopped at Mr. Lytell's store, and how much the old man liked to gossip. He was envisioning half of the student body trying to be his best friend because they had read about his inheritance in the Sleepyside Sun, and half of them gazing at him pityingly as the poor orphan adopted by the wealthy Wheelers. Both options made him nauseous. He listened as Trixie filled Honey in on some of the other students.

"Well, let's see … Diana Lynch and I used to be pretty good friends. She's been really standoffish since her Dad made a ton of money, though. I wonder if maybe she never did like me and once she had money she didn't have to be friends with messy, nosy, old Trixie Belden anymore."

"Trixie! That is no way to talk about yourself, or about poor Diana Lynch!" Mrs. Belden stood in the doorway, a tray of delicious smelling cobbler in her hands. She set the tray down and patted Trixie's unruly mop of curls. "I happen to know that I raise interesting children that others should only hope to be friends with. And I also happen to know that the Lynch twins in Bobby's class are having some problems as well. You shouldn't judge. Just be friendly with Diana when you go back to school, and she'll come around."

Her cheeks flushing red beneath her summer tan, Trixie mumbled, "Thanks, Moms. I'll try."

Privately, Jim thought that any other student who couldn't see how wonderful Trixie Belden was, no matter how messy or nosy she got, wasn't worth the time of day, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. No sense embarrassing her further, or himself.

The cobbler made its way around the table, and it was now his turn. Worry still caused his stomach to churn, and he was forced to take a small portion so as not to appear rude, and push it around the plate with his fork.

The Wheelers had been great, they really had. He really liked Mr. Wheeler, but he always got the impression that his adoptive father was disappointed that he hadn't been able to call him anything other than Mr. Wheeler. Mrs. Wheeler was warm and caring, if a bit shy around her new son. He could see how she and Honey had gotten off on the wrong foot together – neither one of them was assertive enough to insist on a conversation. Madeleine Wheeler had asked him to call her Mother, as Honey did, and for some reason, this was much easier for him than calling Mr. Wheeler anything other than Mr. Wheeler. Honey and her mother reminded him somewhat of his own mother – they were quiet like she had been, but had a good sense of humor if you were patient enough to wait for it.

"Jim? Are you feeling all right?" Mrs. Belden placed a cool, gentle hand on his forehead from behind, as deftly and as naturally as if he had been Brian or Mart. "You've barely touched your cobbler, and your face is looking a bit pale."

He flashed her a rueful smile. "The cobbler is great, Mrs. Belden. I'm just a little bit … ah, nervous about school starting so soon, that's all." There. It was out there, and he could deal with the embarrassment of saying it out loud, at least in the present company.

Brian let out a relieved sigh. "Me too. I'm really worked up about the debate team call out meeting. I mean, I've talked it up like crazy to you, but what if you make the cut and I don't? Or neither of us do?"

"You seem awfully sure I'm going to make it at all," Jim said, still tapping at his cobbler with his fork. "I'm not so sure. You at least know the other students already."

"That may not work to my advantage. At least two of the guys on the team gave me a hard time last year because I did better as a sophomore in Chem I than they did as juniors. Mark Nelson and Todd Maurer weren't terribly happy when Mr. Reynolds asked me to give them a tutorial in stoichiometry. I'm not sure how glad they'll be to see me at the call out."

At the word, "stoichiometry", Jim winced. "It took me the better half of a school year, but sheer will has made me a bit of an expert in stoichiometry. Not some of my fondest memories – I think I chewed my pencil so much I may be part woodchuck by now."

Brian and Mart laughed, but Trixie and Honey stared at them blankly.

"What on earth is stoichiometry? It sounds worse than algebra or trigonometry! And I haven't had any trig yet at all!" Trixie made a face, repeating the word as though it tasted bad in her mouth. "Stoichiometry."

Mart piped in, "It is the balancing of chemical equations in a mathematical fashion."

"That's right. And when you get to be a big, bad junior, you'll get to do it too!" Brian teased her affectionately.

Jim leaned over and whispered, "It sounds worse because it is worse, Trix. I hated it until it finally clicked in my head, and then I wondered why I'd thought it was so hard. Unlike geometry. Man, did I ever study my brains out for that class, only to find out that once you get to trig, you have to remember it and use it regularly. Color me surprised."

Always the serious student, Brian added, "You know, there are some studies coming out that propose that certain types of learners are more likely to be good at geometry or algebra. That people for whom one comes easily might not pick up the other without some serious determination."

Mrs. Belden interjected, "That was true for me, actually. I had a terrible time learning algebra when I was in school, and then I took geometry and it came really easily to me. I used to help other students with their geometry."

"You're an artist. Some of the studies say that artists are more left-brained and that geometrical understanding falls under left-brained resources." Brian paused. "But I was pretty good at both geometry and algebra. I wonder how that's accounted for in the study?"

Giving Brian a friendly clap on the shoulder, Jim teased his friend good-naturedly, "Maybe you're just blessed with an ambidextrous brain!"

After the cobbler was eaten, Mart having had the lion's share, the plan was to take the horses out for a ride. Jim and Brian went ahead over to the Manor House to get started on saddling the horses, while Trixie, Honey, and Mart stayed behind to help Moms with clearing the table and doing the dishes.

As they left the driveway of Crabapple Farm and headed up the hill to the Manor House, Jim tried to work up the courage to ask Brian a few more questions pertaining to the starting of school. There were so many things he was worried about that he felt as though he was about to burst, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. His internal monologue raced, "How much do the town kids know about me? Are they going to act like I'm some poor victim? Do they know how much I inherited? Are they going to want to be my friend because of that instead of because they actually like me? What if I say something weird on the first day and make a fool out of myself? What about P.E. class? Do we have to change in a locker room full of guys, or are there stalls or something?

Brian spoke, his tone light and conversational, "You don't have anything to worry about. The kids at school are mostly pretty good people. Sleepyside is small enough that we all at least know who each other is. At least most of them probably read about the search for Old Mr. Frayne's lost heir in the paper this summer, and they'll know it was you. If anything, they'll probably be a bit starstruck about you and your glamorous headline-news worthy life. "

"There's nothing glamorous about me or my life. I – I spent the last three years with Jonesy scared to death and wound so tight it didn't take much to set me off. All I've been much good at lately is running away."

"Well, you're here now. You're not running anymore, and you shouldn't feel bad about running to begin with. We're still kids, really. I know I'd be a nervous wreck if I struck out on my own, and I sure as heck don't have the kinds of reasons you did for running away. That stepfather of yours sounds like a pretty bad character."

Jim was silent for a moment. He hadn't really talked about Jonesy with Brian or Mart. Maybe it was because the girls had found him when he was in a particularly vulnerable position – he'd been so tired and hungry, his back still stinging from the beating he'd taken right before he'd run – that he had blurted out the whole story to them. With Brian and Mart, it had been different. He'd never been entirely sure how much they knew, and was reluctant to bring it up.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yeah, he was pretty bad."

"Listen, I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable or anything by asking questions – I'm actually trying to do the opposite. You're a really straightforward kind of guy, and one thing we seem to have in common is that we both appreciate honesty, so I'm just going to be really upfront with you. Feel free to knock my block off if I cross a line."

Jim stared, too taken aback by Brian's direct approach to say anything at all.

Brian continued, "It's been really good having someone to hang around with who isn't my sibling. I love Trixie and Mart, but I've never had a friend close to my age who lived nearby, and I'm just really glad you moved here. I know Mart and I missed out on most of the summer being away, and that you got to be good friends with Trixie and Honey first, so it's only natural that you'd be more comfortable talking to them sometimes. If I were in your shoes, I'd be wondering like crazy what people were thinking, how much they know, and all that's just on top of the regular old anxiety of starting in a new school and meeting new people. I can't begin to imagine what you went through living with your stepfather, or what it was like running away and sleeping in the woods and all of that - I mean, I love camping as much as the next guy, but I like to get back to my bed when it's all said and done." The oldest Belden sibling took a deep breath. "I know he beat you, and I know you're worried about people finding out and thinking differently about you. You don't want people acting like you're a victim and all that. I just wanted you to know that I know, and that it doesn't change my opinion of you at all. If anything, it makes me respect you more, because I know what a good guy you are and how much you had to overcome to stay that way."

Unable to reply right away, Jim was struggling with his emotions. He hadn't had a best friend since before his mother had married Jonesy and they'd moved to Albany, but listening to Brian Belden's speech, he knew he had one now. A guy couldn't ask for a better friend than Brian.

"I –"

"Just listen for a second. I've got the feeling there's some stuff you've been worried about for awhile. When we first got back from camp and went up to your house to change for riding, you kept your back to the wall the whole time you were changing your shirt. And at the lake when we all went swimming, you kind of froze on the dock. I saw Honey's face – she knew what you were worried about, and I guessed it. You've got some scars, probably. Am I right?"

Jim nodded wordlessly.

"How bad is it?"

Hands shaking with nervousness, Jim pulled his t-shirt up to reveal the damage, then quickly pulled it back down.

When Brian spoke, his tone was calm, and held no pity, only friendly concern. "The two scars over here," he patted Jim's right shoulder lightly, "aren't very noticeable, really. And, they should keep on fading with time. The other one looks worse, but it's a lot smaller. It'll probably fade away even more than the other two. In the meantime, if you're worried about it, we'll get to the gym for basketball early and get you a locker in the corner against the back wall, so you won't have to worry."

Palpable relief coursed through his body. He could hardly trust his voice. He wasn't particularly vain – it was just the idea that Jonesy had left a mark, something lasting, on him that he hated. He already felt terribly conspicuous as a new arrival in town without the added burden of people whispering behind his back about him.

He flashed Brian a weak grin. "Thanks. I mean it. I – like I told Trixie and Honey that first day, I just hadn't been around decent people for so long, I keep expecting the worst. You Beldens and the Wheelers have done nothing but surprise me over and over again."

Brian returned his friend's smile. "Well, to hear Trixie talk about you in the letters she wrote me and Mart at camp, we're still waiting for you to launch into flight or pick up a house from its foundations or something. Get a move on, Frayne! We need proof that she didn't exaggerate her claims."

At the mention of Trixie and her apparent misrepresentation of him to her brothers, his face felt hot, but he couldn't stop the smile those words caused. "Trixie? Exaggerate?"

"You really have no idea what Mart and I have had to put up with. You'll learn, grasshopper. There is so much history to catch you up on – let's see. How about last year when she became convinced that there were squatters living in the Manor House, and went snooping over there, only to be caught by real estate agents hired by the Spencers to evaluate the property for sale. They didn't call the police, thankfully, but they did deliver her back to Moms and Dad with a word of advice not to assume that people are tramps and thieves without some kind of proof."

Jim chuckled at this. Apparently, she hadn't learned her lesson. He remembered waking up on the mattress in Uncle James' wreck of a house, disoriented with exhaustion, hunger, and fear, only to be accused of being a burglar and a tramp as well. Aloud, he asked, "The Spencers?"

Brian nodded. "The last people to live in the Manor House before you and Honey and the Wheelers. I barely remember them, really. I just remember Moms and Dad mentioning them every now and then, mostly in the context of, 'Do you think the Spencers will ever sell the place?'"

The boys had arrived at the stables, where Regan met them with Jupiter in tow. "Good to see you fellows! I was about to take this one out for some exercise – want to take over for me, Jim?"

Enthusiastically, Jim nodded. "The girls and Mart are on their way up as well. We wanted to have one last carefree ride before school starts."

The red-haired groom laughed, "So, after today all of your rides will be careworn, solemn affairs? It's just school, Jim. I heard tell that you're kind of an old pro at it."

Letting Jupiter out into the corral while he started getting the other horses ready for Mart and the girls to save time, Jim gave the groom a rueful grin. "It's not the school part that has me worried. It's being the new kid."

Regan gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, understanding in that simple gesture that Jim wasn't just talking about being a new kid at school.

After a long ride in the game preserve, Brian and Mart headed home to Crabapple Farm to help Peter Belden with some chores they had promised to get done before school started and they didn't have as much time. Trixie and Honey were supposed to take care of the horses, as Jim and Brian had gotten them ready for the ride, but Jim stayed to help them anyway. He didn't mind the work – he loved the horses – and he wasn't in the mood to head up to the house by himself. As he brushed Strawberry's coat, the horse whinnied softly, and he stroked the horse's velvety nose. Nearby, Trixie was working on making Lady comfortable, while Honey saw to cleaning the tack. He studied Trixie's profile, thinking of the conversation he'd had with Brian earlier, before the ride.

"So, Trix. I hear that my uncle's house wasn't the first one you waltzed into, accusing people of being tramps and thieves."

She turned to face him, blushing furiously. "Brian. You've been talking to Brian, haven't you?"

"Yep."

"Don't get used to being best pals with Brian, 'cause I'm going to kill him when I get home!"

Jim laughed. "Don't worry. I think he was just doing his brotherly duty by making sure my opinion of you doesn't get too high. I hear it gets lonely living on top of a pedestal."

She shook her head, but she smiled. "That was the most back-handed compliment I've ever heard , even from Mart. If you wanted to tell me you think I'm swell, why don't you just say it?"

"I never said his brotherly plan worked. If anything, knowing I'm not the first poor fellow to be accused of trampery and thievery makes me feel a little bit better."

Honey giggled. "I don't think 'trampery' is a word. I Iike it, though."

Finishing with Lady's grooming, Trixie led the gray mare into her stall. She stood on tiptoe to give the gray nose a kiss. "You're a sweet horse, Lady. I'm sorry I ever had my head turned by that fellow." She tossed her blond head in the direction of Jupiter, who was contentedly snacking on some fresh oats in his stall nearby. "You have lovely manners. He's a handsome devil, but a bit of a cad."

Honey smiled at her friend's antics and joined in. "Don't you listen to her, Jupiter. You're a perfect gentleman. You didn't throw her on purpose. It's not your fault. We don't have to listen to those two maligning your character!" She pulled a carrot from the bin of vegetables and fed it to the big horse.

The three friends finished taking care of the horses and headed up the Manor House. As they passed by the kitchen door, a small, gray shape darted out of nowhere and slammed into Jim's shins, purring rather violently. It was the mother cat he and Trixie had rescued. Nearby, her kittens rolled over each other, mewing and play-fighting. The cats had first been kept in the Belden garage, but the Manor House staff had managed to lure the feline family away with frequent feedings and lots of scratching. Celia and Cook were mad about the tiny little kittens, and one of them was already promised to Tom Delanoy, who was undoubtedly adopting the kitten as much for Celia as for himself. Miss Trask and Regan had set up a comfortable box for the small family in an outbuilding that had once been some kind of gardening shed near the garage. After the kittens had been found homes, they intended to have the mother cat fixed and continue to offer her a good home.

Bending down to give in to the aggressively cuddly demands of the gray cat, Jim scratched her ears until she rolled over, and then picked her up to scratch under her chin. "Hi there, mama cat. You're just not happy to call it a day until you've rammed your head into somebody's legs hard enough to bowl them over, are you?" In answer, the cat purred ecstatically, and wiggled to be put down. He obliged, and the gray cat moved on to the next victim. She flung herself at Trixie's shins and repeated her demands. She then moved on to Honey, who picked her up and stroked her ears gently.

"She's such a sweet kitty and a good little mother. She makes sure all of the kittens are in the box each night, and if anyone escapes, she carries them back in her mouth. I just can't hardly look at her without thinking of you nearly getting bitten by a copperhead, though." She shuddered, gripping Trixie's hand.
"To think, I wasn't even around to help you!"

Jim patted the cat's head. "You sure picked a heck of a place to raise a family, didn't you? I'd tell you to pick a better place next time, but there won't be a next time if Miss Trask has anything to say about it. Your days as a mom cat are numbered, missy!"

Leaving the cat with her babies, they made their way to the veranda and sat on the glider. Honey was the first to speak. "We all three talk to animals like they're people. We've got that in common. No matter how many new friends we make at school, we'll always have that. Our Dr. Doolittle tendencies!"

Trixie and Jim both laughed. "I know you'll both make all kinds of friends at school. Honey, you're so pretty all the girls will want to be friends with you and the boys will be crazy about you. Jim – you'll wow them all with your woods knowledge and didn't you say you were trying out for the basketball team with Brian?"

He nodded. "I'm basically going to be glued to Brian at least for the first day. Wheresoever goeth Brian, there also shall go Jim. I'll admit it – I'm chicken."

Trixie scowled. "That sounded like something Mart would say. He's got some kind of annoying book about speaking Shakespearean English or something like that. He's already rubbing off on you. It's just not fair."

"I'm chicken too," Honey announced. "I'm just scared to death – what if nobody likes me? In books, kids are always getting bullied by older kids or mean girls or something. What if that happens to me?"

"First off, I've been in school in Sleepyside my whole life and nothing like that has ever happened to me. And, you're much more tactful and less likely to put your foot in your mouth than I am. Second of all, your big brother wouldn't let anyone bully you. You'll have me, and you'll have Jim. And Brian and Mart, not that he'd be good for anything other than talking a bully to death. I'll take care of any mean girls, and Jim can handle any bullies, right?"

He nodded firmly. "No reason to fear, sis. You're going to be fine. Miss Trask says you were a good student when you went to boarding school. I'm sure you will be here too."

The glider rocked back and forth, and the three teenagers looked out over the lawn down to the lake, where the sun was starting to head toward the horizon. The air still felt like summer, but on Monday they would start school, and their summer would be over.

Jim took a deep breath and relaxed on the glider. The air was warm, but somehow felt … different. Somehow, it was just easier to breathe than it had been for years. He had a brand new full-blooded adopted sister on his left and the fascinating, energetic girl next door on his right. Inside the enormous house he could now call home were adoptive parents who had cared enough about him to take him in, Miss Trask who had done so much to make him comfortable and happy, and his own room, filled with his own things and a soft, comfortable bed – better than a mattress full of money to sleep on, any day. Down in the hollow was Crabapple Farm, where the Beldens were already like a second family to him. He couldn't believe that in one summer, one incredible summer of change that he had left Jonesy and Albany behind, found and lost Uncle James, met Trixie and Honey, run away, worked on a farm, thwarted criminals near Autoville, been found by Trixie and Honey, and summarily adopted by the Wheelers.

Next to him on the glider, Trixie spoke softly, "Honey's fallen asleep."

His brand new sister had leaned back and drifted off, her head hovering inches above his shoulder. Gently, he eased her head down to rest against his arm.

"I think you've got the big brother thing down really good, Jim." Trixie leaned her head back against the glider, looking up at the sky that was beginning to turn reddish gold with the sunset. She let out a big sigh. "Gleeps! What a summer! I can't believe it's over. Everything did end up turning out exactly the way I hoped they would, though. We found you, we got to keep you, and I actually got to find a real hidden treasure!"

He turned his head to face her, careful not to dislodge his sleeping sister. "You're a pretty swell girl, Trixie Belden."

A startled expression widened her china blue eyes. "What?"

"You told me earlier if I wanted to tell you that you were swell, I should just come out and say it, so I am. You, Trixie Belden, are swell. "

She blushed slightly, but met his gaze with a smile. "You too, Jim. You too."