The Mystery at Maypenny's

to speak over a hum of voices. “I am not going to comment on what happened here today,” he said. “The young man who just disrupted our debate has been taken into police custody, and I hope that the full story will come out in a court of law. Obviously, we cannot ask our four debaters to continue under these circumstances. We ask that you remain here until the bell rings, then proceed to your next class. Thank you.”
    Mr. McLane turned and walked quickly off the stage, and the uproar in the auditorium began again. It seemed to Trixie that she and Honey must be the only ones in the room who were not talking about what had just happened.
    Honey nudged Trixie’s arm and nodded toward the stage. Following her gaze, Trixie saw that Todd, Mark, and Jim were clustered together, talking excitedly. Brian sat by himself at the table, slowly gathering up the notes and papers he had used during the debate.
    Tears welled in Trixie’s eyes as she realized how disappointed Brian must be. He had taken a big risk to make sure that the International Pine controversy would have an airing at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High. But after what had just happened, nobody would remember the facts and figures that he and Todd had put so much time and effort into gathering. John Score and the dead duck had wiped that out of everyone’s memory.
    Then Trixie’s chest tightened as she realized that there was another reason for Brian’s quietness. It was the Bob-Whites who had told John Score that the debate would be taking place. Trixie thought back to that night at Mr. Maypenny’s. No, she thought, it wasn't the Bob-Whites who told John Score about the debate. I was the one who mentioned it to him. She let out a groan.
    Honey reached over and squeezed her hand. “Brian will be all right,” she said, almost shouting to be heard above the other students’ talking.
    Trixie looked back at her best friend, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She bit her lower lip to keep her chin from trembling. If he is , she thought, it's no thanks to me.
    After school that afternoon, Brian assured his sister that he didn’t think it was her fault that John Score had ruined the debate. “You just gave him a piece of information, Trixie,” he said. “He was the one who decided how to use it. Blaming yourself for what he did would be like blaming a newspaper for encouraging bank robbers just because they report successful robberies.”
    Trixie tried to feel convinced, but she spent the evening alone in her room. She knew that the family would be talking about what had happened that afternoon, and she just didn’t want to hear anything more about it.
    Her sleep was troubled, filled with bad dreams about dead ducks and Mr. Maypenny being forced off his land. She awoke still feeling tired and went downstairs to breakfast slowly, without the energy she usually felt at the beginning of the -day.
    She found her family already gathered around the table for breakfast. Except for Bobby, who was playing with his cereal, they were all looking attentively at her father, who was reading to them from that day’s edition of the Sleepyside Sun.
    “ ‘After Score was wrestled off the stage by two faculty members, he was taken into custody by Sleepyside police,’ ” her father read. “ ‘He appeared in night court, where he was charged with disturbing the peace and fined seventy-five dollars.’ ”
    Trixie took her place at the table quietly so as not to disturb her father’s reading. Even though she wanted to avoid the subject of the debate, the curious part of her also wanted to know what had happened to John Score. And, as always, the curious part was winning out.
    “ ‘The judge also warned Score to leave the Sleepyside area immediately,’ ” her father continued. “ ‘He said he was issuing the warning for the sake of the young environmentalist, who has managed to divide public opinion and create a number of enemies during his short stay in the community. The judge said he felt Score would be in danger if he stayed in the area after the incident, and he added that if Score did not leave the area, he would be taken into custody for his own protection.’ ” Peter Belden set the paper on the table, looked around at his family, and turned his attention back to his bacon and eggs.
    “It looks as though we’ve seen the last of John Score,” Brian observed.
    “I certainly hope so,” Helen Belden said. “Not that I dislike the young man personally,”