The Mystery in Arizona

An Invitation • 1

    TRIXIE CLUTCHED her short blond curls with both hands.
    “Never,” she said dolefully to her best friend, Honey Wheeler, “have I been so miserable in all the thirteen years of my life.”
    Honey s wide hazel eyes were full of sympathy. “It can t be as bad as that,” she said. “Just what did our guidance counselor tell your parents, anyway?”
    “I don’t like to think about it,” Trixie moaned. They had met in the locker room of the school for a hurried conference between classes. Trixie had been longing to tell Honey the bad news ever since she had heard it the evening before, but it wasn’t something you could discuss over the phone. And she definitely had not felt like talking about such a subject on a crowded school bus.
    The girls lived on Glen Road, which was about two miles from the village of Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, and they traveled to and from the junior-senior high school by bus. The Wheelers and Honey’s adopted brother, Jim Frayne, lived in the Manor House, a huge estate which included acres of rolling lawns and woodland, a big lake, and a stable of horses. It formed the western boundary of Crabapple Farm, the Beldens’ property. Honey’s luxurious home was indeed a mansion, but Trixie preferred the small white frame house where she lived with her three brothers and their parents.
    The boys and girls belonged to a secret society and called themselves the B.W.G.’s, short for Bob-Whites of the Glen. Trixie’s six-year-old brother Bobby was not a member, but Brian, age sixteen, and Mart, who was eleven months older than Trixie, were treasurer and secretary respectively. Honey was the vice-president, and Trixie and Jim were co-presidents.
    Another B.W.G. was thirteen-year-old Diana Lynch. She had entered junior high that fall with Honey and Trixie and was considered the prettiest girl in the eighth grade. She had huge violet eyes and blue-black hair that flowed around her slim shoulders.
    Honey, who had earned her nickname because of her golden-brown hair, was almost as pretty as Di and got the best marks in the class. “Oh, please, Trixie,” she begged. “The bell will ring in a minute or two. What did Miss Jones tell your parents?”
    “It’s my marks.” Tears welled up into Trixie’s round blue eyes. “I’m not passing math and English. And it’s all your fault, Honey Wheeler. I would have spent more time studying if I hadn’t been having such fun up at your place skiing, sledding, and skating on the lake.”
    Honey smiled. “Cheer up, Trix. You’re awfully smart, really, so if you study hard you can bring your marks up before midyears.”
    “That’s just it,” Trixie moaned. “That’s just what I’ll have to do: study like mad from now on. Oh, don’t you see, Honey? It means that if Di’s uncle does ask us to spend the Christmas holidays at his dude ranch, I won’t be able to go. I’ll have to stay home and bone like a regular old bookworm!” Honey gasped. “Not go to Arizona? Oh, Trixie! You’ll have to go. The rest of us wouldn’t have any fun without you.”
    The bell rang then, and they hurried upstairs to join the boys and girls who were milling in the corridors. As miserable as she was, Trixie could still laugh at herself. It wasn’t really Honey’s fault, of course, and neither could she blame it on the weather. A cold snap during the Thanksgiving holidays had turned the Wheelers’ lake into a smooth sheet of ice; a week later a snowstorm had blanketed the hills and slopes, making them ideal for skiing and tobogganing. Trixie had spent every minute she could out in the crisp, cold air, which meant that at night she was too tired and sleepy to study.
    So now, with the beginning of the Christmas holidays only a week away, she felt miserable instead of glad. Everyone else would be having fun while she was at home trying to figure out participles and fractions. Frowning, she followed Honey into class.
    And, she reflected as she slid into her seat, I have only myself to blame.
    “Don’t look so blue,” whispered Honey from across the aisle. “We may not go to Arizona, after all.”
    But Trixie knew that they would go and leave her behind. A month ago, when Di’s Uncle Monty had asked them to spend the holidays at his dude ranch, it had seemed too good to be true. Then he verified the invitation in a letter to Di’s mother, who was his younger sister. But he hadn’t set any definite date, and three weeks had elapsed, to the