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The Mystery at “Gleeps!” Trixie Belden exclaimed as she excitedly peered
out the window of the Wheelers’ private Canadair
jet onto the ground below. “Look at all those mountains down there. I hope
Bob can find a flat spot to land the plane on.” Jim Frayne cast a
fond glance in the sandy blonde’s direction. “I’m sure he knows what he’s
doing, Trix. Bob has been Dad’s pilot for several years and has landed planes
all over the world.” “Besides Trixie,
if he has any trouble, his co-pilot can straighten him out,” Di commented,
nodding toward the cockpit, which was separated from the cabin by a curtain.
“I talked to her before we took off, and Terry really knows her stuff.” “Well, I wouldn’t
mind if she gave me flying lessons,” Brian replied with
a grin. “Brian!” the girls
chorused. “What?” he
questioned innocently. “I just think she’s a good pilot. She must’ve had a
smart instructor.” “Whatever,” Trixie
giggled. “Does the pilot or
the co-pilot handle the landing?” Dan inquired with a slight tremor in his
voice as he looked way, way down at the ground below. “I don’t think it
matters,” Mart answered, pulling some brochures out of his duffel bag.
“Either one of them could do it.” “Are you sure?”
Brian questioned, his dark brows furrowed. “From what I’ve heard, landing’s
the most difficult part of flying. It’s more complicated than most people
think. One wrong move and KABOOM! Nothing left but charred
remains.” An audible gulp
could be heard from Dan’s seat. “Jeepers!” Trixie
burst out, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “I hope we don’t run out of gas before
we find someplace to land. From up here, I don’t see a single flat spot.” “We’ll make it to the
airport, Trix,” Jim assured her, amused by her seeming excitement at the
prospect of a crash landing. “Are you sure there’s an airport around here?”
Di asked, peering out of her window. “All I see are mountains and trees.” “Yes, there’s an
airport,” Mart told her. “It’s in Elkins. According to Map Quest, it’s about
thirty minutes from “It is really mountainy down there,” Honey
commented nervously, looking over Trixie’s shoulder to study the terrain. “How can you tell
what the ground looks like when we’re 25,000 feet in the air?” teased Jim.
“Do you have radar vision?” Honey stuck her
tongue out at her brother. “No, Mister Smarty-Pants, but if you take a look
out your window, it’s pretty obvious that we’re flying over the Appalachian
Mountain Range.” Dan peeked out his
window briefly, then quickly turned back to the
aisle of the airplane. After gripping the empty seat in front of him, he
added apprehensively, “Yep, those look like biiig mountains out there.” “Did you know that
“It is called the “Another nickname
is ‘Almost Heaven’,” Brian added. “I guess with all the mountains, you feel
closer to the Pearly Gates when you’re in “Or maybe it’s
harder for pilots to land here than they want to admit,” Trixie suggested
mischievously, “and before the plane crash lands and explodes, you’re almost in heaven.” Dan grew a little
green around the gills and fastened his seat belt, although Bob hadn’t given
them that particular warning yet. “The highest peak
of the “Maybe we can go there,” Di replied.
“I’ll bet we could take some nice pictures to take back to Mr. Wheeler.” “I thought the
website for the resort said that “It is. The
Appalachian Mountain Range extends from Québec to northern “Well, aren’t you
just a wealth of useless information,” Trixie commented with a roll of her
eyes. “That information
isn’t useless!” Di argued, casting admiring glances
at Trixie’s almost-twin. “Why, Mart’s just filled with all sorts of
interesting facts!” “He’s filled with
something,” Dan muttered, poking his seatmate in the gut with his elbow. In
spite of his current state of queasiness, he couldn’t resist such a plum
opportunity to rib Mart. “Of course, I always thought it was hot air…” “From whence fly
these fiery accusations?” Mart declared gallantly, feigning despondence. “I
merely answered our honey-haired constituent’s inquiry, regarding the precise
nomenclature of this vast precipitous region to which we sojourn. Frankly, I
am aghast at these erroneous statements made by both my feminine-esque sibling, and my choicest hail-fellow.” “I’m sure Daddy
would appreciate lots of pictures,” Honey placated, tactfully returning the
topic of conversation to their trip. “He’s so disappointed that he couldn’t
come. He and Mother were really looking forward to this vacation.” Mr. Wheeler was
considering buying a piece of property in The land he was considering had a
large cabin on it, and included ten acres of property where he and his guests
could hunt, ski or fish. He had made arrangements with a realtor to show him
the property over spring break so the Bob-Whites could accompany him and Mrs.
Wheeler. However, the Miss Trask, the faithful friend of
the Bob-Whites, volunteered to escort the teenagers to “What kind of activities are there
for us to do at the lodge?” Di asked. “According to these brochures, there
are lots of trails for hiking,” Brian answered. “There’s even a stable that
rents horses. That might be fun.” “If your dad buys property here,
maybe we could visit in wintertime,” Mart commented, studying the travel
brochure. “This area is known for its skiing. They have a bunch of downhill
trails, in addition to several cross-country ones.” “Ooh! We can rent bikes and ride
along some of the trails,” Honey murmured as she turned backwards in her seat
and peeked at the guide Brian held. “The lodge also has a game room, as
well as a pool and fitness center,” Jim added, looking over Brian’s shoulder. “Also we could drive to Canaan Valley
Resort, which is only about ten minutes away,” Mart mentioned. “They have a
golf course, as well as several other trails where we can hike.” “Do they have whitewater rafting?” Di
squealed, spying a picture on the cover. “I’ve always wanted to try that.” “Looks like it,” Mart told her,
studying the brochure. “This says they also offer kayaking, fishing, tennis,
a climbing wall, and bungee jumping.” “Bungee jumping!” Trixie exclaimed in
delight. “Now that’s something
we’ve never done.” “Bungee jumping?” Dan repeated warily,
growing a bit pale. “I think I’ll have to skip that.” “Aw, come on, Dan!” Di tittered.
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” “I left it at home,” he deadpanned. “I’ll
think I’ll just stand on the ground and wave as you bounce by.” Honey giggled and pointed to Miss
Trask, who was asleep several rows ahead of them. “I doubt we’ll do any
bungee jumping during this trip. I have a feeling that somebody wouldn’t approve of that particular activity.” Jim nodded his affirmation. “Bungee
jumping might be too dangerous. I don’t think Miss Trask would let us do it
without our parents’ permission.” “Yeah, squaw. You get into enough
trouble on the ground,” Mart snorted. “I’d hate to see what sort of
predicament you’d encounter bungee jumping. You’re an accident waiting to
happen, and that’s without dangling
from a precarious precipice, with only a flimsy rubber band keeping you from
plummeting to your gruesome death.” Trixie stuck her tongue out at her
almost-twin. “Thanks ever so much for that vote of confidence, brother of
mine. Your unwavering belief in me brings a tear to my eye.” “I’m going to have to side with Mart
on this one, Trix,” Brian said with a broad grin. “I think it would be best
to skip bungee jumping on this particular outing.” “I think Trixie would make a fabulous
bungee-jumper-person!” Honey declared loyally. “Why, she’s so bouncy, she
wouldn’t even need the cord.” “She could just use one of her
curls,” Jim teased, tugging on his favorite one. Trixie’s cheeks colored slightly pinkish,
as they did every time Jim tugged on “his” curl. “Is that a ski lift?” Di asked,
wrinkling her nose and pointing to a picture. “Looks like it,” Mart answered. “That’s a summer picture,” she
commented, a puzzled look clouding her pretty face. “I know that area is
known for its skiing, but surely they don’t have snow this time of year.” “They run their ski lift in the
summer as a scenic chair ride,” Brian corrected. “We could take a tour over
the entire resort and get the bird’s eye view.” Dan cleared his throat nervously, then whisked the stack of travel guides out of Mart’s
hand. “I’ll have to pass on that one, too.” “I think it sounds like fun,” Honey
replied. “I’d like to try it.” Trixie scrunched up her nose as she
pondered Dan’s words. “Gleeps, Dan! You don’t want
to do anything high u---” “Huh, looks like they have some caves
nearby,” Dan interrupted, nonchalantly changing the subject. “Wonder if they
have that fish that you told me about.” “I doubt it,” Jim told him. “If they
give tours in those caves, then the ghost fish couldn’t live in there. There
would be too much light.” “What caves are nearby?” Di
questioned. “I didn’t get to go to the Ozarks, so I’d like to explore one.” “Smokehole and Seneca Caverns,” Dan
answered, handing her the brochures over the seat. “According to this, they
give year-round tours.” “We might have to try that,” Jim
agreed, “especially since both Di and Dan didn’t get to go to the “But if she does, you’ll be there to
rescue her, won’t you, Jim?” Mart’s mischievous twinkling eyes belied his
innocent tone. “Sure I will,” Jim answered with a
wink to “his special girl”. Trixie blushed to the roots of her
sandy curls, and her crimson cheeks flamed even hotter when she peeked at
Jim’s lopsided grin. “I’ll go as long as there aren’t any
tour guides named Slim,” Honey giggled. “It seems every Slim we meet turns
out to be a crook.” “Well, if you’re working on another
case and run into any more Slims, you’ll know who did it,” Brian said with a
wink. A loud rumbling drew everyone’s
attention to Mart. He sank back in his seat, and with a sheepish smile asked,
“How much longer until we land?” “Do you mean: How much longer until
dinner?” teased Honey. “Judging by the turbulence we’ve been
experiencing, we should be landing soon,” Jim answered. “Uh… is turbulence what’s making the
plane shake?” Dan questioned, his face even paler
than it had been a few moments ago. “Or did something important fall out of
the engine?” “We’re fine, Dan,” Di replied,
innocently batting her violet eyes. “We just lost a turbine or two. We have a
whole ten minutes before we all die in a fiery explosion.” Dan gripped the seat in front of him
until his knuckles grew white. “Please tell me she’s teasing.” “She’s teasing,” Mart answered as he
rolled his bright blue eyes in exasperation. He studied his friend’s ashen
face, and then soberly added, “We’ll be dead from the impact of the crash
long before the plane explodes.” Dan groaned and doubled over. “You OK, dude?” Mart asked,
his earlier mirth turning into concern. “You look a bit green.” Dan held his hand over his mouth and
nodded. Digging in the magazine holder on the
back of the seat in front of him, Mart pulled out a Sick Sac and offered it
to his seatmate. “If you feel like you’re going to hurl, please ralph in this complimentary barf bag. I just bought these
sneakers, and I’d prefer for them to remain vomit-free.” Dan rolled his eyes. ”I’m not going
to pu---” As the plane hit another patch of
turbulence, he quickly snatched the Sick Sac out of Mart’s hand and held it
to his mouth. “What are you supposed to do before a
crash?” he gasped between deep breaths. “Stop, drop, and roll?” “That’s what you do if you catch on
fire,” Trixie corrected with a laugh. “You’re thinking of ‘assuming the crash
position’.” Dan looked up nervously as Trixie
demonstrated the aforementioned position. He quickly mimicked her actions and
tucked his head down between his knees. “We’re not going to crash!” Jim
exclaimed in a less-than-amused tone. He cast a scolding look at Mart. “Quit
razzing him.” “It’s extremely common to experience
turbulence before you land, Dan,” Honey assured him. “Especially in these
smaller jets.” “Are you sure you’re okay, Danno?” Brian inquired as he watched their friend grow
steadily paler with each passing second. “Do we need to make an emergency
landing?” Dan shook his head quickly, his eyes
pleading desperately that any thoughts of an emergency landing be forgotten. “Wow,” murmured Jim in amazement as
he studied Dan’s ashen complexion. “I’ve never seen anyone look that green before.” “Why, Dan ‘the Man’ Mangan!” Trixie
exploded with a saucy grin. “Do my eyes deceive me, or are you having a panic
attack?” Dan sat up, muttering unintelligible
insults under his breath. If he hadn’t had a death grip on the back of the
empty seat beside Di, he might have been tempted to throw in a gesture or two
as well. “Surely big, tough, bad boy Danny
isn’t afraid to fly?” Honey teased with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. “Of course not!” Di exclaimed, her
own violet eyes wide with feigned innocence. “A bad hombre like Danny Boy
wouldn’t be terrified of flying thousands of miles in the air, with nothing
but clouds holding him up.” The unintelligible muttering turned
into a muffled squeak as a mental image consumed Dan’s thoughts. He
frantically banged on the compartment that held the oxygen mask. “Oxygen!” he gasped, his breathing
ragged. “I need a snoot of oxygen.” “The flight attendant, or in this
case the pilot, has to release those, Dan,” Trixie informed him impatiently. “Just breathe in and out of your barf
bag,” Honey instructed in a soothing tone. “You’ll be okay.” “Unless the cabin pressure drops and
the oxygen masks get stuck,” Di commented nonchalantly as she studied her
French manicure. “Oh, God!” Dan prayed, animatedly
crossing himself repeatedly. Trixie, Honey and Di pointed at him
as they doubled over in laughter. “Dan’s afraid of flying; Dan’s afraid of
flying,” Trixie chanted. Honey and Di soon joined in the chorus, and the
three girls repeated the phrase several times in a sing-song voice. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian finally
interrupted with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Dan’s not afraid of
airplanes. He’s flown lots of times, haven’t you, Dan?” “Yeah,” Mart nodded. He might be allowed to tease his best
friend, but there would be heck to pay if anyone else did. “Like when we went
to “That was before Dan moved to
Sleepyside,” Trixie informed him with a smug grin. “He didn’t go on that
trip.” “Well, how about when we went to “Nope.” Honey shook her head. “I
believe he had to be tutored during that vacation.” Mart scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“I know! How about when we went to the Ozarks and stayed with Uncle Andrew in
his cabin there?” “We talked about this earlier, Mart,”
Di reminded him sweetly. “Dan and I both had to miss that trip. I think I was
in “Didn’t he go to “Nope,” Trixie corrected with a
satisfied smile. “Much to my *cough,
cough* dear cousin Hallie’s dismay, Dan had to
spend that week working as a camp counselor.” “So Dan hasn’t ever flown?” Jim asked incredulously. He looked at Dan to answer
the question; however, Dan looked a bit too nauseous to be bothered. Honey chewed on her lower lip, then spoke up. “Oh! He did fly once--- to “Are you sure?” Mart furrowed his
sandy brows as he tried to remember. “I thought for sure that he had to chop
some wood or something…” “No, I’m the one who missed Mart nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. I seem
to remember Dan being along for that trip.
So see there? Dan has flown
before.” Trixie crossed her arms and smiled
slyly. “Yes, my dear almost-twin, but do you remember anything about the
plane ride to and from “That’s ridiculous!” Jim sputtered
indignantly. “Dan’s not afraid of flying.” “I remember that!” Honey exclaimed in
surprise, ignoring Jim’s statement. “At the time, I thought he was just
exhausted from chopping wood, when actually, Daddy gave him something to make
him sleep. It all makes perfectly perfect sense now.” “Mr. Wheeler wouldn’t dope him up!”
Brian argued, exasperation marring his handsome features. After a slight
pause, he raised a wary brow and added, “Would he?” Honey shrugged. “Sometimes Mother
takes a high-powered Valium before a long trip.” “But he wouldn’t give Mother’s pills
to Dan,” Jim contended stubbornly. “Well, maybe Dr. Fer---”
Honey began. “It doesn’t matter because it’s not
true,” Mart blurted out in defense of his best friend. “Tell her, Dan. Tell her
you’re not afraid to fly.” “Yeah, tell us, Dan,” Trixie prompted
with a saucy grin. “Deep down, I always knew if Dan had chopped as much wood
as he claimed, that the preserve wouldn’t have any trees left,” Di commented
wisely. The small cabin was abuzz with six of
the seven Bob-Whites rapidly stating their views all at the same time.
Finally, Dan sat upright and held up his hands in an effort to quiet them. In
a last ditch effort to calm them, he pursed his lips and gave a shrill Bob! Bob-White! “Okay, I admit it. I’m afraid of
flying. Now can you all just shut up and let me spend my final moments alive
in silence!” A hush fell over the crowd. Of
course, after two minutes, Mart could remain silent no more. “Next time Dan flies, we’re taking
the Mr. T approach,” he chortled. “Knock him out, throw him in a seat, and
buckle him in.” “Do it and die, Belden,” Dan growled
threateningly. Suddenly, the plane hit another patch of turbulence, and his
tune changed faster than a jukebox’s. “Knock me out, Mart! Knock me out!” he
pleaded desperately, clutching the neck of Mart’s orange polo shirt. The girls found Dan’s fear immensely
humorous. Once again, they doubled over in a fit of giggles. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell everyone that
‘Dan the Man’ is afraid of flying,” Trixie gasped, leaning on Honey’s
shoulder for support. “Here we thought he was so tough,”
Honey wheezed, wiping a tear. Then she continued in a falsetto voice, “I’ve gotta chop wood! I’ve gotta be
a camp counselor. I’ve gotta patrol the preserve.” Di’s face was red from the lack of
oxygen caused by her constant giggling. “Trixie, we HAVE to call Hallie when we get to the resort!” Dan jerked his head up and stared
menacingly at the three girls. “Hallie doesn’t need to know about this.” “Of course she does, Dan,” Trixie
tittered. “My *cough, cough* dear
cousin thinks you were ignoring her by not coming to “Wait a minu---”
Dan began. He attempted to discreetly wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead
as the jet hit another patch of turbulence. “Why, Dan Mangan, is that perspiration I see?” Di leaned over the
back of her seat and reached out to touch Dan’s sweaty forehead. “Hey, quit it,” he
snapped at her as he swatted away her hand. “I think it’s a
little chilly in here,” Honey commented. “You aren’t hot, are you? Or maybe
you’re perspiring from fear? Haven’t you ever heard that commercial, Dan?”
She assumed a deep bass voice. “Don’t ever let ‘em
see ya’ sweat.” Dan closed his
eyes, leaned his head against the window, and pretended to fall asleep. After
a moment or so, he warily stood and began trying to lift the emergency life
preserver out of the seat. “That floatation
device’s not gonna help you if we crash into the
mountains,” Trixie replied, an impish twinkle in her china blue eyes. Honey dug into her
expensive Gucci purse and found a handkerchief with a delicate “M.G.W.”
embroidered on it. “Here, Dan. You can wipe your perspiration with this.” She
offered him the hanky across the aisle, but he was too busy trying to
dislodge his seat cushion to take it. Mart groaned and
rolled his eyes. “Lay off him, squaws. And by the way, we’re guys. We don’t perspire; we sweat.” Trixie snickered
from her seat across the aisle from Di. “Is that another one of those terms
that men get all defensive about?” “What’s wrong with perspiring?” Honey
asked curiously. “Perspiring is for
sissies,” Jim explained as if it should have been obvious. “When we go out
and hike in the woods, we sweat.” “And then you
stink,” Trixie giggled, turning around in her seat to look at Jim. She tucked
her legs under her, and faced the back of the plane. “Yes. Yes, we do,” Brian agreed adamantly. “We
sweat, we stink, and we’re proud of it.” “Sweat, perspire,
what’s the difference?” Di flipped her black hair off her shoulders and
shrugged. “It’s all gross.” “There’s a big difference,” Mart snorted. “You
girls need to learn that those of us of the masculine variety have a certain
standard by which we live our lives. According the fraternal code, we of the
manly gender do not perspire. When we exercise, potent, testosterone-filled
molecules of sweat emanate from our studly forms.” “Studly, pudly,” Trixie sniffed
indifferently. “Guys get too worked up over stupid little names.” “Yeah, don’t be so
nitpicky.” Honey rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Daddy’s manly and he
perspires. And so does Mr. Belden. And Mr. Lynch may have even perspired too,
a long time ago, before he was quite so jolly and quit exercising.” The boys stared at
the girls, their mouths agape in horror. “I don’t care how rich Dad is, he still sweats when he jogs,” Jim stated
adamantly, his emerald green eyes shooting fiery darts. “He sweats and he
stinks. Really bad, too.” “And don’t insult
us Beldens like that,” Brian argued angrily. “Peter Belden has never ‘perspired’ a day in his life. Do you
think he wears pink panties?” “We’ve never
really thought about what kind of underwear Dad wears, have we ladies?”
Trixie waited for her friends to back her up. However, Honey and Di were
strangely silent. Honey nervously twisted a strand of honey-colored hair and
Di covered her mouth with a well-manicured hand. Trixie groaned,
slapping her forehead with her hand. “What’s the difference?” she finally
exclaimed after realizing her friends were exercising their Fifth Amendment
rights. “Is this another one of those ‘thlumber
party’ things?” “Yes,” Jim
affirmed in a serious tone, “yes, it is. It’s an attack on our manhood to say
that we ‘perspire’. You might
as well castrate us now.” Brian motioned to
his three male friends. “We are
men.” He individually pointed to Trixie, Di, and Honey. “You are women. There are certain differences between the two
sexes that cannot be disputed.” “We learned those
differences in kindergarten, Brian,” Trixie snorted, with a roll of her eyes.
“Actually, I learned them in the bathtub with Mart when we were two- and
three-years old.” “Our differences
go beyond genitalia,” Mart explained sagely. “We robust, virile stallions
have a masculine code, which includes certain guidelines to which we must
adhere at all times.” “Oh, great,”
Trixie muttered under her breath. “Here comes another lesson in the ‘isms of
the brotherhood’.” “For example,” Jim
began, “guys do not ‘fix their hair’. We comb it.” “Sometimes, we’re
too lazy to comb it,” Brian pointed out. “If we’re in a hurry, we just wash
it, rub it with a towel and say, ‘Hey, that’s as good as it gets’.” “And sometimes we
don’t even do that,” Mart went on. “Sometimes, we just stick a hat on and
go.” He pointed to his own baseball cap as proof. “And when our hair
gets too long, we don’t have ‘hair appointments’,” Jim added emphatically.
“We go to the barber and get it cut.” Di’s violet eyes
grew wide with wonder. “You really don’t have hair appointments, Jim?” Her
sympathetic tone made all the ‘men’ cringe and become defensive. “No frosting, no
tipping, no perming, no extensions,” Brian
clarified. “Just buzz it, cut
it, wash it, maybe comb it… That’s it,” Mart stated, crossing his arms in
finality. Dan looked up at
them weakly. “And no sparkly butterfly clips,” he added, looking pointedly at
Di. “Furthermore,
there’s no facials, no manicures, no hot oil treatments,” Jim went on. “No tweezing, no
plucking, no waxing,” Brian continued. “Just slap some
shaving cream on, rake a dull, rusty razor over your cheeks and, in spite of
the stinging, apply some aftershave,” Mart put in. “And none of that
‘girly-smelling’ aftershave. Something rugged and woodsy.” Dan looked up once
more. “And we don’t use that Nair crap, either.” Simultaneously,
the girls leaned back in their seats, wiggled their legs around, then hoisted them up in the air. “But Nair is so very…” “Girly!” the boys
piped loudly. “Well, I can
understand about not using Nair,” Trixie replied. “But I still don’t see why
guys don’t perspire. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Medical Student,
but it is a medical term, common to
both sexes.” Brian sniffed in a
male-dominant way then crossed his arms. “That’s easy to explain, little
sister. All the medical books are written by women in a conspiracy to remove
distinction between the sexes.” Honey groaned and
shook her head in disbelief. “Sure, Oliver Stone. Next you’ll be telling us
that the shooter on the grassy knoll was a girl.” “No, we won’t,” Mart replied with a smirk.
“We know that girls can’t shoot.” “Girls can shoot
just as good as boys,” Trixie argued heatedly. “Even though you only taught
us a year or two ago, we can shoot a rifle just as good as you, Mart Belden.” “Says you,” her
almost-twin needled. Squaring her shoulders and welcoming
the challenge, Trixie persisted, “If you have any doubts about our ability,
let’s go to this skeet shoot thing at Something between
a chuckle and a snort erupted from Mart. “Ah, you lazy squaws would be better
off spending your time in the beauty shop.” His chuckle/snort
quickly turned into a gasp. He covered his head with his arms as Trixie,
Honey and Di began pummeling him with the travel guides they had in their
hands. “Hey! You’re
bending them!” he cried as he tried to snatch them out of the girls’ grasps. “Let me see when
the skeet shoot is!” Trixie argued. Finally Mart managed to place his fingers
on the top of the brochure she held. RIIIP!!! Trixie gasped in
surprise, but her gasp quickly turned into a muffled giggle. “Oh, did you
want this back, Mart?” she inquired innocently as she handed him her half of
the travel guide. “Look what you
did,” he muttered as he studied the mangled halves of paper he held in his
hands. “You ripped it in half. Now I need a new one.” Jim swiftly
snatched the remaining brochures out of Honey and Di’s hands while he glared
at Mart and Trixie. “We’ll get you a new one when we land. Now shut up.
You’re going to wake up Miss Trask, and we don’t need a grumpy chaperone.” “Let’s go to this
skeet shoot thing, Mart Belden,” Trixie hissed in a quieter voice, pointing
to the advertisement on the “Forget about it,
Trix,” Brian advised. “I will not forget about it.” Trixie stiffened
as she glared at her middle brother. “You’re going down, Mart Belden.” “Oh, I’m sweating now,” Mart chortled. With a flourish,
Di pulled a dark orchid lacy handkerchief out of her Louis Vuitton handbag. Before Mart could bat an eye, she had
wiped his forehead with it. “Nope, no manly molecules of sweat. That’s
perspiration.” “Let the record show that that a bead
of ‘perspiration’ has never oozed out of the pores of the
Bob-White males,” Brian sputtered, his voice becoming louder. “The
astronomical amount of testosterone in our sweat makes it fall in heavy drops
when we’re hot. Science can’t even explain why our sweat is so potent.” “And if we didn’t use deodorant, our
manly musk would drive you insane,” Jim replied arrogantly. “You wouldn’t be
able to keep your hands off our glistening torsos.” “Puuh-lease,”
Trixie sniffed indignantly with a toss of her sandy curls, trying not to let
her mind dwell on the thought of Jim’s sweaty torso. Brian pointed his index finger at
them. “Don’t underestimate the power of our masculine scent.” Clasping her hands together beside her
chin, Honey gushed, “Oh my! I can’t help myself! I’m falling under the power
of the pheromones. Trixie, stop me now or I’ll rip my clothes off and have my
evil way with this sweaty lumberjack.” “And all this time,” Di giggled, “I
thought it was body odor, and here I find out it’s
pheromones.” “Sure, laugh all you want now, but
just wait until a sweaty sheen covers our body after a long hike,” Jim stated
with his lethal lopsided grin. “Women will be ripping our clothes off.” Honey wrinkled her nose. “Eewww! Like we want to see sweaty nekkid
Jim!” After a quick glance at Mart, Di
nodded her head. “Yeah.” Out of the corner of her eye, Honey
could see that Trixie was in deep thought. And judging from the faraway look
in her eyes, it was some thought.
Coming to her best friend’s rescue, Honey swiftly poked her in the ribs with
her elbow, and without moving her mouth, prompted, “Me either.” Trixie jerked her head up and
plastered a smile on her face. “Me either!” “Is that a challenge?” Jim
questioned, his emerald eyes locking with Trixie’s sapphire ones. “To see nekkid
Jim?” she squeaked out with a nervous swallow. “No, to see if we sweat or perspire!”
Brian bellowed indignantly. “I think this calls for some sort of
strategy, men,” Mart declared bravely. “A diabolical plan that will forever
prove to these naïve females that we don’t perspire; we sweat.” “A pie-eating contest?” Trixie
suggested wryly. “A paper-pushing challenge?” Honey
proposed sweetly. “A yodeling tournament?” Di offered,
managing to keep a straight face. Jim stared at the three females, his
green eyes shooting daggers at them. “Men, this calls
for a conference. No girls allowed.” He stood and walked to the front of the
plane nearer to where Miss Trask was sitting. Brian followed, carefully studying
his sister and her two friends. “And no eavesdropping,” he warned ominously.
“This is a manly huddle and nobody with breasts is allowed.” The girls stifled a giggle at hearing
Brian say the word “breasts,” then began whispering amongst themselves in the aisle of the plane. “A-hem!” Mart cleared his throat.
“Please step aside, ladies. My Irish compatriot and I require passage.” He
yanked on his seatmate’s arm. “Come on, Dan!” Dan seemed quite leery of leaving the
safe confines of his seat. However, after grabbing his life preserver from
its compartment and holding it closely to his chest, he hesitantly followed
Mart. He attempted a manly expression.
“Only those with a Y chromosome are allowed,” he admonished sternly. Trixie, Honey and Di all stuck out their
tongues as he passed. Once he had joined the group, the boys placed their
arms around each others’ necks, much like a football huddle. Occasionally,
one of the guys would peek out to make sure that the girls weren’t listening. The three girls assumed a similar
position. “What are we doing?” whispered Honey. “We’re pretending to have a
conference,” Trixie replied quietly. “So ignore them and whisper.” “What about?” Di questioned in her
lowest voice. “It doesn’t matter,” Trixie answered softly.
“Just make it look good.” “Oh, I get it,” Honey exclaimed, then
covered her mouth in embarrassment. She continued, but this time much
quieter. “We’re just making them think that we’re talking about something
important.” “Exactly,” Trixie smiled slyly. “Ah,” Di nodded knowingly. “This is
all a farce. We’re just making them perspire,
wondering what we’re talking about.” Trixie and Honey covered their mouths
with their hands to stifle their giggles. “You need to learn this stuff, Di,”
Trixie whispered. “With two twin brothers AND
Bobby hanging around your house, you’ll need to become familiar with these
types of maneuvers.” Di grinned wickedly. “I’ll be sure
and remember this tactic. Now, don’t I look like I’ve said something utterly
evil and diabolical?” Trixie and Honey giggled again. “You catch on fast,” Honey tittered. The girls were so wrapped up in their
own conversation that they didn’t hear the boys approach. All together, the
guys cleared their throats. “Pardon us,” Jim replied in a
dignified voice. “Our meeting has been adjourned, and we need to sit down.
We’ll be landing soon.” The girls primly reclaimed their own
seats, allowing the boys to walk past them. Once they were all seated, Di asked,
“Oh, ye manly men with the elusive Y chromosome, what fate awaits we of the
feminine species?” “After careful deliberation, we have
decided upon the most effective method to prove our point,” Brian declared in
a scholarly manner. “By the end of this week, I’m sure
we’ll all be in agreement that men do not perspire; they sweat,” Jim replied
with a satisfied smile. “This is totally ridiculous!” Trixie
threw her hands up in exasperation. “Bite your tongue, Trixie,” Honey
scolded gently. “Let’s hear what they have planned for us.” “I believe Mart has been chosen as
our speaker,” Dan told them as he gestured to his seatmate. “Please take the
floor, Professor Belden.” “Thank you, Master Mangan,” Mart
answered. Di giggled in delight. “This should
be good.” She leaned forward against the back of her seat and craned her ear
to Mart, who sat directly behind her. “In response to our
testosterone-challenged constituents’ claims, we shall prove conclusively
that sweat emanates from the glands of the male species of the Homo sapiens,”
Mart elucidated grandly. “Therefore, we have elected to forego usage of the
compound aluminum zirconium pentachlorohydrex
mingled with the base of cyclopentasiloxane, stearyl alcohol, ether, castor oil, mysristyl
myristate, silica dimethyl
silylate, fragrance, and silica.” Noticing Trixie, Honey and Di’s “deer
in the headlights” expressions, Brian loosely translated, “Deodorant.” Honey scrunched up
her face in disgust. “You’re not going to wear deodorant? Eewww!” “None at all?”
Trixie questioned as she stared in consternation. “Not a bit,” Jim
said firmly. “For how long?” Di
asked. “All week,” Mart
answered smugly. Trixie snarled her
lip. “According to the Weather Channel, it’s supposed to get pretty hot in “Great,” Dan smiled.
He leaned back in his seat with his hands clasped behind his head. “You know,
this is my favorite way to sit. Just think about how pungent my underarms
will be this week after a long hike through the woods.” Honey grimaced. “Ummm… “Then we’re going
to the perfect place to conduct our experiment,” Jim said with a grin. “More
humidity means we’ll sweat more.” “And stink more,”
Mart added with a waggle of his sandy brows. Di wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I
don’t know about Honey and Trixie, but I’m convinced. Men don’t perspire;
they sweat. No need to reek for our benefit.” “Too late,” Brian
told her. “We’ve made a pact, and it’s too late to turn back now. By the end
of this vacation, you’ll see how real men sweat.” “Oh, I didn’t know
Ned Shultz was coming along,” Trixie commented cattily. “If anyone sweated,
it would be ‘The Sheik’.” Jim clenched his
jaw at the mention of the handsome basketball player from Trixie cleared her
throat. “Excuse me, Frayne, but as co-president,
I’m going to have to veto that decision.” Jim smiled slyly,
and then nodded his head. “Fair enough, Madam Co-President. Of course, since
we have differing opinions about this matter, I believe this
calls for a vote. All in favor of this being
‘no-deodorant-for-the-guys’ week, say aye.” “Aye,” Jim, Brian,
Mart, and Dan chorused. “Any opposed?” Jim
offered. “Aye!” Trixie,
Honey, and Di chimed shrilly. Jim grinned and
shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sorry, girls, but it’s “Miss Trask didn’t
vote!” Honey sputtered, pointing to their chaperone, sleeping near the front
of the plane. “Miss Trask isn’t
a Bob-White,” Dan pointed out. “She can’t vote.” “All in favor of
making Miss Trask an honorary Bob-White say aye,” Trixie proposed quickly. “Aye!” the three
girls yelled. “All opposed?” Jim
questioned. “Aye!” the four
boys grunted. Di sat back in her
seat, her pretty lips forming a perfect pout. “It’s not fair. Why, this club is
just sexist! The girls are outnumbered four to three, so we can’t win.” “It’s all Dan’s
fault,” Trixie grumbled. “We were even until he joined. Whose stupid idea was
it to ask him to be a Bob-White anyway?” Mart attempted to
keep the grin off his face as he looked at his almost-twin. “Why my dear
Beatrix, if my photographic memory serves me correctly, I do believe that it
was your idea to invite Esquire
Mangan to become a member of our club, toots.” Trixie scowled at
her middle brother. “Well, if any of you he-men start smelling like Pigpen
from the Peanuts cartoon, Honey, Di, and I will hold
you down and force some Speed Stick under your putrid armpits.” The four boys sat
back in their seats with satisfied expressions on their faces. “I wouldn’t look
so smug if I were you,” Honey warned. “And you’d better enjoy our presence
now, because once the flies start swarming, we don’t know you.” “Definitely no
group hugs on this trip,” Di vowed, much to Mart’s disappointment. The conversation
abruptly ended as Bob Murphy’s voice came over the intercom. “Everyone needs
to buckle their seatbelts. We’re nearing The Bob-Whites
hurried to obey the pilot’s command. Honey thoughtfully called to Miss Trask
and woke her up so she could buckle her belt. As the plane began
its descent, Dan gripped the seat’s armrest until his knuckles turned white. “You OK?” Mart
questioned, critically studying his friend. Dan shook his head
vigorously back and forth. “You need a Sick
Sac?” Once again, Dan
shook his head. |
