August 21, 1962

The Mysterious Leap

The winds of time flew through Sam�s hair as a flash of bright blue and white light blinded his vision. Light as air, he floated in the small room for a few seconds. The last thing he remembered was hearing the words of his brightly dressed, holographic friend and partner, Al: �Good-bye Sam.�

As Sam slowly came back to consciousness, he focused his eyes on what he hoped would possibly be his wife or home. Instead, six teens sitting around a large conference table stared at him as if they were expecting something.

�Jim,� the teenage girl with blonde curly hair started, �are you going to sit there all day, or are you going to tell us your news?� She sat at his left at the head of the table

Sam looked around the table. Everyone was waiting for him to say something. �Tell you what?� Sam wished he knew where Al was. He�d be able to tell him where he was and what was going on.

The blonde girl frowned at him. �Jim, you called this emergency meeting because you got a letter from Mr. Stratton. You know, about the sign outside Sleepyside Junior Senior High?�

Sam looked bewildered. Al, where the heck are you! He nervously looked down at his hands. There was no letter there. Next he patted his pockets. His hands shook as the other teens continued to stare at him. �I� I think I left it at home. I� I was in such a hurry to get here, I forgot it.� He stood up from the table and rushed to the door. On the way, he passed a small mirror, which he happened to glance into.

Instead of the tall, blond haired, blue-eyed Dr. Samuel Beckett staring back, he saw a teenager with red hair and green eyes.

�Oh boy,� he gulped as he looked at the other teens and back at himself again. Within a second he darted out the door.

Sam stood outside the door and looked both ways. He had no idea which way to go. �Al?� he lightly called out and looked around. As Sam peeked around the corner of the small house, he heard a voice from behind him.

�There you are, Sam,� Al said. �Gooshie had me wandering around some old, burnt up ruins. He said he was sure that you were there.�

Sam was happy to see the only face familiar to him anymore. �Al,� he whispered. �I gotta know who I am and who those six kids are in there.� He gestured towards the small house.

Al stuck his cigar in his mouth and tapped a few buttons on his com-link. �Okay, let�s see�oh yes. It�s August 21, 1962 Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, New York. Your name is Jim Frayne and you are�� Al blinked his eyes as he read the information on the LCD readout. �Ziggy says you�re a bird.� Both man and hologram exchanged glances. �It says you are a bobwhite, Sam. What can I say? I mean, it�s not the first time you�ve leapt into an animal.�

�Al,� Sam said as he put his hands on his hips. �I�m not a bird. You�re reading that thing wrong.�

Al shook the com-link and smacked it with his hand. �Oh, well this makes more sense. Sam, you are a bobwhite, but not in the sense of a bird. You belong to a club made up of teenagers called The Bob-Whites of the Glen, or BWG for short, and this building is their clubhouse. You are seventeen-years-old and are the adopted son of Mathew and Madeleine Wheeler. You live in a man--,� Al jiggled the com-link � �a mansion called Manor House.�

�Okay, so what do I have to do to leap out of here?�

�Your Swiss Cheese memory keeps forgetting one thing, Sam,� replied Al. �Gooshie still is in the middle of research. We�re not sure yet.�

Sam looked back toward the small building. �One of the kids in there said that I had news about a sign for the school. Would either you or Gooshie know what that�s all about?�

�Uh�� Al began as he punched a few keys on his com-link. �Okay, this club, the Bob-Whites of the Glen, is well known in New York for organizing fund raisers for charity or repair work for the community. You, or Jim that is, just received a litter�� Al smacked the com-link again. �A letter, excuse me. A letter from the principal of Sleepyside Junior-Senior High in regards to the sign, which was vandalized a few days ago. The letter is in your club jacket pocket.�

Sam put his hand into the pocket of the red jacket he wore and pulled out a letter addressed to the Bob-Whites of the Glen, Mr. James Frayne. �So these kids are putting together a little event to repair the sign and I�m here to make sure things go smoothly, right?�

�I�m not sure about that, Sam, but there�s one thing I can tell you. Jim�s co-president, Trixie Belden, has a knack for finding mysteries. If you like, I can ask Ziggy to run a report on Trixie. It shouldn�t take too much time.�

�Okay, Al. Hurry.�

Al punched a few buttons on his com-link and a white gateway appeared behind him. He stepped inside it, and after a quick wave to Sam, the gateway went shut.

Holding the letter in his hands, he returned to the clubhouse. As soon as he opened the door, the noisy conversation stopped.

�Jim are you all right?� asked the tall, teenage boy with dark, black curly hair. �Maybe Trixie should read the letter to us.�

�N-no, I�ll be fine,� Sam said and lifted the letter so he could read it.

Bob-Whites of the Glen,

This letter is in response to your request to organize a fundraiser to repair the school sign. I would like that very much. Before I consent to the activity, though, I would like to meet with you to go over what is planned.

Honey Wheeler had suggested a bake-sale to raise money for the supplies needed. I will have to run that by the school board before I can agree to anything.

Brian Belden and Jim Frayne also suggested the possibility of a senior class project. I talked with the president of the student council, Loyola Kevins, and she liked the sound of that.

I will keep in touch and we can talk over a school-sponsored fundraiser when we meet together.

Sincerely,

Mr. Stratton

The girl with the dark, jet-black hair and violet blue eyes bounced in her seat and clapped her hands. �This sounds so wonderful!�

�The best news is,� said the teenage boy with the blond crew cut, �is that Trixie hasn�t found a mystery and if any of the rest of us have anything to say about it, she won�t either.�

�C�mon Mart!� the curly blond girl cried. �You like a good mystery just as much as I do. Besides, there already is a mystery. We need to find out who vandalized that sign.�

�It�s true, Mart,� said the one with the honey-blonde hair. �The both of you work together just as well as we do. If we�re not careful, the detective agency will be called Belden-Wheeler-Belden.�

�Detective agency?� asked Sam. �Aren�t you girls just a bit young for that sort of thing?�

The clubhouse grew quiet as Trixie looked at Sam and blinked. �But Jim, you�ve known about this for ages.� Suddenly, she got angry. �You know, you�ve been against this from the start. Since the day I told you what I thought of Di�s imposter uncle, you�ve been scoffing at my dreams.�

Sam didn�t even flinch at the young teenage girl. �Mysteries aren�t games, you know. They involve murder, scandal��

�I�m well aware what they involve!� the young girl shouted. �But they also involve tracking down runaway boys to help give them the future they�ve always wanted, Jim! �

�Trixie, calm down,� the one with the wavy, dark-hair said but she cut him off.

�No, I will not calm down, Brian!� She turned to Sam. �Mysteries also help innocent victims who fall prey to crooks.�

With that, she stormed out of the clubhouse. Mart and Brian followed after her. Brian gave Sam an odd glance as he hurried past him.

The honey-haired girl stood up and took Sam�s arm. �Come on, Jim,� she said. �Let�s just go home and relax.�

The violet-eyed girl and the quiet boy with jet-black hair sat at the table with shocked looks on their faces. They watched as Sam left with the girl.

Sam let the girl lead him home, hoping that he would learn more about who everyone was and what in the world Trixie was yelling about in her tantrum. Hoping that Al would show up with more background on the whole situation.

�Jim, what just happened back at the clubhouse?� the girl asked.

�What do you mean?�

�I mean, you were acting kind of�,� she shrugged as she tried to think of a word. �Well, didn�t act like yourself.�

�Um, I have a headache.�

�Not good enough, Jim,� she replied. �Ever since the end of July, you�ve been a pain in the butt and absolutely impossible to deal with. I hope you don�t mind my saying so, but you�ve pretty much alienated Trixie.�

Sam didn�t reply, as he had had to take on personas of many different people before. People such as lawyers, policemen, criminals, women, strippers, rock stars, pro-wrestlers, psychotic patients, himself, Al, animals, and yes, detectives. He felt more than prepared to take on the role of a teenager. He�d done that before too. But, he wasn�t prepared to be screamed at by Nancy Drew.

When they arrived at Manor House, the tall, white mansion on the hill, a middle-aged woman with gray hair and bright blue eyes greeted them.

�Honey, your parents called. They will be staying an extra day in Canada.� To Sam she added, �and Jim, Regan asked if you could help him exercise the horses today.�

Honey nodded. �Thanks, Miss Trask,� she said. �Maybe I�ll ask Trixie and Di to come over and spend the night again like last night. We have lots of planning to do.�

Miss Trask nodded her approval. �Why don�t you call Trixie now?�

�I�d better not. She was pretty hot when she left the clubhouse. I�ll give her some time to cool down.�

Miss Trask didn�t say anything. She had found out how Jim had treated Trixie on her last case and figured that this kind of thing would be better off left up to the both of them. They were young adults and had to learn to deal with things like these.

Sam looked from Honey to Miss Trask. �Uh�um, I won�t be able to exercise the horses. I�ve got a headache.�

Miss Trask did a double take. �Maybe he can ask the Belden boys.� With that, she walked away.

Honey knitted her eyebrows and looked at him. �Are you feeling well, Jim? I mean, you don�t have a fever or anything, do you?�

Sam felt his forehead. �No, no fever. I think I should go lie down, though.�

Honey shrugged and rounded the corner and through the big living room.

�I suppose you�re wondering where you�re bedroom is, Sam?�

Sam jumped. �You know, I�ll never get used to you sneaking up on me like this!� he said aloud.

�I�m sorry, I don�t mean to sneak,� squeaked one of the maids who was in the process of coming into the hall.

�Oh, I�m sorry. Not you,� Sam laughed. �I was talking to Al� er, myself.�

The maid cocked her head to one side. �All right, Jim,� she said and crossed the hallway, walking straight through Al�s holographic image.

�Follow me,� said Al as he stuck his cigar back in his mouth. He led Sam up the stairs and down the brightly lit, luxurious hallway. �This is Honey�s room. Honey is your adoptive sister.� A few more feet down, Al stopped in front of another door on the other side of the hallway. �This, my friend, is your room.� With that, he proceeded through the closed door.

Sam stood on the other side of the door looking down the hallway. He jumped when Al stuck his head back through the door. �You coming in, Sam?�

Jim�s bedroom was neat and tidy. Much like what Sam�s childhood bedroom looked like back home on the farm in Indiana, except this room was in a mansion, not a farmhouse. Sam sat down on the bed and looked up at Al. �Okay, any information on Trixie?�

Al took the cigar out of his mouth. �As a matter of fact, we got so much info on her, they should consider writing a series! Trixie Belden is fifteen-years-old. Her best friend is Jim�s sister, Honey. The two girls found Jim Frayne at his late Great-uncle�s house about two years ago. Jim ran away because of his abusive stepfather, and the two girls sleuthed around upstate to find him. By the end of that summer, the three of you had formed a club with Trixie�s brothers, Mart and Brian. By the end of October, Diana Lynch had become a member, followed by Dan Mangan in February.

�Since Jim met Trixie, he has held a special place in his heart for her and after a life-threatening incident in Iowa, you, er, Jim declared that she was �his special girl�. Trixie loves to solve mysteries and has been quite successful. She�s only fourteen, Sam, and already she has solved thirty-nine mysteries. That�s a lot for a teen.�

�So, am I here to get her to stop solving mysteries?� Sam asked.

�I�m not sure,� replied Al. �Gooshie didn�t indicate that at all. He was able to scrape up a quote from Jim that seems to explain the tension between Jim and Trixie at the moment. A con artist by the name of Laura Ramsey made an impression on the Wheelers, and they took her in. Jim began paying more attention to her than Trixie. He uttered the unforgivable after Laura was exposed and Trixie hasn�t really been able to get over it.�

�What did I�What did Jim say to make her so mad?�

��I hope I�m nice to everybody.��

�That�s all?� asked Sam. �That doesn�t sound too bad. Why would she get irritated over that?�

Al shrugged. �Because Jim never takes Trixie seriously. It�s nearly thirty-nine mysteries of criticism from him that makes �I hope I�m nice to everybody� sound insulting. Especially when we�re talking about a con artist that Trixie had already warned Jim and Honey about.�

�So I�m here to apologize.�

�It�s beginning to look that way,� Al replied.

�Trixie mentioned something at the clubhouse about a detective agency,� Sam asked. �What�s that all about?�

Al tapped a few keys on his com-link. �Ziggy doesn�t really say anything about any detective agency affiliated with Trixie Belden. Let�s try Honey Wheeler.� He tapped a few more keys. �Nope. Nothing.�

�Well, then maybe what I told them has worked and changed history.�

�If you did change history for the better, Sam,� Al responded, �then why are you still here?�

Sam shook his head and looked down at the wooden floor. �If I changed history, it might have been for the worse.�

Sam heard the phone ring downstairs. He listened with his ear against the bedroom door as Honey was called over to the phone and eavesdropped on her side of the conversation.

�Hey Trix,� she greeted. �No, I have no idea what�s wrong with him. He�s acting weird.� She laughed at something Trixie must have said. �Aren�t they, though? Anyway, what�s up?� There was a long pause. �Super! Great work, Trix! I�ll be sure to let Jim know. I�ll also call Di and�� she was cut off by something Trixie said. �Oh, you�ve already let them know. Okay, sounds great.� There was another long pause. �Sure. I�ll let Jim know and we�ll be down in no time. Bye.�

Sam walked over to Al. �I don�t know much about anything going on here. I�ve done all right by ad-libbing in the past, but when everything you say seems to be out of character for you, it�s hard to be convincing.�

Al shrugged. �You�ll get through it. Just think seventeen again. Shoot, I know if I were seventeen and had those three girls around all the time, I�d go nuts.�

Sam put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. �Al, my problem. Remember?�

"Huh? Oh yeah. Well, anyway, Honey is coming up the stairs. You�d better lie down like you said you were going to. She�ll get suspicious if you don�t.� Al said from across the room.

�Right.� Sam quickly lay down on his neatly made bed.

As he finished, there was a knock at his door. �Jim, are you up?�

�Yeah, Honey. I�m awake. Come in.�

Honey opened the door and walked in. �That was Trixie on the phone. She talked with Mr. Stratton about the sign and we�re to meet him tomorrow in front of the school. She said we could talk more when we come over tonight. The Beldens invited us over for a cookout.�

Sam looked past Honey to Al, who was nodding. �That sounds great. What time does she want us there?�

�Right now, so we can help.�

�What about Regan?�

�He changed his mind about the horses. It�s too hot to exercise them now. He said that as long as the Bob-Whites are getting together, that we could all exercise them later.� She turned around and headed for the door. Before leaving, she turned around to face Sam. �And Jim, please don�t irritate Trixie any more than you already have. She really likes you, you know.�

Sam just stared up at Honey and nodded. As soon as she left the room, Sam headed over to the highboy dresser and looked in the mirror. That redheaded teenager looked back at him again. �I wish I could say something to turn her away from mysteries,� he said to Al. �She�s too young to realize what all is involved.�

�It makes no difference, Sam,� said Al. �She�s fifteen and probably won�t open an agency anyway. Maybe that�s why there�s nothing mentioned in Trixie�s life about one.�

Sam shook his head with exasperation. �But, you didn�t see her at the clubhouse. She�s pretty serious about this. I just want the opportunity to tell her that life isn�t a Nancy Drew novel.�

The com-link made a bleep-o-bleep sound. �Ooh, Ziggy picked up on that one right away. If I were you, Sam, I wouldn�t compare Trixie�s dream to Nancy Drew. She reads Lucy Radcliffe.�

�Who�s that?�

Al shrugged. �How the heck should I know? I read Hardy Boys.�

�I read Cosmo McNaught,� replied Sam. �He�s the one that gave me the idea for time travel within my own lifetime.�

Al smiled. �I think it is my duty as your only holographic friend to remind you that you also watched �Time Patrol� as a kid. So you were inspired by characters of fiction just like Trixie. Don�t ruin it for her.�

Sam laughed as he remembered his favorite childhood science fiction show. �Point taken, Al. I�ll try to be nice about it.�

�Are you coming, or are you going to talk to yourself all day long?� Honey asked from Jim�s doorway. Sam jumped and spun around to see Jim�s sister shaking her head. �Sometimes you really get weird, you know that? See you down at the farm.�