his life was. At the same time, she knew that he was choosing the most destructive way possible of dealing with his loneliness.
She doesn’t know how she should feel about Ben, Trixie thought. She just knows that she can’t ignore him, because he is her cousin. She’s probably waiting, just as Mart is, for Ben to do something so awful that the Wheelers will have to admit defeat and send Ben away for good. If that happens, Honey will always feel guilty because she wasn’t able to give him the help he needed.
With the full realization of Honey’s discomfort came full understanding of how much worse Trixie’s own behavior had made Honey feel. Trixie had been forcing Honey to choose between her best friend and her conscience. If she cut Ben off now in order to please me, and then Ben went off the deep end, she’d hate herself, and, what’s more, she’d hate me, too.
Trixie knew that it would be easier for her to tolerate Ben Riker from now on.
Ben and his friends finally tired of their taunts and moved on, and shortly afterward the last of the students interested in the bikeathon left the table, pledge cards in hand.
Fortunately, Ben’s rude behavior hadn’t dampened the enthusiasm of the students at the booth, nor had it given them cause to doubt the good intentions behind the bikeathon. Mart had taped one of the posters on the wall next to the table, and the map of the bikeathon route had been a strong selling point, as Trixie had known it would be. She’d heard many of the students talking among themselves about how interesting it would be to see the Wheeler game preserve firsthand. Trixie smiled to herself as she remembered the second most common remark she’d overheard: “Look! There are going to be free refreshments, too!” She knew that most of them would be expecting the usual unimaginative hot dogs and hamburgers.
“Won’t they be surprised,” she said aloud to Honey and Di, “when they show up at Mr. Maypenny’s and discover that huge kettle of hunter’s stew?”
“We really should tell them about it in advance,” Di said. “Otherwise, they’ll eat so many of Mrs. Vanderpoel’s delicious cookies that they’ll have to go around the bike route all over again to work up an appetite!”
“How many people signed up?” Trixie asked. Honey finished counting the lists of names and looked up with a wide smile. “There are already fifty riders, Trixie, with more to come!”
Trixie did some fast calculating. “Let’s see. If we have fifty riders, and they each get a dollar a mile in pledges.... Gleeps! That will be over a thousand dollars for the art department!”
“Oh, Trixie, that’s wonderful!” Honey exclaimed. “Are you sure?”
Di Lynch had been figuring with paper and pencil. “That’s right, Honey. See?” She showed the figures to Honey and Trixie. “Trixie only has trouble with math problems in class. When it comes to one of her pet projects, she has no trouble at all.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everybody, especially when I bring home my report card.
There’s nothing wrong with my answers in math class. It’s the problems that are wrong!”
Still laughing at Trixie’s ’logic,” the girls cleaned off their table, gathered their books, and started to walk to the parking lot, where they were to meet the boys.
Suddenly Trixie stopped and snapped her fingers. “Math problems!” she exclaimed.
“I thought we just decided you don’t have any,” Honey said teasingly.
“Oh, yes, I do,” Trixie said. “I have ten algebra problems that I’m supposed to do for homework tonight, and I left the book in my locker. You two go ahead and wait for the boys. I’ll run back and get my book and meet you in the parking lot in a minute.” Trixie turned and hurried back down the corridor.
Rounding a comer, Trixie saw Nick Roberts. She started to speak, but something in his attitude stopped her. He stood motionless, his face fixed in a frown, staring at