Read Online The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road by Julie Campbell - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Campbell
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his free time in this department. I do know that he’s had some unfortunate experiences. Nick and his family moved to Sleepyside just last year from New York City. His mother’s health isn’t very good, and her doctor suggested it might improve if she were away from the pollution of the city.
“Nick’s father is a master engraver, and he was in demand in the city, but there isn’t much call for his talents in a small town like Sleepyside. He has a little shop downtown, where he sells engraved trophies and plaques and such, but there isn’t much money in it. And, although Mrs. Roberts’s health has improved since they moved here, the medical bills that they ran up have put them pretty deeply in debt.
“Nick tries to help out by working evenings and weekends as a sign painter, and he does make enough money to pay for his expenses and help out a little with the bills at home. Still, he resents having to take so much time away from his serious work, and, understandably, he’s a little bit bitter. I’ve tried to draw him out since he’s been in my classes, but it doesn’t seem to work. He’s a very unhappy young man, and that’s too bad, since, as you said, he does have a lot going for him and will probably succeed eventually—if the chip on his shoulder doesn’t stand between him and success.” Trixie nodded soberly. “I understand him a lot better now, Mr. Crider. I’m glad you told me about Nick’s background. He must feel as though he’s carrying the weight of the whole world around on his shoulders. Still, that’s when a person needs friends most.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, Trixie,” Mr. Crider said. “I hope you’ll keep trying to be friends with Nick. Just don’t take it too personally if he’s not always very open with you.”
Trixie thanked Mr. Crider again for his help, and, promising to come back on Wednesday to pick up the posters and pledge cards, she returned to her study hall. On the way, she thought about what the art teacher had said about Nick Roberts.
She realized that Nick had his own artwork to do, and sign painting besides, so it was probably true that he didn’t have time to help with the bikeathon. But she couldn’t see why he hadn’t just explained that to her, instead of getting so angry.
It occurred to her that Nick might have been worrying about something else when she called out to him, and he might have taken out his worry by speaking angrily to her. Or, she guessed, he might have felt guilty because he knew he’d get what he needed out of the bikeathon, but he didn’t have time to help.
One thing I know for sure, Trixie concluded. It’s easier to find missing necklaces and lost trailers than it is to figure out why people act the way they do sometimes.
When Trixie boarded the school bus that afternoon, she saw Honey sitting alone in one of the double seats at the back of the bus. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Trixie quickly walked the length of the bus and sat down in the vacant seat next to Honey.
“Hi,” Trixie said. “I got Mr. Crider, the art teacher, to help out with the artwork we need. He says we can pick up the posters and pledge cards Wednesday, so we might as well ask the principal if we can have our sign-up booth right after school Wednesday.” Trixie faltered when she saw that Honey’s face was set in an unfriendly expression. “I—I guess I should ask if you’re still interested in helping with the bikeathon.”
“I certainly am interested in the bikeathon,” Honey replied icily. “Someone has to make sure that nothing else goes wrong.”
“Has something gone wrong, Honey?” Trixie asked. “Did your father withdraw his permission to use the clearing, or—”
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, Trixie Belden,” Honey interrupted. “I went over to the clubhouse last night after we got home from the city. I wanted to see how far you’d gotten on the direction arrows.
“What I found was
“Nick’s father is a master engraver, and he was in demand in the city, but there isn’t much call for his talents in a small town like Sleepyside. He has a little shop downtown, where he sells engraved trophies and plaques and such, but there isn’t much money in it. And, although Mrs. Roberts’s health has improved since they moved here, the medical bills that they ran up have put them pretty deeply in debt.
“Nick tries to help out by working evenings and weekends as a sign painter, and he does make enough money to pay for his expenses and help out a little with the bills at home. Still, he resents having to take so much time away from his serious work, and, understandably, he’s a little bit bitter. I’ve tried to draw him out since he’s been in my classes, but it doesn’t seem to work. He’s a very unhappy young man, and that’s too bad, since, as you said, he does have a lot going for him and will probably succeed eventually—if the chip on his shoulder doesn’t stand between him and success.” Trixie nodded soberly. “I understand him a lot better now, Mr. Crider. I’m glad you told me about Nick’s background. He must feel as though he’s carrying the weight of the whole world around on his shoulders. Still, that’s when a person needs friends most.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, Trixie,” Mr. Crider said. “I hope you’ll keep trying to be friends with Nick. Just don’t take it too personally if he’s not always very open with you.”
Trixie thanked Mr. Crider again for his help, and, promising to come back on Wednesday to pick up the posters and pledge cards, she returned to her study hall. On the way, she thought about what the art teacher had said about Nick Roberts.
She realized that Nick had his own artwork to do, and sign painting besides, so it was probably true that he didn’t have time to help with the bikeathon. But she couldn’t see why he hadn’t just explained that to her, instead of getting so angry.
It occurred to her that Nick might have been worrying about something else when she called out to him, and he might have taken out his worry by speaking angrily to her. Or, she guessed, he might have felt guilty because he knew he’d get what he needed out of the bikeathon, but he didn’t have time to help.
One thing I know for sure, Trixie concluded. It’s easier to find missing necklaces and lost trailers than it is to figure out why people act the way they do sometimes.
When Trixie boarded the school bus that afternoon, she saw Honey sitting alone in one of the double seats at the back of the bus. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Trixie quickly walked the length of the bus and sat down in the vacant seat next to Honey.
“Hi,” Trixie said. “I got Mr. Crider, the art teacher, to help out with the artwork we need. He says we can pick up the posters and pledge cards Wednesday, so we might as well ask the principal if we can have our sign-up booth right after school Wednesday.” Trixie faltered when she saw that Honey’s face was set in an unfriendly expression. “I—I guess I should ask if you’re still interested in helping with the bikeathon.”
“I certainly am interested in the bikeathon,” Honey replied icily. “Someone has to make sure that nothing else goes wrong.”
“Has something gone wrong, Honey?” Trixie asked. “Did your father withdraw his permission to use the clearing, or—”
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, Trixie Belden,” Honey interrupted. “I went over to the clubhouse last night after we got home from the city. I wanted to see how far you’d gotten on the direction arrows.
“What I found was
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