175 Trick-Or-Trouble by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Retail
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

9 Sincerely Smashing Pumpkins

All at once a mountain of bright orange squash rained down on them. The brothers and Callie threw their hands over their heads for protection.

“Run!” Frank called. But it was too late.

The pumpkins pummeled the teenagers’ bodies and tripped them up, sending them sprawling into the dry field. A cry came from the other side of the falling pyramid.

The rumbling avalanche seemed to last forever, though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. When it subsided, a huge cloud of dust filled the air where the pyramid had been, and sticky orange pulp from shattered pumpkins covered the ground.

Frank Hardy slowly got to his feet and waved the dust away from his face. “Joe! Callie! Are you all right?”

Several coughs came in reply—one from further across the jumble of orange carcasses. Spotting Callie’s slender hand amid the pulpy rubble, Frank made his way to her side and helped her up. Almost simultaneously, Joe started to get up.

“I’m okay,” Callie said. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Me, too,” Joe added. “And these pumpkins have seen better days.”

A shadowy figure emerged from the other side of the pumpkin patch. “You guys owe me!” the shadow croaked.

Frank pulled his flashlight out and shone it on Brent Jackson. The football player looked battered and slightly soggy with orange pulp. “You did this to keep me from claiming the prize!” Jackson growled. “You owe me restitution!”

“What are you talking about?” Joe asked angrily. “We already got the prize.”

“Had the prize, you mean,” Callie said. “Sorry, guys. I lost it when the pyramid fell.”

“It’s got to be around here somewhere,” Frank said, “even if it’s buried under pumpkins.” He began to look through the pumpkin wreckage.

“I saw it first,” Jackson said. “You guys did this to keep me from getting it.” He bent over and started rooting through the remains of the pyramid.

“Get lost, Jackson,” Joe said. “We had that prize fair and square.”

Jackson stood up. “Why don’t we settle this here and now, Hardy.”

“Why don’t we,” Joe replied. He tossed aside a piece of pumpkin shell and balled up his fists.

“This has to be the stupidest-looking thing I’ve ever seen,” said a woman’s voice.

All of them spun to see Missy Gates and Jay Stone, dressed in jeans and leather “Kings” jackets. They were standing at the edge of the cornfield.

“What are you doing here?” Jackson snapped.

“Looking for prizes,” Missy replied. “Same as you. Find any, or are you just having a big pie fight?”

“We found one,” Callie said, “but lost it when the pumpkin pyramid fell.”

“I found it first!” Jackson said.

Missy laughed. “Is this what you’re looking for?” she asked. She walked over between two rows of dried corn and picked up the broken pieces of a ceramic pumpkin.

“Is the prize envelope with it?” Frank asked.

Missy shook her head and tossed the pieces on the ground.

“Looks like someone beat you dopes to the punch,” said Jay Stone.

“Maybe that someone was you!” Jackson snarled.

“He’s right,” Joe said. “Someone toppled those pumpkins on us—and you two seem likely candidates.

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