Alexis

by Erica Rodgers

  “Wow!” said Elizabeth. “How’d she do that?”

  “She’s teaching some classes about British history,” said Alexis. “It’s a new addition to the London Bridge Days Festival.” She gestured to all of the tourists.

  They had entered the area of Lake Havasu City that looked like an old English village. People everywhere were dressed up. They all wore a lot of clothes for such a hot day. The women dressed in bright, heavy, velvet clothes. Some wore tattered dark clothes to look like beggars and paupers, poor people. Others were dressed regally to look like princes and queens. They reminded Alexis of the scenes and actors from movies like Robin Hood or The Princess Bride or even a few of the scenes in The Chronicles of Narnia.

  Elizabeth turned and looked again at the bridge. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and took a picture. “That’s really the London Bridge, huh?” asked Elizabeth.

  Alexis glanced over her shoulder and shivered.

  “Yep. The city of London had to replace it because it was so old, but they didn’t want to throw it away, so they sold it to Lake Havasu City.”

  “I thought the London Bridge was tall, you know? With towers at the ends,” said Elizabeth.

  “You’re thinking of the Tower Bridge,” said Alexis. “My grandma told me that people always get them mixed up.”

  This bridge definitely didn’t have towers. It was wide and low to the water, with five long arches supporting its weight. The top of the bridge had a stone rail that held a few old lampposts and a flagpole.

  “It’s so weird to see something called the London Bridge in the middle of the Arizona desert!” said Elizabeth.

  Alexis laughed as she led her friend toward the London Bridge Resort, where she was staying. She was so excited to be on fall break. She had a whole week off from school, so her grandmother had invited Alexis to join her at the resort. Alexis was happy already, but she became super-excited when she found out that Elizabeth was coming too. Elizabeth’s dad came to Lake Havasu every year for the bass-fishing tournament. This year he brought the whole family.

  Alexis couldn’t wait to spend an entire five days with the oldest of the Camp Club Girls! Who knew? Maybe they would get a chance to solve a mystery. Something was bound to happen when crowds this large got together.

  “Wow! You’re staying here?” Elizabeth cried. They had turned into the entrance of the London Bridge Resort. Two huge towers guarded the doors. Every time Alexis looked at them, she expected to see a princess waving from the top or a dragon at the bottom, clawing to get in.

  “Hey, stand by the entrance and let me get a picture,” Elizabeth directed. “Then I’ll send it to the rest of the Camp Club Girls.”

  Alexis posed until Elizabeth said, “Okay. That’ll make them wish they were here.”

  Then Alexis led the way through the front doors, and a huge scarlet lobby glittered before them. To the left was an expanse of marble floor, which led over to the check-in desk, and to the right was—

  Elizabeth gasped.

  “I know,” said Alexis. “Isn’t it awesome?”

  An expanse of soft red carpet was surrounded by gold stands and scarlet ropes. Inside the ropes was a gigantic carriage. It looked like it was made of gold. The roof of the carriage was held up by eight golden palm trees, and at the very top sat three cherubs. They were holding up the royal crown.

  The girls were leaning in to get a closer look when a boyish voice snapped behind them.

  “Can’t you see the ropes? No touching!”

  Alexis spun around. An officer in a brown sheriff’s uniform stood at the edge of the carpet, crossing his arms.

  “We weren’t going to touch it, sir,” said Elizabeth. “I promise—”

  “I know troublemakers when I see ’em,” said the young man. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

  “Hi,” muttered Alexis. She glanced at his badge. “Um, Mr. Dewayne.”

  He pointed to his badge and said, “Deputy Dewayne to you.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Elizabeth, but it came out more like a question.

  “Don’t get smart with me, little girl!” said Deputy Dewayne. Alexis smiled. Elizabeth was easily as tall as the officer. “This is my town! I won’t have tourists making a mess of things!”

  Alexis and Elizabeth simply nodded.

  “If I see you even put one finger over those ropes”—he pointed toward the carriage—“I’ll clap you in irons!”

  Alexis couldn’t help it. She sniggered. Clap us in irons? Whatever that means.

  “You think this is funny?” asked the deputy. Alexis was about to say no, but they were interrupted by a waitress carrying a paper bag.

  “Here’s your lunch, Deputy,” she said with a smile. “Grilled cheese with no crust—just the way you like it.” She winked at the girls and handed the officer his bag…which had cartoon animals all over it.

  Deputy Dewayne saw the girls hide a laugh as they looked from him to the bag.

  “The kiddie menu is cheaper!” he exclaimed. “And I like it! You just remember what I said. This is my town. Don’t get on my bad side!” With that, he turned and marched out of the lobby.

  “No way!” said Elizabeth.

  “I know!” said Alexis. “Kiddie menu?”

  “Clap us in irons?”

  Elizabeth shot some pictures of the carriage, and then the girls laughed all the way up the stairs to the room where Alexis’s grandmother was giving a speech on British literature. When they reached the door of the room where Mrs. Windsor was teaching, Alexis put a finger to her lips to tell Elizabeth to be quiet.

  “And that,” said Alexis’s grandmother’s voice, “is how the famous Gunpowder Plot was discovered.”

  The people applauded lightly and then stood to leave. Alexis had to wait for the group of people around her grandmother to clear before introducing Elizabeth.

  “This is my grandma, Molly Windsor.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” said the short lady, shaking Elizabeth’s hand. Her hair was a powerful shade of red, and her face was covered with a smattering of freckles, just like Alexis’s. “I hope you two have been enjoying the scenery!”

  “We’ve only just begun,” said Elizabeth. “But we have been to the bridge.”

  Alexis shuddered again.

  “Really, Alexis!” said her grandmother. “That bridge is hardly twenty feet tall and made out of solid concrete and steel! It’s perfectly safe. You need to work on that fear of yours!”

  “You’re afraid of bridges?” cried Elizabeth.

  “It’s nothing,” said Alexis, changing the subject. “Want to go sightseeing with us, Grandma?”

  “Sorry, girls. I have two more lectures today. Why don’t you explore together? You’re bound to find some fascinating things.”

  She bustled around her podium, taking out another set of notes. Just then, an older man approached the front. Had he been sitting in the back all that time? Or had it just taken him that long to walk up the aisle?

  “Interesting topic, Dr. Windsor,” he said. His voice sounded like sandpaper under water—scratchy and wet at the same time.

  “Thank you,” said Alexis’s grandmother. “Girls, this is Dr. Edwards. He is speaking this week as well.”

  The skinny, slouched man reached out to shake hands but pulled back quickly. He yanked a square white piece of fabric out of his front pocket. He held the handkerchief up to his nose and sneezed into it. The violence of the sneeze had not messed up his perfect mustache, which was a glimmering white, like his short hair.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “The air here is dusty.”

  “This is my granddaughter, Alexis,” said Grandma Windsor. “And her friend Elizabeth. Alexis is staying with me for the week.”

  The man eyed the girls and frowned.

  “Well, hopefully you two will find something better to do than bother the people attending our conference,” he said. “The bed race, for example, usually interests the loud youth of t
he city.”

  “Bed race?” said Alexis. “What’s a bed race?” It sounded so interesting that she forgot Dr. Edwards had just insulted them.

  “Ask the crazy lady at the front desk,” said Dr. Edwards. With that, he bowed to Grandma Windsor and left.

  “Don’t mind him, girls,” said Grandma Windsor when he was out of hearing range. “He’s old and grouchy. Gets along better with books than with people.”

  Another audience began flooding into the room, so Alexis and Elizabeth fought against the tide and left, waving goodbye over their shoulders. They walked back down to the lobby and saw the woman Dr. Edwards had called the crazy lady at the front desk.

  Of course she wasn’t really crazy. She did have a streak of purple hair, though. Alexis was sure that someone like Dr. Edwards would call that crazy instead of creative, interesting, or fun.

  They waited at the desk behind a man who had lost his room key and a woman who needed more towels. When it was their turn, Alexis spoke up.

  “Hi,” she said. “We’re visiting here, and we heard something about a bed race. Could you tell us what that is?”

  “Of course!” said the lady. She wasn’t old, but she wasn’t too young either. The color in her hair made it even harder for Alexis to tell her age. “It’s exactly what it sounds like—a bed race!” she said brightly.

  Alexis and Elizabeth exchanged a confused look. The lady behind the desk explained further.

  “The race happens on Saturday, before the parade. Each team decorates an old bed with wheels on it. Then the teams race the beds through town. Someone pushes or pulls the bed, and the others ride on it. You sign up over there,” she pointed to the wall a few feet away. There was a large poster with a picture of a zooming four-poster and a scribbled list of names.

  Alexis looked at Elizabeth and could tell she was thinking the same thing: This could be quite the adventure! A cloud passed over Alexis’s smile.

  “Where are we supposed to get an old bed?” she asked.

  “You’d be surprised,” said the woman behind the desk. “I’d start looking around the shopping area. Try the older shops—and don’t hesitate to ask around.”

  The girls turned to leave, but the desk lady called out.

  “I’m Jane, by the way.”

  “I’m Alexis, and this is Elizabeth.”

  “Well, good luck! The same team has won two years in a row. Maybe you can show them up, huh?” She waved at the girls and gave them a cheerful smile.

  The girls waved back and walked across the lobby toward the front door and the sunshine.

  Suddenly the lobby door flew open, and a short, round man with messy gray hair stumbled through it. His face was red beneath a bushy mustache, and sweat poured down his cheeks. Everyone in the area stopped moving and talking. The only sound in the room was the slap of the man’s polished shoes as he crossed the marble floor.

  “Mr. Mayor, what is it?”

  The mayor, thought Alexis. What could be wrong?

  “Mayor Applebee, can I help?” Jane came out from behind the front desk. The mayor stopped. A bead of sweat flipped off the end of his chin. He raised his hands in the air as if he were about to make an important announcement.

  His breathing was still labored, but it seemed that he couldn’t wait any longer. He gulped at the air and spoke.

  “The bridge…is…It’s…” He almost fell over, but Jane rushed to support him. After a moment the mayor regained his balance. He drew in a breath—more steady this time—and managed to finish a whole sentence.

  “The London Bridge is…falling down.”

  Falling Down!

  Falling down, falling down.

  London Bridge is falling down….

  Alexis half expected the mayor to finish the old nursery rhyme.

  But there was no “my fair lady.” Only a winded man standing in the silence of the lobby and looking distressed. No one spoke because no one knew what to say. Was this some sort of joke? If so, it wasn’t a very good one. No one was laughing.

  “The commissioner!” wheezed the mayor. “Where is he?”

  “In the restaurant,” said Jane. “Eating lunch.”

  Mayor Applebee took off through the lobby.

  “Who is the commissioner?” Alexis asked.

  “The bridge commissioner,” answered Jane. “He’s in charge of the committee that oversees the bridge. Something must really be wrong.”

  Alexis and Elizabeth followed the flow of people out of the hotel lobby and toward the canal. A large group was already gathering on the shore, and it was difficult to see the bridge. They could only see a herd of people being shown off the nearest end of the bridge. The food stands that had been selling treats moments earlier were piling everything into boxes. Over the entrance to the bridge, the sign reading TASTES OF HAVASU had been removed, and a police officer was replacing it with yellow caution tape.

  There must really be something wrong with the bridge, thought Alexis. “Come on, Elizabeth. Let’s see if we can get closer.”

  The girls edged their way to the front of the crowd and then carefully walked along the water’s edge toward the bridge. Eventually they saw it. A crack—about eight feet long—climbing out of the water and reaching toward the arch in the second bridge support. Even as they watched, a bit of mortar crumbled and plunked into the channel.

  The crowd gasped.

  Voices chimed together, striking chords of worry and fear.

  “It couldn’t really fall, could it?”

  “The middle will go first, if it does.”

  “I guess that’s what happens when you buy a used bridge!”

  “What about the parade?”

  What about the parade? thought Alexis. She had been so excited about the festival, but could it go on if the bridge was threatening to collapse? Suddenly a voice from the back of the crowd rose above all the others.

  “It’s the curse.” The voice was solid but wavy—like an aged piece of oak. The people on the bank all turned. Their eyes locked onto an old woman. She was wearing a ragged brown dress and a cloak, even though it was hot. Her tin-colored hair hung tangled to her waist, and she was leaning on a warped walking stick.

  Alexis couldn’t tell if it was a costume or not. The lady definitely looked like some kind of medieval hag. The woman reminded her of the old hag in The Princess Bride, who cursed Princess Buttercup in her dreams for giving away her own true love.

  “What curse?” someone called from the crowd.

  “Don’t you people keep up on your history?” asked the old woman. She was speaking from the top of the little green hill near the bridge. Everyone could see her as she lifted her hands to speak over them.

  “History!” the woman repeated. “The London Bridge never remains whole for long, no matter how you rebuild it. From the time of the Romans, it has always sunk, burned, or crumbled!” She pointed toward the crack with her stick.

  The crowd began to murmur. Some were nodding. Alexis made a mental note to ask her grandmother about the bridge’s destructive past. The old woman continued.

  “When the bridge was brought to Lake Havasu, the curse of the River Thames followed. Now it will prey on two cities instead of one! London and Lake Havasu City are sisters in destruction!”

  The people began talking among themselves again. Some wandered back to whatever they had been doing before the commotion. Some called after the woman, asking her questions, but she was already out of reach. She walked toward town singing softly in a croaking voice, “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down….”

  When the crowd had thinned out, Alexis and Elizabeth wandered closer to the bridge. From the grassy slope they could easily see the crack. It looked strange—harmless and menacing at the same time. Elizabeth sat on the grass and crossed her lanky legs. Alexis plopped down beside her.

  “Do you think a crack that small could really bring a whole bridge down?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I have no idea!” answered
Alexis. “I’m just glad nothing happened while we were up there this morning.” Alexis ran her hand through the short grass.

  “I just don’t get it,” she said, picking a small clover. “This bridge shouldn’t just fall down. I read about it before I came. The outside layer of stone is from the real London Bridge, but everything underneath is solid steel and cement. It shouldn’t be crumbling, Elizabeth.”

  Alexis was puzzled. What could possibly bring down such a huge structure? The bridge wasn’t old—barely thirty years. And it wasn’t like Lake Havasu got a lot of severe weather or anything. That only left one possibility.

  “The curse,” said Alexis, almost in a whisper.

  “Alexis, come on,” said Elizabeth. Now her gangly arms were crossed as well as her legs. “You can’t really believe what that lady was saying. Curses aren’t real!”

  “I know,” said Alexis. “But it sounds like a mystery, don’t you think?” She looked sideways at her friend and raised her eyebrows. Elizabeth’s mouth stretched into a wide smile.

  “Mmm, I was hoping something like this might happen…. I mean, not the crack!” she apologized to the bridge. “You know what I mean. Do you happen to have that little pink notebook of yours?”

  “What do you think?” said Alexis. She drew the notebook out of her back pocket and started scribbling as Elizabeth listed people they should try to talk to.

  Problem: There’s a crack in the London Bridge.

  Plan: Track down more information. Start by talking to the old woman—maybe there’s more to this curse thing than we realize. Maybe it’s a stunt for the tourists.

  Alexis thought back to the conversation surrounding the bridge only moments before.

  “Elizabeth,” she said. “What if they cancel the parade? No parade means no bed race! That would be a total bummer!”

  “I know,” said Elizabeth. “But it’s even worse than that. No London Bridge means no Lake Havasu. They built this town around that bridge, Alexis. How many tourists will come to see a pile of rocks?”

  “Who knows,” said Alexis. “It works for Stonehenge, doesn’t it?”