Student Work
Beatrice Archer and the French Chase
By Maggie Forsman
Grade 5
Detective Beatrice Archer tightened her golden yellow ascot and quickly grabbed her sunglasses as she stepped out of her apartment onto the busy street of New York City. She was a short-statured, middle-aged woman, who could find clues easily with her partner, William J.
She had a stressful career being a detective working at one of the top agencies in the world. Although she was short, she had to do jobs that seemed very tall. It seemed as though she was getting a new email reaching out for help, daily.
She worked hard at her job- some might say she is a workaholic. Her job didn’t leave a lot of time for leisure or hobbies. However, what little time she could carve out for herself, she spent writing her next book in a series of mystery novels for kids. While she was lucky to have gotten her books published, they currently only had a small following of readers.
One evening as she turned to her desk, the computer pinged with an urgent email from her boss, “You have an urgent mission: to find the missing Mona Lisa! You and William J. must leave at once!” The email went on to share the details of the case, including when exactly the painting was stolen, what the suspect looked like, etc.
She walked to William’s office, grabbed him by the arm and forcefully tugged him out of his office and across the hall as she quickly and quietly pulled him down the stairs, her long blonde ponytail swinging behind her. William said angrily, “What is going on? It’s seven in the morning!” Beatrice said in a whisper-like voice, “Shh. We’re going to France”.
Once they were in the car rushing to the airport William said, “So why are we going to FRANCE?”
“We have a mission to do and ASAP! Think history! Think DaVinci! Think ‘one of the most popular paintings known to man! The Mona Lisa has gone missing!” replied Beatrice.
William looked ahead of him as if he had just won the lottery. Beatrice had not been paying attention and had slammed on the brakes, and said in a tough voice, “Holy mother of mystery!”
William was startled and yelled, “WHAT, WHAT IS IT?”
Beatrice said, “I think I have an idea.”
William looked at the light ahead of them and said, “Uuuuh I think we should go, the lights are green!”
Beatrice stepped on the pedal with her small, black high heel and started to tell William the details of the case. They finally arrived at the airport and were soon in the terminal gate waiting for their flight. Of course, William was asleep while the airport looked so beautiful because the sun was just rising.
It was soon time for their flight. Beatrice shook William in his chair to wake him up, his shoulder-length black hair a bit of a mess. His brown glasses started to slip off his nose. His big puffy coat bunched up by his head like a pillow. He was snoring like a pig. “Wake up!” He woke up immediately as his glasses fell right off. They boarded the plane as a man with only a small bag walked by. He looked confused so Beatrice stood up to help him. She asked what was wrong, but he didn’t answer so Beatrice sat back down in her seat. She turned around to see if anything was suspicious, but the man had vanished.
“Hmmm,” she wondered.
They finally were in the air after waiting to take off. Beatrice didn’t mind being in an airplane but William, on the other hand, got air sick. To see if she could find the man again, she said she was going to the restroom. She casually walked to the back area of the plane, reading a newspaper she had found on an empty seat, watching the restroom door. She waited for a small amount of time and was rewarded when the man came out. She walked back to her seat. He didn’t notice her as he accidentally bumped into the arm of her seat as he walked by.
“Oh, sorry!” he said as he walked towards the front row of seats on the plane.
She put on her sunglasses which is what she did when someone was up to no good. She sat down when the flight attendant approached and asked if Beatrice wanted anything. Beatrice said that William probably wanted some peanuts. The flight attendant grabbed the bag of peanuts so Beatrice could give them to William. After he ate them, he did NOT feel good. William went into the bathroom and Beatrice saw the man in a different seat in the front! She started writing in her journal:
“He has a black hoodie and a black hat. He is probably about 6 feet tall and has sunglasses, big black boots and baggy black pants.”
Beatrice said to herself, “Why does the man keep moving around the airplane?” as confused as she was, she heard an announcement that they were going to land in a little bit.
They landed and William was relieved. But for some reason the man in the hoodie was trying to be the first person off the plane. Beatrice wondered what was happening but then she remembered that she was SUPPOSED to look for a man in all black! The description, his odd behavior, was it just a coincidence or could this man be involved in the heist? Beatrice told William her suspicions on the way out of the airport.
Beatrice and William hopped into the rental car she had reserved the day prior. Soon they were in a small town near Paris. The fresh smell of bread and the sound of water splashing in the pond from the fountain greeted them that chilly fall evening. Dragging their suitcases behind them, Beatrice said, “We have quite the job ahead of us, finding the criminal responsible for taking one of the most iconic pieces of art in the world!”
William said, “That piece is so expensive! In fact, priceless!”
Beatrice was wondering, “How will we catch him without being so obvious?”
As she was thinking to herself, William was looking around to see if he could find the hotel, they were going to stay in. He was pretty confused.
After wandering the town for a while they found it. So, they walked in the building and into the elevator, saying goodnight to each other.
Beatrice went into her room, took a warm and steamy shower, brushed her teeth, put on her coziest jammies and pulled out her laptop. Tonight would be a great night to start the first chapter of her new novel, “The Missing Mona Lisa.” What could be a better case to write about?
Once Wiliam was in his room, he flopped on the bed and immediately started to doze in his travel clothes and all.
Not surprising.
The next morning, she looked out the big window to see TWO men in black whispering back and forth. One opened a canvas bag-the same one she had seen him with on the plane- and to her surprise, she could make out the corner of the Mona Lisa! Beatrice yelled, “We need to go right now!”
William said with a scared voice, “Why!?”
Beatrice said, “I saw the suspect, or should I say suspects! There are TWO men! And they definitely have the Mona Lisa!”
So, they rushed out the building but they couldn’t see the men anywhere! Where could they have gone? There was a bakery next door, so they looked there and saw the men acting casual as they sat at the counter eating muffins. The small well-loved bag was next to them on the counter. Beatrice and William stopped in front of them and asked them casually, “So you like art?”
Surprised they had been spotted too quickly, the one sitting closest to the bag said in a mean but quiet voice, “It’s none of your business.” A moment later the men were bolting out the door.
Beatrice said loudly, “We have to go now!”
But William said, “But my coffee just got here!”
Beatrice wasn’t surprised when she said, “You are getting distracted! Let’s go!”
Once on the street, they saw the back of one of the men slip into a charming, old building. They quickly followed. As they entered, they were happily greeted by rows upon rows of books. They had wandered into the town library! Turning around, she saw William had vanished. Beatrice knew that this would happen. She decided William was on his own. She would have to search for the men herself. She peeked down aisle after aisle. Finally, after 10 minutes of looking she found William on the second floor. She thought, “It’s not exactly who I was looking for but it’ll do. That solves one mystery- her partner had been found.”
“Let’s go!” she said.
William was not happy. “But I want to look at more books.” William said sadly.
Beatrice said, “Well, why are you even partners with me if you don’t even do any of the work. You are far too distracted. I honestly feel you are only here for moral support. I might as well work solo.”
Having no luck finding the thieves, they slowly walked toward the exit. William said, “Is that a wrap for today?”
Beatrice said, “Hold on. We need to go back in to find the librarian. She overheard us talking together and I could tell by the look on her face that she might know something we don’t and could be our next lead.” William agreed and the two walked back to her desk. She was still sitting there looking at some papers.
“Do you happen to know anything about two men in black who were here a bit earlier?” said Beatrice.
“Yes. I do. I overheard them whispering to each other in the far corner about something that seemed important, so I casually went behind the nearest bookshelf to listen in.”
“Did you hear any details about anything they were doing that sounded suspicious or out of the ordinary?”
“I think they were talking about something small, valuable, art and Paris. I don’t know what for.”
“Ok. Thank you very much,” Beatrice replied as she pulled William quickly behind her down the hallway and out to the front steps of the library.
As they stepped out of the library, they looked across the road to a park along the River Seine. Beatrice said, “I have an idea!” Running across the park, she flagged down a family on their speed boat enjoying the nice day. “I can’t go into detail, but we are working with the French government on an important case. We need to get to Paris and fast! We are willing to pay you very well. Can you take us up the river to Paris?”
It seemed like an exciting adventure for the family, so they agreed. They handed a life jacket to William and Beatrice and they were off.
The sun was starting to set as they came into the city. As they were about to pass under a bridge, they looked up and saw the two men walking across-bag in hand! Beatrice shouted “Stop! Please drop us at the shore!”
The detectives ran up the nearby stairs to the street side by the bridge. Unfortunately, the men had glanced back and saw them. They took off running.
Beatrice and William chased them into the park where the Eiffel tower stood. The lights on the tower began to shine. The men jumped into the crowd of people waiting for the elevator and disappeared. She guessed they went up. She ran to catch the next elevator but William stopped and said, “I can’t go. I am afraid of heights.”
She didn’t have time to argue so she jumped in the next elevator.
Beatrice stepped out of the elevator and looked around. As she went around the other side, she spotted them. As she crept closer, they slowly backed up. They knew they were in big trouble now. There was no place to go. The one with the bag, opened it and took the painting out. She got closer and he panicked. He tossed it over the edge!
Her heart dropped.
The elevator opened and a bunch of police came running out and put the two men in handcuffs. She walked toward the elevator, feeling sad. Were the criminals caught? Yes.
But the artwork was lost, destroyed.
As she was about to click the button, she heard a joyful scream. She headed down the tower in the elevator. As she walked out, William was standing there- smiling- the painting safe in his hands! “I CAUGHT THE MONA LISA!”
Within days, news spread all over the world about how the famous Mona Lisa painting had been stolen, taken on quite a journey, luckily safely returned to the Louvre. Beatrice found that finishing her current novel was easy. With her fame from the solved case, she wound up gaining a much bigger group of fans for her novel series. No surprise, she had a big following in France now too. She was happy and so was William. Both knew that they were ready for their next case. No matter how hard the case would be, they would find a way as long as they were partners.
Addison McGurn Short Story
Please Note: No Witches Were Burnt Alive During the Making of This Story by Addison McGurn, 8th Grade
Once upon a time, in a dark forest, in a cozy little cottage, there lived an old witch. Of course, her name wasn’t actually “The Witch.” That’s just what everybody called her. We’ll get to that in a minute.
The Witch (yes, I’m going to call her that, but only because I don’t know what her real name is) was collecting herbs and flowers to garnish her baked goods with. You see, The Witch owned the best bakery for miles and miles around, and despite her hag-like appearance, people came from everywhere just to taste one of her specialty blueberry muffins. I can see why they did. Every morning, The Witch creates the batter (making sure to add a little extra sugar and butter), spoons it into three different-sized muffin tins (small, medium, and large), and pops them in the oven to bake. As they rise, the whole area around her cottage starts to smell like heaven, letting her customers know that she’s just about open for the day.
And it’s not just the muffins themselves that are amazing. The Witch makes her own fruit preserves from what she picks off the trees in her orchard in the fall, and drizzles them on top of her muffins right after they come out of the oven.
Then, she puts them on the windowsill to cool while she cleans up the kitchen. So you see, she’s not the green, children-eating monster that she’s characterized as (and she definitely doesn’t have any warts).
CRASH!!
Oh. Oh my goodness. Something very bad just happened in—ah, yes. That’s right. I haven’t told you about how this whole thing works yet. Well, I better explain before we get into anything too crazy. You see, The Witch lives in a book in my library, along with every other fairytale character that was ever created. They are kept in this book so that their stories can just keep repeating themselves, over and over again. I suppose they’d get tired of the same incident refreshing itself if they knew it was happening. Now, don’t ask me why the book is in my library. It just showed up there one day, and I felt as though it was my responsibility to look after it. Sometimes I like to narrate the stories while they’re unraveling because they play out like a movie right on the page. It makes me feel more connected to the characters.
Well anyway, let’s get back to the story. I think I’ll just let The Witch take it from here if that’s okay.
CRASH!!
I dash to the window, only to see my beloved, right out of the oven, blueberry muffins splattered all over the floor. To be frank, I was more confused than angry. Does a perfectly content pan of delicious muffins that were sitting on a windowsill, just suddenly decide to jump off? No. Because that doesn’t just happen! So let me tell you, I was a little…ahem…concerned about how my muffins got off the windowsill in the first place. So I did what any normal person would do; I stuck my head out of the window to see what was going on. And what did I see huddled on the ground under my magnolia bushes? Two small children, who looked to be about the ages of five and seven. The older one was a boy with messy red hair. He was wearing what looked to be a canvas sack that had been repurposed into a shirt, and baggy pants with patches of all different sizes and colors on them. The younger one was a girl. She had long, hazelnut colored hair that hung in two loose braids down her back. She also had on a brown long sleeve shirt, and on top of it, a canvas material dress that was ripped at every possible hem. Both of the kids looked dirty and unwashed, and another thing: neither of them had shoes on! My goodness, you just couldn’t help but feel bad for them.
“Well, hello down there,” I said as sweetly as I could while still sticking my head out of the window. The children looked back at me with innocent, frightened looks on their faces.
“My dears, whatever happened to you two?” Neither of them responded. So after a moment of awkward eye contact, I said, “You stay right there. I’ll be right around the front.” As you would imagine, I was quite surprised by the idea of some small children sitting in my garden, tipping over my muffins, and who knows what else. But, as you can also imagine, I was concerned for them. So on my way to the front door, dozens of questions were going through my mind. For example, why were they in the woods at this time of day? Where were their parents and were they looking for them? When was the last time they had a bath?
When I got into the front yard, the kids were no longer sitting underneath my window sill, but standing in front of me. Something I noticed right away; both of them had terrible posture. Their shoulders were hunched, and their heads hung just slightly too close to their chests. “Well…” I said, not quite knowing how to talk to children. After all, I have none of my own. “I guess we should—”
Before I could finish, the boy’s eyes got wide, and he screeched, “It wasn’t us! We didn’t do anything! Please don’t hurt us, or eat us, or do whatever witches in the forest do to kids!” So, after taking a step back, I was a bit offended by this comment, considering that no one had ever called me a witch before, and frankly, I didn’t think of myself as one.
Before I could say anything, the little girl leaped around to face the boy, and said, “Hansel, don’t you dare even try to lie! You tipped over this lady’s muffin pan, and you know it!”
Let me tell you, I was quite surprised by how powerful this child’s voice was, coming from such a small girl. Then she turned to me, and said, “I’m so sorry, Ma’am, we’re just very hungry. You see, we ran away, and came across your cottage this morning. My brother,” she gestured to the boy behind her, “thought your muffins smelled so good, and he tried to convince me to steal one! Of course, I said no. Because, you see, I’m not one to take or beg for anything. Although my stomach has been grumbling for the past…” She trailed off, and appeared to be counting on her fingers. I took this as my chance to step in.
“Why, it’s alright dear. I was just about to pull them out of the pan anyway. Would you care to join me in making another batch?” I said this in the least creepy way possible, although I still think that I must have scared the living daylights out of the poor boy. How do I know this, you ask?
Well, he suddenly turned and sprinted off into the forest, yelling, “I’m going home, Gretel! Have fun getting roasted and eaten by that witch!” Again, offensive.
The girl and I turned to each other, and smiled, “Ah, Gretel, is it?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well,” I sighed lightly, “We better get to making those muffins, or they won’t be ready in time for my shop to open!” The smile on Gretel’s face was as large as a crescent moon, and she giggled slightly before saying,
“You own a bakery?”
“Why yes, I do. And in fact, I think you would be the perfect employee.”
“Really?! You mean it?”
“Of course! How would you like to be… taste tester?” Gretel smiled that beautiful moon smile again as we walked, hand in hand, into my cottage.
Over the years, I have gotten to know Gretel as not only my friend, but my family, as she now lives with me. In fact, I affectionately gave her the nickname of Amorino, meaning little love in Italian.
As for Hansel, he has made it his mission to spread all sorts of rumors about me (aka The Witch). Some of them include eating and/or enslaving Gretel, throwing her back out into the woods to fend for herself, and leaving her to get eaten by a pack of wolves. There are lots more variations that are far more gory, but we don’t need to talk about that. Right now, I’m just content watching Gretel grow up and having someone to share my recipes with. Although I do sometimes wonder, where did Hansel get the idea for a house made of sweets, because that sounds fabulous!
So over time, as you can imagine, the witch’s story has been twisted and turned in every witch way (Ha ha. I’m hilarious, I know). But as for her cozy cabin, and delicious blueberry muffins, well, they remain the same. So no matter what stories you hear about the witch, you know the real one. And one last thing, if you ever find out what her actual name is, do tell me! I’d love to know.