The Worst Day of Nancy Drew's Life

August 21, 2012
By miss_eyre BRONZE, Isle Of Palms, South Carolina
miss_eyre BRONZE, Isle Of Palms, South Carolina
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The Worst Day of Nancy Drew’s Life

“Oh, I just love looking through neighbors’ trash cans for evidence!” said I,

attractive, blond haired Nancy Drew. As an amateur detective, I make it my business to

know everyone else’s (Me, nosey? Never!). It was a crisp morning in River Heights, and

as usual, I was up bright and early.

“I just can’t wait to see Bess and George this afternoon!” I thought gleefully. Today was

my nineteenth birthday (about time too, considering I’d been eighteen for eight decades)

and my two best friends, who had tagged along during many of my cases, would be

coming over for a party.

Once I had finished my survey of the neighborhood, (with no discoveries more

interesting than a few bills labeled “Final Notice”) I made my way back to the Drew

residence. After showering and dressing in my new sky blue cotton suit, I walked into

the kitchen. Our housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, was frosting my birthday cake and when

she saw me she smiled. “You look lovely Nancy!” she said fondly.

I chortled gaily.

“You’re too kind, Hannah,” “Where’s Dad?”.

“Your father is in the study,” Hannah answered. “Do hurry though, Bess and George

should be here any minute.”

I nodded, and then hurried down to the study, where my father, Carson Drew, was

examining some old case files. “Hello, Nancy!” he greeted me warmly.

“Hi, Dad!” I said, giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“Any new cases?” I asked hopefully.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Dad answered slowly, “but today should be a relaxing one. Think

about your party and your friends, not mysteries!”

“I’ll try!” I laughed. Just as I turned to go, I heard the chirp of our doorbell.

“Bess and George are here!” I called excitedly to Hannah.

I touched up my titian hair quickly in the hall mirror and then rushed to let my

friends in. “Hello, girls!” I grinned happily as I threw open the door. Bess and George

gave joyful smiles as they stood in the doorway. “Hey, Nan!” said George, Bess’ dark

haired cousin, who loved her boyish name.

“We couldn’t wait to see you, Nancy,” piped pretty and slightly plump Bess (no one in

River Heights is as attractive as I am). “You’ll just love your present!” she added,

thrusting a parcel into my hand. It was wrapped in shining white paper and tied with a

mint green bow.

“Sorry, I took so long, girls!” I heard a voice say. Suddenly, a another girl made

her way onto our porch. She was tall and slender, with raven black hair and

luminous blue eyes, which were set off by the pleasing purple dress she was wearing.

She was rather pretty--almost striking. “Oh, yes,” Bess said smiling, “this is Anne

Dawson, Nancy. She’s a neighbor of ours.” At this Anne glided forward and extended

her hand to shake mine, “It’s very nice to meet you,” she smiled. “I do hope I won’t be

intruding too much if I join your celebration.”

A bit taken aback, I never the less forced a smile.

“Not at all,”

Bess, George, and Anne made their way into the living room while I explained our

new arrangements to Hannah in the kitchen. I then joined my friends, who were all

seated on our teal couch by the window. “So,” I said as I sat down in an arm chair, “How

long have you known Bess and George, Anne?” Anne flashed a smile and exchanged

fond looks with the two cousins, “Well, we’ve known each other since grade school.” I

stifled a grimace, Bess and George had only known me since high school. I then

chastised myself for being possessive of the two girls. How unbecoming!

Hannah broke the uncomfortable silence that followed by ambling in with a tray

of cookies and a tea. “Here you are, girls,” she said cheerfully. “Thank you, Mrs.

Gruen,” Anne said, and introduced herself. Before I knew it, she and Hannah were

engaged in a conversation regarding cleaning, Hannah’s favorite subject. As they were

talking, I couldn’t help but feel an almost burning pang in my stomach. What was this

feeling? I had never felt such a mixture of anger and irritation or self pity….I was

jealous! I, Nancy Drew, was jealous of Anne!

Not wanting my feelings to show through, I asked Anne what some of her

interests and hobbies were. “Oh, well, I’m a bit of an amateur detective,” she began, “I

help my father, Alan Dawson, with many of his cases.” Alan Dawson? The lawyer who

almost always beat Dad out for the big cases? Not only that, but she was an amateur

detective as well? I was nearly fuming, but my frenzied thoughts were interrupted by

Anne’s peppy voice again. “Just this morning my father told me that I’m to travel to

New Orleans next week to solve a case involving a lost will,” she said happily.

“Oh, Anne that’s fantastic!” Bess cried enthusiastically.

“Yes.” I said, gritting my teeth.

Anne had taken that mystery from me! She was stealing my thunder, and I didn’t

like it. Not at all. My fists clenched, I asked one final question, “Anne, how old

are you?” The girl made an irritating ring of laughter, “Why, I’m sixteen.” So, Anne was

beautiful, intelligent, polite, kind, popular, had a father with a higher job than mine, a

good sense of style, and was an amateur detective who got my cases, even though she

was only sixteen.

That’s when I lost it. A low growl came from my throat and I surged up from my

chair. I picked up the tea tray and savagely threw it against the wall, loving the sound of

the china shattering. I vaguely heard the three girls cry out in horror and Bess shakily ask,

“Nancy, what’s gotten into you?”

“Shut up!” I roared in her face.

“Hypers, Nancy--” George started, but I whirled around shrieking,

“Don’t you dare say that stupid catchphrase!”

Hannah, hearing the commotion, had rushed in. “Nancy what on earth--”

“Bring me the cake!” I commanded. She obeyed, and seconds later came in with the

confection. I grabbed it and shoved it into my mouth with my bare hands, making sure to

wipe it on Anne’s dress. She knew better than to make a fuss over it. The girls rushed

out, terrified, and the party was officially over.

My father entered my bedroom later that evening(where Hannah had proceeded to lock

me after the incident) , obviously disappointed in my behavior. “Nancy, I’m horrified,”

he said, “I’m going to have to revoke your amateur detective license.” Producing a pair

of gleaming scissors, my father cut my license into a million pieces right in front of me.

“No!” I moaned in horror.

I am currently writing this from River Heights’ Asylum for Dangerous and

Unstable Women and Teens. Hannah and my father have broken off all contact with me,

as well as Bess and George. Anne recently received an award for solving twice as many

cases as I did, and is dating now Ned Nickerson, my old boyfriend. My nineteenth

birthday turned out to be the worst day of my life, but now I really enjoy reading

Carolynn Keene’s mystery stories about me. They’re why I haven’t lost my mind…yet.

The author's comments:
Almost everyone knows Nancy Drew. Titian haired, attractive, and always slender. Immecably dressed and well-mannered. Immensely popular in high school, and adored by all of River Heights. Whether it was picking a lock or outsmarting an assailant, it seemed that there was no one-- River Heights or elsewhere--who could ever hold a candle to Nancy Drew. At least, until Anne Dawson came along...

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