The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)

The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)

Carolyn Keene



CHAPTER ONE



An Old Friend Returns


“I NEED A THING,” BESS said with a sigh between sips of hot chocolate.

“Christmas was just last month. What more could you possibly need?” George shot back.

Bess rolled her eyes. “Not like that. I mean a thing that defines who I am.”

“I don’t get it. We all know who you are. You’re Bess,” George said with a shrug, turning her attention back to a game on her phone.

George and Bess are cousins and my two best friends. Even though they seem like total opposites—George doesn’t care about looks or clothes, while Bess is a bit of a fashionista; George loves technology and always has the latest gadget, while Bess prefers snail mail to e-mail—they’re as close as sisters. Sometimes, though, George can get so caught up in her Twitter feed that she doesn’t notice the people sitting right in front of her.

In general, I’m somewhere in between: I like to look nice and put together, but I don’t keep with the latest trends; and I like my smartphone, but I’m not obsessed with it. Sometimes I have to be a bridge between them. I could tell this was one of those times.

Bess had been acting weird all day. We’d gone into town to do some errands—mostly just to get out of the house—and she had barely said a word. At first I thought it was the weather—a cold snap had moved in overnight with the threat of snow later—but even after we’d stopped at the Coffee Corner, our favorite café in River Heights and George’s place of employment, to get warm, she still hadn’t cheered up.

“What’s going on, Bess?” I asked as gently as I could. Ironically, Bess is the most emotionally intuitive of the three of us. Whenever George or I are upset, Bess knows exactly what to do or say to make us feel better. I wished Bess could talk to Bess, but I’d try my best instead.

“Remember New Year’s Eve?” Bess asked.

I nodded. Bess’s parents throw a big party every New Year’s Eve. Each year they pick a different theme. One year it was An Evening in Wonderland, and they hung at least a hundred different clocks on the walls, replaced the furniture in one room with doll furniture, spread stuffed bunnies throughout the house, and made place mats out of playing cards. They even hung half a mannequin dressed in a light-blue dress with a white apron from the hallway ceiling, so it looked like Alice was falling through the rabbit hole into the house. It was always the party of the year, and half of River Heights attended.

George, Bess, and I have been going to that party for as long as we can remember. When we were younger, Bess’s parents would herd us up to her room and we’d be asleep long before midnight. As we got older, we kept the tradition of heading up to Bess’s room early, only now we watched the ball drop in Times Square on TV, drank glasses of sparkling cider, and shared our resolutions for the coming year.

This year had been no different. The theme of the party had been the 1960s, and George, Bess, and Ned, my boyfriend, had scoured As You Wore, the vintage shop in town, for the perfect outfits. Bess’s parents had outdone themselves with the decorations. Entering the house felt like stepping through a time warp. The walls, the furniture, and the rugs were all from the 1960s or earlier. They’d even swapped out their TV for an older model. We ate a ton of food, danced, took goofy pictures in the photo booth the Marvins had rented, and headed up to Bess’s room to watch the ball drop. It had seemed like Bess was having as good a time as the rest of us, so I couldn’t imagine what would have made her upset.

“Sure. I remember New Year’s,” I said.

“Do you remember my resolution?” Bess asked. I thought back, but it wasn’t coming to mind. Bess noticed my hesitancy. “George said she wanted to crack five thousand followers on Twitter. Ned said he wanted to make the dean’s list. You said you wanted to beat your personal record for solving a case.”

Suddenly it all came rushing back. “You said you wanted to floss more,” I said.

Bess nodded glumly. I could see tears brimming in her eyes, and I felt like a horrible friend because I still didn’t know why this was making her so upset.

It was especially frustrating because I’m an amateur detective. I help people track down stolen goods, or figure out who’s behind a blackmail attempt. My dad’s a prosecutor, and he says that I solve more cases than some of the detectives he works with, so I should have been able to put the clues together and figure out why Bess was so sad. I understood that flossing wasn’t the most exciting resolution in the world, but it didn’t seem worth crying over.

Fortunately, Bess noticed my confusion. “You all have your things. Like George is a computer nerd.”

“Hey!” George piped up. She had finally noticed Bess’s mood and had put down her phone.

“Excuse me. A computer geek,” Bess corrected.

“Thank you,” George replied.

“You’re a detective. Ned is a brain. But I don’t know who I am or what I’m good at or even what I want to be when I get older.”

I thought for a second before answering, because I wanted to get this right. I finally understood what Bess was saying, and there was some truth to it: she wasn’t as easily categorized as me, George, or even Ned, but that didn’t mean she had no identity.