Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(30)
“But after school, not on school property . . . ?”
Tricia looked me in the eye. “I can’t control everything. And yes, anger the wrong group of kids and any high schooler’s life gets tough. I’ve heard stories of brawls involving chains, studded belts, baseball bats. When I tell parents their kids are under a lot of stress, I’m not lying.”
“Roxy was an outsider. A loner,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Meaning she had that stress.”
“Yes.”
“And no friends at all to help her?”
Tricia hesitated. “There’s a boy. Right now, that’s the only person I can picture her with. Another loner type, to tell you the truth. Sometimes, you’d see them sitting together in the commons area.”
“Is he her boyfriend?”
“I don’t know.”
“His name?”
“Mike. Mike Davis. He’s, um, a bit different. But he and Roxy seem to get along. Frankly, I was grateful to see them together. He is another student for whom school life can be pretty rough.”
“Do you have his address?”
“Yes. But I’m not going to give it to you.”
I stilled, looked at the guidance counselor.
“Flora Dane,” she said quietly. “It took me a bit. When you first appeared, I had that sense of déjà vu. It’s because I’ve seen you on TV. You helped rescue the college student last fall.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t live next to Roxy.”
“I care about the dogs,” I offered, because I had to say something.
“Why are you really here?”
“I know Roxy. She’s part of a . . . support group I belong to. We’re worried about her.”
“A support group?”
I didn’t offer any more details. After another moment, the guidance counselor nodded slightly. “What happened to Roxy’s family?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But you don’t think she did it?”
“I think she’s in trouble. Have you noticed any changes in the past few weeks? Is she late more often? Stressed, missing homework assignments, mentioned anything to anyone?”
“No. But it’s a very large school. I can go days without seeing a student. Unless something specific happens that’s brought to my attention . . .”
I nodded.
“I can’t give you a student’s information,” the counselor said at last. “But if you want to give me your cell, I can ask Roxy’s friend to call you.”
“Fair enough.”
“The dogs really have been found?”
“Yes. And they really do need someplace to stay.”
“All right. I can work on that, too.”
I rose to standing. “Thank you.”
At the last minute, as Tricia opened the door, she hesitated. “Remember what I was saying about this group of Hispanic girls trying to recruit Roxy?”
I nodded.
“I’m told Roxy’s younger sister, Lola, is more than just a little involved in the gang. I don’t know if you’ve ever met Lola, but she’s very pretty. Dangerously so, for a thirteen-year-old girl.”
I waited.
“She’s also, from what I’ve been told, very aware of her own looks.”
“Manipulative,” I filled in.
“I don’t think she joined the group just to hang out. From what I’ve heard and seen, Roxy is the responsible member of her family, while where her younger sister goes, trouble usually follows.”
“Are we talking drugs, violence?”
“I’m not sure. But a bunch of rabid teen girls? Anything’s possible.”
Chapter 12
Name: Roxanna Baez
Grade: 11
Teacher: Mrs. Chula
Category: Personal Narrative
What Is the Perfect Family? Part II
My little sister and I stand in the ratty living room. The pinch-faced lady is with us. She has a tight grip on my shoulder, as if she thinks I’ll bolt any minute. On the other side of me, Lola is wedged up so close I can feel her trembling.
Manny is gone. I can’t think about it. Lola won’t stop crying. The police took him out the door, and there was another lady. No purple blouse, but a white shirt and the same firm/sorry expression. We’d never even seen her pull up. Somehow, they’d outflanked us. I feel betrayed, but I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m just disappointed in myself, because for all my hard work, I didn’t see this coming.
Pack, the pinch-faced lady told us. Pack what? Lola stared at me, so I pulled her away. We had our school backpacks; that was it. I took ours down from the hooks, refusing to look at Manny’s red Iron Man bag. He hadn’t even been allowed clothes. Or his favorite car. Why hadn’t he been allowed to take anything?
My pack is powder blue. It fit me when I was eight. Now, it’s tight in the shoulders, but still gets the job done. Lola has a hot-pink backpack. Newer. Manny’s dad, Hector, bought it for her before he left. He was always nice to Lola and me. He stayed with our mom for five years, which was five more years than we had with our own fathers.
Clothes. Laundry money ran out weeks ago. I’d been washing underwear and socks in the sink. They were still damp, draped over radiators, windowsills, anything I could find. Wordlessly, I handed Lola hers, then took mine. Lola had a stuffed blue dog. I found our toothbrushes.