Jex Malone by C.L. Gaber, V.C. Stanley Page B

need to snoop any longer.
    That said, you will not use your Drew-Id skills to snoop on a boy you like in class, which just belittles the entire idea behind this group. You can, however, be hired for $1 by a friend or fellow D-ID to unearth things for her. It just takes the romance out of everything if you spy for yourself.
    The Drew-Ids founders respect the ways of great girl snoops of the past, including Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and the grandma of all snoops, Angela Lansbury. (Face it: You enjoyed watching some of those Murder, She Wrote episodes with your grandmother.) If you need to go undercover, you will use their names.
    You will never do anything entirely illegal in the name of official Drew-Ids work, but there is no exact definition of “entirely.”
    You will never choose any activity with a guy over what needs to be done for the good of society. Also, romantic heartbreak is no excuse for ignoring your D-IDS duties.
    You will keep no documentation of your cases. The written word is tricky, and parents have a way of doing their own snooping when you’re not home. So be smart, keep facts in your head, and in rare cases of paper trails, shred, shred, shred.
    You will never ever ever leave a scene without your Drew-Ids sisters. Ever.
    You must never forget about your Drew-Ids sisters, even if you’re thousands of miles away from them. They’re only a phone call away for a quick consultation.
    In the end, you’re working to save the world. Now, get out there. Stay hungry and alive. And keep your nose out of nothing.
    And remember the number one rule. If you don’t stand for something, you’re going to fall for everything.
    In keeping with rule 7 (no documentation), Cissy, Deva, Nat, and I immediately put all of our doodles and the bylaws that Nat jotted down through my dad’s very professional shredder.
    Shred, shred, shred. It is the law.
    Our law.

Chapter 7
Famous Girl Detective Quote:
    â€œUndoubtedly, we shouldn’t be doing this. We should be studying for our math finals or doing anything else.”
    â€”Trixie Belden
    Is this situation totally nuts?
I ask myself the zillion-dollar question while pretending to be asleep.
As if I could sleep.
Daddy Dearest has to work late tonight. Not his fault. He will make it up to me.
Blah. Blah. Blah
.
    Whatever. Whatever.
    So I pretend the pull out couch with the pancake-flat mattress is a king-size pillow-topped bed at some swanky hotel. Obviously, it’s some five-star joint that allows big drooling dogs. The pooch is at my feet licking my toes, and she is pretty cute while being totally starved for attention. We have so much in common.
    With the air conditioning so cold I can almost see my breath, I pull the covers over my head, light things up using a police department–issued flashlight I found in the garage, and slide out the first thick file in Patty’s missing persons case.
    Missing person.
That’s what it still says marked on the file. They never could call it a murder case since they never found the body.
    This much I know.
    Every now and then, I’d overhear my parents talking about the case when Dad would make his weekly call to check on me. Not often, but usually around the anniversary of Patty Is Gone Day, I would hear my mom say on her end of the conversation: “Yes, John, I know what day it is. How could I possibly forget the big case? The only case.”
    Mom and Dad usually don’t talk long on the phone when and if he calls. Usually it’s just a “Hey, how are you? Good, glad to hear everything is fine and Jex isn’t wounded or dead” exchange of pleasantries. I know Dad then rushes to say, “Put Jex on the phone because I’ve only got a minute to talk.”
    That’s his escape hatch for me, too, just in case we don’t have anything to say to each other that week or nothing big has happened like I somehow invented a cure for cancer or rocketed to the moon.