Missing Brandy (A Fina Fitzgibbons Brooklyn Mystery Book 2) by Susan Russo Anderson

Coltran asked me to talk about him in class. Johnny must have remembered. It killed me to look at Johnny’s face after I said no, and I almost changed my mind, but then I thought, I should let myself be seen with Johnny Fulcrum? Heather would have said yes just to be nice, but I’m not that good. I didn’t tell Heather about Johnny asking me to the Yankee game. I didn’t tell anyone.
    Mrs. Coltran had a baby girl last Tuesday, so now we have a substitute teacher. Old. Has to be at least forty-five with gray hair. She thinks I should be in advanced reading, but she dresses like Granny used to when Granny dressed, so what does she know.
    Heather has three brothers and five sisters, and she said I shouldn’t complain because I have the whole house to myself, and all I have to do is close the door to my room. When her oldest sister leaves, Heather can have her room, but that won’t be for a long time because her sister’s only sixteen. The only private place Heather has is in the bathroom, but she has to share, and then there’s school—if she eats her lunch fast and goes back into the classroom, she can be alone. She likes to come over, and we sit and talk in my room. Sometimes Julia and Ginger come over, too, and we can really talk. We cover everything, boys mostly, especially Zac Efron. Julia and Ginger both have this humongous thing for him. I’m not sure about him. He’s cute and all, and I like looking at him, but really, he doesn’t turn me all gushy like he does Ginger. Still, he’s cuter than any boy at Packer Collegiate. Well, maybe that’s not true, but not anyone who’d talk to me.
    My friends and I talk mostly about boys. Julia says Johnny Fulcrum is sweet on me, and Ginger starts to laugh and says, “He IS!” in that squeaky voice of hers and holds a hand to her mouth. “No,” I say, “I know he doesn’t like me, not at all, please say he doesn’t like me.” Heather says he’s kind of cute, and Ginger squeals, “How COULD you! Got zits like pineapples!” “Well, he told my brother he likes you,” Julia says. Julia has a brother who’s real good looking. He’s a sophomore, which is why Julia knows a lot. Anyway, her brother’s grin is cool even though he still wears braces. His smile’s going to be total cool when he’s finished with the metal. Sometimes I see him on Joralemon or in the hall waiting outside Julia’s homeroom. Now if Julia’s brother asked me to a Yankee game, I’d say sure, but he never would.
    That’s the good thing about Packer Collegiate. They have this program after senior year where you can study at Oxford for a summer, but from the time you’re in kindergarten, you know you’re going to college. That’s what it’s all about, the teachers say. I don’t buy that totally, but maybe it’s true, I guess.
    There’s a lot of waiting when you’re thirteen. Right now I’m thinking Arizona State, someplace as far away from here as I can get, as long as my friends go, too. But getting back to Packer, you get to spend your whole life in one school, from kindergarten through high school, which means the teachers get to know us, and we see a lot of Desirables. That’s what Agnes calls older boys. Agnes is going to be a writer. She spends time reading the dictionary and stuff, especially the Urban Dictionary. She says you’ve got to put the right word in its proper slot. Call a spade a spade, Dad would say. He used to grade me on knowing what I really feel inside. Right before he died, I’d gotten up to a fifty percent, but I know I’ve slipped some since then. Still, my Johnny Fulcrum decision was a good one, even though his eyes kind of haunt me.
    When we don’t talk about boys or clothes or music, we squeeze in teachers and parents. Heather says her mom’s busy all the time, but she knows she loves her by the way she looks at her, like she’s the only person in the whole world, and whenever she has something big to tell her, Heather says her mom stops