I hand her a tissue and wait till she stops crying.
After she composes herself I say, “When you woke up, were your clothes on?”
She nods.
“Then why do you think someone undressed you?”
“At school today, Rick Hooper said something. Right out-of-the-blue.”
“Was Rick at the house that night?”
“No, ma’am. He’s a nerd.”
I frown. “Why would you say that?”
“I just meant that Rick wouldn’t have been invited to ride around town with the cool guys.”
“What did Rick say to you at school today, out-of-the-blue?”
“He gave me this sly sort of grin and said, ‘I heard you passed out at the sleepover, Strawberry.’”
“Is that your nickname?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You know how some people have tattoos on their lower back, like one of those fancy script things, with maybe a heart in the middle?”
I nod, wondering where she’s taking me with this conversation.
She says, “I always wondered what it would look like to have one. Of course, my mom would never go for that! So anyway, when I was in my closet getting dressed to go to the sleepover I noticed an old sticker book from when I was a kid. I peeled off a little sticker of a strawberry, and put it…you know, down there.”
“Under your panties?”
She looks down at her hands, and I notice her ears and neck turning red. And her cheeks.
“Yes, ma’am. I was hoping to find something bigger I could stick on my lower back, just to—you know, look at it? Just for fun? I’d look at it in the mirror, then throw it away. But all I had in the sticker book was the little strawberry, so I put it in a private place in the front. I looked at it and thought it looked kind of cool, but then the doorbell rang, and I threw my clothes back on and forgot all about it.”
“This happened the night of the sleepover?”
She nods.
“While you were still at your house?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who rang your door bell?”
“Parker. Her mom gave me a ride to Kelli’s house.”
“Did you tell Parker about the strawberry sticker?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I forgot all about it when Parker showed up. But even if I had remembered, I’d be too embarrassed to talk about it.”
“Why? You’re best friends. It’s sort of funny.”
“What if she told someone? I’d be mortified!”
“Why?”
“Seriously, Ms. Ripper? A strawberry?”
I shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”
She gives me a look of concern.
I say, “Parker’s mom picked her up from Kelli’s around midnight?”
YOU ARE READING
Promise You Won't Tell?
Teen Fiction"I think something might have happened to me Saturday night. Something bad." Private Investigator Dani Ripper's client list is nuttier than the Looney Tunes conga line, but she diligently solves one crazy case after another, waiting for a game-chang...
