I was sitting on the bleachers reading a Batman comic and chewing on a candy cigarette when I noticed the girl looking up at me from the sidelines. She was a pretty, sparkle-shiny blonde, wearing a bedazzled jean jacket and a pink backpack with little butterflies all over it. She was looking at me kind of doubtfully, like she was trying to decide whether I was worth talking to. I didn't like the look.
"Are you Andrew?" she called up at me, all of a sudden.
"Drew for short," I said, peering at her over the comic. "Who are you?" I'd seen this girl around school, but I didn't know her name.
"Tricia," she said. "Tricia Nielsen. I want to talk to you."
"You are talking to me."
"I want to talk to you about something important."
I looked at my watch. "Recess is over in ten minutes. Better make it quick."
She climbed up the bleachers, but didn't sit down; instead, she looked around, scanning the area for other kids. "I wouldn't want anyone to see us talking," she explained snootily. "I wouldn't want anyone to think we were friends."
"I wouldn't want that either," I retorted. "What can I do for you?"
She gave my Batman comic a disgusted look. "You like Batman?"
I shrugged. "He's the world's greatest detective."
"Is that what you are? A detective?"
"I'm just a kid."
"You found that missing girl. Rebecca, right? I heard about that."
Hearing the name out loud was like having a finger jabbed in my eye. Rebecca was a bad memory. "I didn't find her," I said. "The police did. I just...pointed them in the right direction."
She studied me for a second. "What grade are you in?"
"Fifth."
"I'm in fifth, too. How old are you?"
"Ten."
"I just turned eleven," she said proudly. It was important to her to establish this hierarchy; it put me in my place. "I'm older than you."
"Congratulations. What do you want?"
She leaned in close. She smelled like a girl, like sweet shampoo and Barbie doll plastic. "I want you to find something for me," she said conspiratorially.
"What did you lose?"
"A necklace," she said. "My sister's necklace. Only I didn't really lose it. It was stolen."
And Drew proceeds to get himself mixed up in this mystery, which takes place in the late 1980's and which features all kinds of references to the kid culture of that decade. I think it would be a fun novel to write, but like I mentioned last month, I'm having a hard time with the outline, and I'm afraid it wouldn't be a very long novel, either -- probably only about 30,000 words, which would actually make it more of a novella.