Deadly Pink by Vivian Vande Velde

and an accent my dad had immediately recognized from his travels—What was it? Rhode Island? Connecticut?—despite the fact...“Ooo,” I said, “I remember: She was named after one of those western states. Dakota?”
    My mother gave me a how-did-I-ever-come-to-spawn-you look. “Georgia,” she corrected me. She asked Ms. Bennett, “Are you sure that equipment of yours isn't damaging Grace's brain?”
    “Nope,” Ms. Bennett said. “That would be the New York State educational system.”
    I took that to mean that either Dakota or Georgia wasn't one of those western states.
    In any case, I was realizing that on her visits home, Emily hadn't talked much about her roommate. Now that I thought about it, she hadn't talked much about anybody at all. She'd just say “the girls in the dorm” or “someone from my sociology class.”
    Adam pressed a couple of buttons on his hand-held, then shook his head. “Your mother gave us a few names before we picked you up from school. Georgia Chappell was one of them. She hasn't returned our call.”
    Ms. Bennett said, “Tell Sybella she should switch to the land line and give all the no-answers on Emily's contact list a second try, just in case.”
    Just in case. I knew she meant that Frank Lupiano might not be the only supposed friend who was screening his calls to avoid Emily.
    I asked, “What about Danielle Gardner?” Danielle was Emily's best friend—had been since middle school. As good as Emily was with computers, that's how good Danielle was with artsy things like textile design. They had planned to go to RIT together. And even though they would have been in different programs, they were going to apply to be roommates. But Danielle hadn't been accepted at RIT. She'd been put on the waiting list and told to reapply in January. I remembered Emily explaining to Mom and Dad that a lot of students would drop out after the first semester, and that Danielle was sure to get in and should take some of the basic requirements at MCC, the community college, so that the two of them could still graduate together in four years. I remembered Dad asking, “So is that what Danielle's going to do?” and Emily answering, “I guess.”
    I guess. That was pretty vague for best friends. And hard as I thought about it, I didn't have an end for that story—happy or otherwise. It was only at this moment that I realized we hadn't seen much of Danielle over the summer. Now it was March, and I simply couldn't remember ever hearing Emily say whether Danielle had followed her advice about MCC for the fall semester or—more important—whether she'd been accepted at RIT in January.
    Adam had been checking his hand-held. He nodded at Mom. “That was another of the names you gave us, but it wasn't on Emily's contact list.”
    Mom repeated the name: “Danielle Gardner. Yes, if anybody will know what's going on...”
    But Adam was shaking his head. “No Danielle. No Gardner.”
    Mom said, “Well ... Emily wouldn't need to have the number on her list. She'd know it by heart.”
    I may have mentioned Mom is not real good at technology. I told her, “It'd be on her speed dial.” A glance at Adam showed it wasn't.
    Mom said, “Mrs. Gardner—Tanya—she has her own business, doing sewing alterations at home, so she should be at the house. I'll talk to her,” and she held her hand out for the phone.
    One ring, two. I could tell when Danielle's mom picked up by the way my mother stood taller.
    “Tanya, this is Marilyn Pizzelli, Emily's mother ... Yes, yes, it has been a while ... Well, no, actually not...” Mom made a Come on, wrap it up gesture with her hand, even though we were the only ones who could see it. Finally, forcefully, probably interrupting, she said, “Tanya.” She took a deep breath. “Something serious has come up with Emily, and we're hoping Danielle can help. Is she home from school yet?” Mom looked confused. “Oh,” she said, “I was under the impression she was staying at