Don't Scream (9780307823526) by Joan Lowery Nixon Page B

We’ll find your cat, Jessie. He’s going to be all right.”
    â€œThanks, Mom,” I said, because she looked asmiserable as I felt. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about the can of tuna—the clue that Pepper was never coming back.
    When Mark came by to walk with me to school, he didn’t mention Pepper, and I was glad. I guess we both knew the tears might start again.
    But Mark told Lori, who gave me a quick hug. “Remember when Pepper was stuck in somebody’s toolshed?” she asked. “I bet he’ll come home sometime today.”
    â€œI hope so,” I said. I had to keep the knowledge about the tuna can to myself.
    Scott seemed upset by the news. He tried to hide his feelings, but I could see them, and they puzzled me. “I’m sorry, Jess,” he told me, but it wasn’t sorrow I saw in his eyes before he looked away. For an instant I thought it was fear.
    I managed to get through most of the day by deliberately banishing Pepper from my thoughts and concentrating hard on what was going on in each class. The only bright spot was that when I tacked up my volunteer chart in social problems class, a lot of the kids signed up.
    In journalism class Mr. Clark first handed back the papers and then went over the headlines we had written. I’d been given a B plus, and he’d written a note to tell me my third headline was “right on the button.” That should have made me feel great, but my brain felt like a big, blank hole. I couldn’t feel a thing.
    I automatically took notes as Mr. Clark continued with his list of places where we could find public information about people.
    It was boring until Robin asked, “Does anyone
really
use all this stuff to find out about people?”
    â€œThey do, or I wouldn’t be giving it to you,” Mr. Clark answered.
    â€œYeah, well, like, I mean not just for a test, but for real?”
    Mr. Clark screwed up his forehead and rubbed his nose. I figured he was trying to keep his patience. Finally he said, “Journalists use these sources to gain information, Robin. So do private investigators.”
    â€œPrivate eyes?” Robin said. “Cool!”
    â€œHow about computer checks?” Eric asked. “Isn’t it about time to go over all the things we can find out through computers?”
    â€œWe’ll touch on information we can get through computers,” Mr. Clark said, but then he returned to the point that Robin had asked about. “Do you understand the importance of being able to discover information about anyone in order to write an accurate, factual story?”
    Robin nodded.
    â€œI’m going to make this an extra-credit assignment,” he said. “For your own interest, those of you who want to can pick a well-known person and try some of these sources. See what you can come up with.”
    Mr. Clark went on—but without me this time, because my mind was shooting off ideas like firecrackers.
Okay, Scott Alexander
, I thought,
I’m going to see exactly how much I can find out about
you
!
    * * *
    A FTER SCHOOL I hung around, talking to some of the kids, until I saw Lori leave with Scott. They were heading for Lori’s house. That gave me the chance to follow Mr. Clark’s list from the beginning. First I’d talk to Scott’s aunt or to their neighbors. I headed toward the Heritage Place Apartments on Dale Street.
    The building was a huge, brick-veneered complex that sprawled over an entire block. I opened one of the double doors that led into a small lobby, which was decorated in a muddy brown and yellow beige, and knocked on the door labeled Manager.
    An orange-haired woman opened the door. “Yeah?” she asked, without really looking at me, and took a long swallow from a can of diet soda.
    â€œI came to see a friend of mine, but I don’t know the apartment number,” I said.
    â€œWhat’s the name?”
    â€œHis name