Panic by Sharon M. Draper

car with a large box that held the cake, plus a full meal in a half dozen little plastic containers, which her mother kept, of course, neatly stacked, sized, and color coded. And she realized that those little containers were order. Somewhere, there was order. She started the car feeling more hopeful than she had all day.
    But when she got to Diamond’s house, she was stunned by all the activity. Three police cars were parked in the driveway. Several police officers huddled on the front lawn.
    A television news van with a huge satellite extending from the top of it was positioned two doors down.
    Yellow crime-scene tape encircled the yard. Why the drama tape? Mercedes thought. It’s not like a crime happened here. Maybe it was just to keep the crowd away—a good-size group of people, maybe neighbors, maybe just nosy folks who’d heard the story on the news, hovered just outside the tape. Many had their cameras and cell phones out.
    What do they think they’ll get a picture of? Mercedes thought, getting angry. Diamond’s cat? Her front door?
    More police patrolled the taped area, warning onlookers to keep back.
    She opened her door, then hesitated, not sure what to do or say. Grabbing the box of food items, she slammed her car door and then stomped up to the first police officer she saw. She didn’t wait for him to try to keep her out.
    â€œMy name is Mercedes Ford. I am Diamond’s best friend. I am delivering this box for my mother, and I need to get into that house right now.”
    The officer was unimpressed. “Driver’s license, ma’am.”
    Mercedes wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or annoyed to be called ma’am, but she set the box down, pulled her wallet from her purse, and handed over her license.
    He examined it as if she might have been a criminal on the loose. Even though it was broad daylight, he took out his flashlight and peered at the license more closely.
    Just as she was about to lose her patience, Mercedes heard a small voice yell out her name. “Mercedes! Mama says come in! Hurry!”
    The officer turned to see Shasta peeking out the front door. Cameras clicked at the movement and sound. Shasta disappeared in a hurry.
    The policeman returned Mercedes’ license and lifted the yellow tape so that she could enter the yard. She was aware of being filmed and photographed as she made a quick dash to the house. Instead of entering through the front door, she went in the side entrance, the kitchen door she always used when she visited.
    Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief. She went to place the food on the counter, but found there was barely enough room for her box. Dozens of store-bought cakes and pies, casserole dishes, soda bottles, and boxes of KFC chicken were already piled high, so she set her box on the kitchen table.
    Mrs. Landers, her hair uncombed, her face blotchy, her eyes red, grabbed Mercedes and hugged her close. She began to weep. Mercedes found herself crying as well.
    â€œThank you for coming,” Mrs. Landers said, grabbing a paper towel and wiping her eyes. “It’s so good to see you. You give me hope.”
    â€œI’m so sorry, Mrs. L.” Mercedes’ voice wavered. “I . . . I feel like I’m to blame here. We shoulda stayed together.”
    â€œOh, Mercedes. Please don’t give yourself that burden.” Diamond’s mom hugged her even tighter. “A horrible, horrible person did this. Not you.”
    â€œYeah, but I don’t know how else to feel.”
    Mrs. Landers stepped back and took Mercedes’ hands in hers. “We need your strength—maybe your brainpower.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYou’re a teenager. You and Diamond think a lot alike. Where would you go? What would you do if youwere caught in something . . . terrible? We’ve got profilers here who might like to talk to you.”
    â€œI’ll do anything! Just tell