Hitched

54

A tired and bored Phoebe Muller was babysitting at her next-door neighbor’s apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Sixteen years old, she’d been out late with a bunch of kids the night before and was grateful that the rambunctious two-year-old in her care had just gone down for a nap.

Settling on the couch, she pulled her school books out of her all-purpose bag. Always a multitasker, she then picked up the remote control and flicked on the television. Phoebe wanted to watch that new weekend cable show while she did her homework. Patrick and Jeannie were cool.

As she watched the segment about the missing Joyce, she started to come to life. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Like…oh, my God! she thought. Could it be?

Last night her group had gone to the movies and then to a diner. They’d walked past the popular Club Zee and looked longingly at the people being admitted.

“We’ve got to get some fake IDs, man,” Dirk had said as they ambled along. “I don’t want to wait another five years to go to Club Zee!” A few blocks later, on a small side street, he had spotted a little black purse on the ground and picked it up. He fished out the eighty dollars cash, stuck it in his pocket, then looked at the driver’s license inside.

“Thanks, Joyce,” he’d said, before dropping the license back inside.

“We should turn the purse and money in to the police,” Phoebe had said.

“Goody Two-shoes,” Dirk had said derisively, throwing the purse at one of his friends, and they’d run down the street playing catch with it. Several blocks later, Dirk tossed the small black bag on the ground between two cars.

Phoebe knew there was no fighting with Dirk. And she didn’t want to give the purse to the police with the money gone. She hoped Joyce would somehow get the purse back anyway.

But now someone named Joyce was missing. It must be the same person, Phoebe thought, and it might help the police if they knew where her purse had been before Dirk moved it. Phoebe realized she couldn’t call the police from her cell phone or from the Darbers’ phone. They’d be able to trace the call easily, and she didn’t want to give her name. The baby was asleep, so she couldn’t go out and use a pay phone.

Maybe I should just forget it, she thought. Chances are it won’t make a difference. But as she tried to concentrate on her homework, Phoebe couldn’t stop thinking about the missing Joyce.