A/N: Some parts here may seem repetitive, non-descriptive, and loose, but I was trying to go for the effect of the story being told, not shown. If you can't tell from the first piece, the characters are loosely connected to each other. Also! Most grammar "slips" here are intentional; this is a narrative so it's in the character's voice.
[Jillian]
“Hey, Dad, it’s me. Jill.”
“Oh, hi sweetie—“
“ I was thinking…”
“Sweetheart, if this is anything about me not being home tonight, I want you to know, I’m really sorry about not being able to make it home—“
“I know, Dad. And it’s really okay. That’s not what I was calling about.”
“Oh?”
“Well, yeah. I was thinking, about lots of things, and I want to know if I can work on this case with you. ”
Dad stuttered and coughed.
“Please Dad? I won’t get in your way. I’ll be extra helpful, especially with the students. It would totally be easier for me to ask the students questions and stuff, because they would be around someone the commonly see. And, since I kind of knew Belinda, I could easily ask her friends and—“
“Okay, okay, I’ll think about it.” I knew he was making his answer a definite no in his head.
“Dad,” I whined, “please? Pretty please?”
“Jill, this is not a little child’s game, you know. This is a serious case, and we can’t disclose evidence to anyone, even if they are family.”
“I know Dad,” I rushed, “thanks! I’ll be your best partner on this. We’re going to find Belinda!”
I heard him sigh heavily before I slammed the phone on the receiver.
I’ve got a lot of calls to make. This will take a while.
[Robert]
Darnit, the stupid phone always chooses to ring at the worst possible times. When I’m watching a movie, in the shower, doing homework—if that phone had a neck, I would wring it right away to let it know how annoying it is.
Sliding my geometry book off the desk, I reached for it. The number on the screen looked vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember where I had seen it before. Reluctantly, I answered it.
“Hi, Robert! This is Jillian Bates, from school. You know, Westfield High? Jillian, the sophomore, with the –“
“I know who it is, Jill,” I said, making sure my voice sounded annoyed. “What do you want?”
“Well, I know how you’re really good at solving crossword puzzles and brain teasers and mysteries,” she laughed; it sounded falsely sweet, making me disgusted, “and, I was wondering if you wanted to help me solve a mystery?”
“What kind of mystery?” I grumbled.
“Oh, it’s a really big one. A really, really big one. You know that girl from school, Belinda? The one that went missing? I think her name was Belinda Ingle or something.”
“Yeah, what about her?”
“Do you want to?” Her voice was eager, impatience tugged at the corners of her words.
“Do I wanna what? I mean, if it involves doing something—”
“I don’t have much time, so if you could just call me—“
“No, no, wait. You mean… help solve Belinda’s mystery?”
“Of course,” she said, and I heard an unspoken “duh” lingering after her words, “what did you think?”
“Isn’t this something the police should handle? I mean—“
“My dad’s a cop, he’s letting me help, Robert.”
“Bu—“
“Are you in or not?”
“Jill, I don’t… we could get in troub—.”
“In or not?”
I sighed heavily, “I’m in.”
“Good. I’ve got a team to recruit. Five a.m. tomorrow morning outside the school.”
“Bu—“
She had already hung up. Sighing, I tried to return to my geometry, but the mystery of why Jillian chose me to help her distracted me from reading a single problem.
[Jenna]
Jill totally, like, dragged us out of the house in the dark of the night. Couldn’t the girl like, find someone else to pester? Not. She rang my phone, like, a thousand times before I gave in and had to like, promise to meet her outside of the school. It was totally freezing, too, it couldn’t have been more than zero degrees.
The little chatterbox totally rambled on and on about that lost girl, Belinda, talking about how we need to, like, help find her. I don’t want to help find her; she’s not that important. But Jill says we all need to help, like, bring her home and, like, show her support and her family support and stuff. It was all really boring until she told us about this so-called memo her dad got.
It could be made up, but I, like, totally don’t care if it’s made up or not. She needs us to help her decode it because it’s probably “vital to the case” or whatever she says. Looks totally free of clues to me.
I feel like some kind of sleuth being so important in this case. I’m really glad she chose me, too, because I can totally be a big help. Just like Nancy Drew.
I just hope she gets us under a roof before the weather ruins my hair.
[Joseph]
Not to talk bad about folks, but I reckon that Jill’s poppa is a really bad detective. What kind of responsible parent wants to let their kid know confidential law information, much less let them try and solve the case?
Sounds pretty darn irresponsible.
But, this some juicy stuff we’ve got here. I’m proud of Jillian for takin’ a stand and all. Just don’t want her getting hurt in this; then I’ll feel responsible.
She’s pretty good. I fancy one day she’ll make a detective herself. She’s great with interrogations. Really good.
She got herself a pretty steady team—me, Robert, Alyssa, Rodney, and Jenna—though I can’t see why she chose Jenna. Jill’s got some brains, though, so it’s probably all good reasoning. Or, maybe she’s just trying to get on Jenna’s soft side. She brought us some evidence—made us swear not to breathe a word to anyone other than our team about this.
People are startin’ to think we’ve made some kind of clique, but the only problem is, they can’t see what we’ve got in common. I hate to generalize, but we're all outcasts; Rodney's a dorky nerd, Jenna'a a reject prep, and people call me an emo. But, like I said, Jill’s got brains. She most likely knows what she’s doing.
Anyway, this evidence makes me feel like I’m really workin’. She’s got records of the last place Belle was seen at—some little cheap store on Fifth Avenue. Said she’ll get her dad to get the surveillance footage if she can. She brought this note, too. Her dad got it as a fax last night in the middle of the night, and she wasn’t supposed to see it. It’s supposed to have some message hidden, but we’re all too shallow to decode it.
There doesn’t seem to be any connection between these lines;
Last seen at 5th and Oak,
In the aisles of the store;
Belinda never made it home,
Rather she’s hanging with us.
A clock is ticking, time’s running out,
Rescue her before it’s too late or
You may never see her alive again.
We agreed it looked more to us all like a failed attempt at a poem of some sort. If the cops and us can’t figure it out, I doubt anyone can.
[Mrs. Reid; Old Miss Lady]
Goodness knows what has happened to today’s youth.
School today was a zoo—the children, have mercy, were trying to find out what happen to that poor child, Miss Ingle. They all seem to be inventing stories about what happened—running in and out of my office every millisecond. I didn’t even have a moment to finish my first cup of coffee.
The sheriffs came to school today, along with some detectives. They wanted to interview the kids, and mercy, did the kids want to be interviewed. Such a fuss it was! Not only did every one of them have a new unbelievable story, but, not one of them could remember what Belinda was wearing the day of her disappearance.
I have no idea what Rodney has to say—he was supposed to walk Belinda home, but he had football practice. Mercy, he sat by me the whole time, chin to his chest, not speaking a word. Poor child didn’t move until the officers had gone.
[Rodney]
I don’t know where to start. I remember Belinda wearing a pink sweater and dark skinny jeans. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, too. I remember everything about that day clearly.
I slipped a notepad from my bag and started recording my observations. It was hard to tell what was going on. It sounded just like a great big sea of animals.
Somehow, I felt that all of these clues lead to something. It’s like, I have the image and answers in my head, but I just can’t get the pieces to click…
Wait a minute.
“Robert, Robert!” I was so excited, I was nearly shouting. I caught the attention of the “Squad” as Jillian called it, and a few others. “I think I made a discovery… come with me.”
I ushered them into an empty classroom. They seemed annoyed; they were probably assuming that the nerd boy was calling them for something useless. I closed the door behind me.
“So, I t-think I’ve made a d-discovery.” My hands were trembling as I laid my pad on the desk.
“Yeah, and?” Jenna started tapping her heeled foot and blowing at her fingernails, as if she had something else to do.
“I think… see, if you do the math…”
They all groaned.
“Rod, we don’t have any time for equations,” Jill said softly, as if she wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings. I didn’t care; I pressed on.
“Robert, let me see that poem you got?”
“What poem, idiot?” a sarcastic smirk stretched across his lips. He seemed to doubt my ability to make sense. I knew I could come up with something.
“The fax, sir?”
Rolling his eyes, he pulled it out of his pocket. I looked at it and grinned.
“Guys, we’ve got a discovery.” They leaned closer. “Fifth Avenue and Oak Street cross at a four-way intersection. So, it’s possible to have two buildings on the corner of fifth and oak, right?”
“Right.”
“So, that 99-cent-store is on one corner, right?”
“Yeah… where are you going with this?” Robert rushed.
“Just listen—what’s on the other corner?” I watched each of their faces twist in thought before leaning over my pad to write down the hidden anagram; the first letters of each line in the poem.
LIBRARY.
[Librarian]
The case of Belinda Ingle raised such a hullaballoo of mischief; I had never seen the library as chaotic as it was two days after her disappearance.
First came the teenagers, forging that they were on an investigation. I shooed them away, telling them that a hall of books is no place for any evidence. Of course they didn’t like that too much, but they walked off to continue with their usual study group.
It wasn’t long before things started to get a bit noisy; those raucous teenagers started acting like they found a pot of gold, whooping and screaming the whole time. Figures it would be just as soon as I told them to hold their horses, does a real investigation squad come in.
[Alyssa]
I think I’m beginning to appreciate Rodney and his efforts, if you can’t call it falling for him. He is so intelligent, it makes me wonder if he had previous experience in investigations.
“Rodney?” I whispered when we were alone in the reference aisle.
“Hmm?” He didn’t take his eyes from the page he was reading; he just pushed his glasses further up his nose.
“Have you ever… done anything like this before?”
“Like… case work? Nope. All the experience I’ve got comes from comic books, movies and video games.”
My heart sank; I don’t know why I was hoping that he had. I was about to ask him what comic books he got his “experience” from when he shouted, pointing to the book in his hand.
I looked over his shoulder for a better look just as Robert and Jillian came running over to us.
It was a note dated two days back, scrawled in red ink.
I snatched the book from his hand, ignoring the note, and flipped the cover shut to look at the title.
Kidnappers and their common targets.
“Oh, my God.”
[Detective Orin]
Kidnapping cases are all the same—tedious.
I’m sure Ames and I could predict the way a case would close and we’d be right on the nail with accuracy.
Belinda Ingle wasn’t special in the least. She’s just got the news reporters siding with her, only they seem to be hiding in all the wrong places. She got the whole town siding with her. I kind of have to sympathize with her a bit; it can’t be fun getting kidnapped.
Bates made us come investigate the library. His daughter said that they came across some substantial clues, but who knows if those clues are even real. They could be faked just because the kids want attention.
Attention be darned, they’ve got no business on this case.
Made me mad to see a whole crowd of teenagers in the library. They don’t even appreciate the value of books these days. I didn’t even think twice before I did what I did—I just wanted them out.
“What are you kids doing in here?” I barked. “Get outta here now, this is a crime scene investigation. You’ve got no place here!”
They just stood there unblinkingly, like a pack of stubborn old mules. “Get a move on!”
Ames didn’t even stop me or anything; he just went behind the nearest stack of books.
“Officers,” one of the girls came forth from the group, holding a fat book in her hands. I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Whad’ya want?” God, I hate it when kids try to play the sympathetic sweet voice on you when it's evident you're mad.
We had a case to solve, and I sure didn’t want my time being wasted on a bunch of teens.
“Officer,” she repeated, “ we found something and, we think it’s evidence.”
[Ames]
I can’t say that any of us were happy having kids in on this case, but what I will say is that they moved us a good pace forward to a point where we could take over completely, although they didn’t want us to fully take over. The tallest boy said that after coming this far, there’s no way that they won’t persist to be of any help.
I’m beginning to wonder what Bates was thinking.
I told them to tell me exactly what happened, and got out my book to jot down notes.
After decoding a message received in an anonymous fax, they went to search the library, not knowing what to expect. They said there was a book pulled out, left in the middle of the aisle about kidnappers. Thumbing through it, they found a piece of paper with a call number for another book on page 99.
I may sound a bit crazy, but I think it’s supposed to be a clue. This library stands at 99 Oak Street.
The call number led us to another book titled Criminals ,with a note tucked in the front cover. The note led us to another book, with another clue that led us to another book—the process went on that way for ages.
It’s not like the clues were even helpful; some were just scrambled words. Others were letters written on colored paper.
At six o’clock, we laid the notes on Mile’s desk, trying to figure out what they meant. I remembered how one of those kids deciphered that fax, and looked for hidden clues. After scrambling and rewriting the letters all we came up with was a short message and two spare letters.
You’re running out of time.
Maybe we missed a few books…
[Theo]
“Anything yet?”
“Nope. Coast still clear.” Perspiration crowded onto his forehead, running into the folds of his skin. He licked his lips. We could hear the voices and footsteps of detectives above us. It wouldn’t be long before they found us.
“What time is it?”
He looked at the round clock on the wall and shook his head. He checked his watch and sighed. “Five-o-four.”
Silence ensued, making the cellar feel a lot more dark and claustrophobic than it really was. A faint noise came from the closet, like someone waking up, whimpering.
“I hate to do this…” he said, sitting down on the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his head on them. “Makes me sick.”
My own stomach felt queasy.
“Yeah…”
I could hear the clock on the wall, tick, tick, ticking as the seconds turned to minutes.
“Time?”
He shrugged. I had only asked him because I didn’t want to see the cruel reality of the minutes for myself.
Cursing, he rose and crossed to the staircase, running up the concrete steps to stretch and peek out of the small window. Nothing. He cursed again.
“It’s time, boys.”
They were too late.
The End
Brace thyself. My grandmother's keyboard is ancient, and this crit (
) is going to be filled with spelling errors and missedspaces because of keys that won't press down. FYI.
Aslong as all of this telling doesn't get excruciatingly tiresome and boring, I see nothing wrong. Every writer is entitled to break the rules every once and a while. 
That is good stuff. However, remember not to just use 'like'. There are other words that lend itself to that kind of dialogue/dialect. Such as adding 'and stuff' to the ends of lists, putting 'you know' a lot, 'whatever', and 'I mean' scattered throughout there too. Keep up the 'totally'. Like I said, good stuff. 
Characterization
