Gone: A Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys Mystery

1. Frank

If you told me A.T.A.C. would send us to a ball on a mission, I would've laughed in your face. It probably would have taken a good five minutes for me to calm myself down. But here we are, at a ball, in the good ole state of Indiana. Yeah, like a dancing, waltzing, twirling kinda ball. The best part? A.T.A.C. told us nada about what on earth we were doing here. Isn't that just great?

So Joe and I are sent to this ball, dressed to the nine in tuxedos, and we have no idea what we are doing here. Our contact for this case hit us up with these snazzy outfits, cleaned us up, and gave our hair some gel. I swear Joe got a facelift and I will never wear a bow tie again in my life.

"What are we supposed to do?" Joe whispers into my ear.

We had walked up the front steps of the golden mansion without anyone batting an eye at our forged invitations. John Pulliam never knew that he had two teenage sons that were taking his place at the 132nd annual Eleanore Iannaccone ball while he sat at home with his ailing wife. In fact, Pulliam never had sons, to begin with, but apparently, no one at this party knew him well enough to know that.

"I think you're supposed to dance at a ball," I whisper back as I lift a glass off of a waiter's passing tray.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Joe rolls his eyes.

I tip back the glass and pretend to drink the champagne inside. The plant behind me gets a fancy watering and I continue to walk, dropping the empty glass on another tray and waving away the offer for more.

"I was really hoping all of those dance lessons A.T.A.C. made us take wouldn't go to waste. I would hate to never use my amazing Salsa moves."

I glance at the floor of rich, white people swaying back and forth and sigh. "Let's split up and try to act normal. Get someone to dance with, okay?"

He nods and turns to go right. I turn left and mingle at the edge of the dance floor. Looking for suspicious activity got me nowhere so I figured I would dance with someone and that would take me around the entire room and give me a better perspective. I watch a pudgy man bow to a girl and then lead her out to the dance floor. I decided to try it, but before I even have the opportunity to find an available girl a cute blonde haired girl in a pink dress pulls on my arm and I am suddenly on the dance floor.

At first, the dance seemed difficult, but thanks to my dance training, I eventually got the hang of it. You did a series of steps stepping forward then backward and spun and then you handed your partner off to the next person in the circle. I spotted Joe across the circle from me with a drop-dead gorgeous girl but then he had to pass her off and was stuck with an older and much larger woman. The look of disappointment on his face was so much that I chortled a little, causing my partner to glare at me.

By the time, the dance was over I still saw nothing A.T.A.C. worthy to be here for. Nothing seemed to be going wrong except for my partner's coordination. A.T.A.C. had been so cryptic and had just told Joe and me to keep an eye out for anything and be ready. When I was spun to my final partner and everyone spread out on the dance floor, I finally let myself relax. My partner was a pretty auburn haired girl in a turquoise dress. Her hair was up and tucked away and her bangs were swept up and pinned to the side. She had beautiful Caribbean blue eyes, not that they landed on me often which I am glad for. I sort of don't talk very well around girls. I get jittery and nervous. There is only two I can think of that I don't get choked up with. But this girl surveyed the whole room with eyes flicking off and on everything. She was looking for something or someone and I think she was scared of what she would find. When she had searched the room three times, I decided I should ask her what was going on.

"Um, ah, I, are, you looking for something?" I stutter.

We are spinning fast enough that I can't see the outside of the ballroom. My dress shoes just barely miss scuffing her well-trained but distracted feet.