Free All-Night Party by R.L. Stine Page B

always dotted the ‘i’ in her name with a heart. Don’t you remember?” Patrick reminded her. “Look at her signature. It doesn’t have a heart!”
    Gretchen flipped the note over and studied the handwriting. Instantly, she saw what she had missed earlier. No heart.
    â€œHe’s right,” she said. “The ‘i’ isn’t dotted with a heart. And Cindy always did that.”
    â€œLet me see it,” Hannah declared, walking into the room. “I was Cindy’s best friend. I would know her handwriting better than any of you.”
    Hannah snatched the note out of Gretchen’s hand. Her eyes traveled over it, and then she returned it.
    â€œThat’s Cindy’s handwriting,” she said firmly. “Even if the heart is missing. It doesn’t matter.”
    â€œBut Cindy always used a heart,” Patrick repeated. “She never forgot it.”
    Gil sighed. “He’s right.”
    â€œCindy and I didn’t have any secret,” Patrick insisted. “Whoever wrote this note was trying to frame me. But they messed up by forgetting to use a heart.”
    Gretchen passed the note to the others. Now no one was sure if it was Cindy’s handwriting or not.
    â€œWhy don’t we look in Cindy’s bag?” Gil suggested. “Maybe she has something with her handwriting on it.”
    â€œGood idea,” Gretchen agreed. “That way we’ll know for sure if she wrote the note.”
    They hurried into the front room.
    â€œThere it is!” Gretchen cried, spotting it under the couch where it had fallen.
    Sitting on the couch, Gretchen pulled the black bag onto her lap and began emptying it out.
    There wasn’t much inside. Lip gloss. Eye shadow. A pack of chewing gum. House keys. A compact. Hairbrush. Sunglasses.
    â€œIs that all?” Marco asked.
    Gretchen scraped the bottom of the bag and brushed across a few scraps of paper. She grabbed them and pulled them out.
    â€œThese might have something written on them,” she announced excitedly.
    She unfolded the pages slowly as the others gathered around her. She looked down at the pages, her pulse racing as she tried to figure out what was written on them.
    â€œThey’re notes,” she murmured, scanning a list of names, dates, and places. “Notes from history class.”
    â€œLet’s compare it to the note we found,” Jackson urged.
    Gretchen pulled out the note to Patrick. She placed it on top of the coffee table next to Cindy’s history notes.
    The handwriting looked identical.
    Gretchen’s eyes traveled back and forth between the two sheets of paper, searching for differences.
    She could see that Cindy’s history notes were written in a rushed, hurried style. But they were easy to read.
    The note from Patrick’s backpack looked neater. Gretchen had the feeling it had been written more carefully. The letters were crisper. More detailed.
    But it was still Cindy’s handwriting.
    Except for one small difference.
    â€œTake a look at the ‘y’s,” Gretchen pointed out.
    â€œWhat about them?” Hannah asked.
    â€œThe ‘y’s in the note from Patrick’s backpack are different from the ‘y’s in Cindy’s notes,” Gretchen told them.
    She felt her heart pound as she spoke. “Cindy’s ‘y’s are loopy, but the ‘y’s in the note from Patrick’s backpack have squiggles.”
    Gretchen set down the notes. Her hand trembled. “You know what this means,” she said.
    Marco whistled softly. “Patrick is telling the truth. Someone is trying to frame him.”
    â€œBut who?” Gretchen whispered. “Who?”

Chapter
28

    S he stared at her friends. All wore stunned expressions on their faces.
    She thought she knew them—but did she? Could one of them have murdered Cindy?
    If they were wrong about Patrick, then the killer was still loose.
    A