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it on my way home from school. She is not a skater. She’s more like an accessory to skaters, because she simply stands about and looks decorative.
    I’m trying to convince Shahid that she also spends her weekends being decorative. “It stands to reason that she’ll be there on a Sunday,” I say. “People have habits, also known as patterns of behavior. Ergo , if she’s at the park after school, why not today too?”
    â€œOkay, okay. We’ll go,” Shahid says. His grumpy tone tells me he’s anything but okay with going.
    â€œGood man.” I make my tone cheery. “I’ll explain the plan in detail when we get there. For now, all you need to know is that you’ll be wearing the sunglasses, and I’ll be taking notes.”
    Shahid pesters me for the details all the way to the park. I refuse to tell him more. This isn’t really because I don’t have more details. It’s just that they’re unpredictable. I know our objective is to observe Gaga Girl. Then, if our observations show evidence of her guilt, we may have to interrogate her. I think that detail may worry Shahid. It’s best if I get him to the park first, then see what happens next.
    I tell him that we’ll approach the skate bowl from the west so we can take cover in the clump of trees on that side. All goes very well. We enter the shrubbery and edge forward until we’re almost through. I call a halt while we’re still concealed by low-hanging branches.
    â€œWait here,” I hiss. “I’m going to see if I can spot her.”
    â€œYou don’t need to whisper,” Shahid says. “Nobody will hear us.”
    He has a point. It’s a sunny afternoon, and the skaters are out in full force. The wheels on their boards rumble on the concrete surface and clatter on pipes. Music pumps from a stereo.
    I shrug and then shuffle over to a tree trunk. I hold on to it while craning my head until I have a clear view. I almost lose my grip on the tree when I spot our target.
    â€œThere she is!”
    â€œNo duh,” Shahid says. “I can see her from here.”
    The fact is, Rachel Stone is rather hard to miss. She got her nickname last year when she began dressing like (one assumes) her idol. Today is no exception. I decide to let go of the tree trunk and make notes.
    Suspect: Rachel Stone, alias Gaga Girl
    Description: Girl disguised as rainbow
    Height: Taller than me/shorter than Shahid
    Hair Color: Purple
    Distinguishing Features: Blue wing-style mask with curly tendrils protruding from tips. Shiny green cape, knee length. Brilliant yellow micro dress. Orange legs (difficult to tell if legs are painted or if she is wearing stockings). Red ankle boots.
    This is what I mean about her being decorative. Most days she’s satisfied with looking like she’s ready to go on stage. Days like today, when there’s an apparent theme, must take a lot of planning. Previous costumes have made her appear as a plant, a cloud and a rock.
    â€œWhat is she doing?” Shahid asks. “Is that a sketchbook?”
    â€œHuh?” I look up from my notes, and, sure enough, Rachel is holding something. Now it’s time for my plan to go into action. “Okay! Here’s what I want you to do, Shahid. See that low wall over there? The one just beyond where Rachel is standing?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI want you to put the glasses on and walk over there. Walk casual-like, as if you’re just sort of wandering.”
    â€œWandering?” Shahid echoes.
    â€œYou know what I mean. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Once you’re there, 69 I want you to keep your back to Rachel. Maybe lean your elbows on the wall and make it appear that you’re gazing out the other way, bird-watching or something. But make sure you can see her in the mirror. Got it?”
    He stares at me.
    â€œOkay,” I sigh. “I’ll go over it again. I want you