"Where's what?" Jane asked, grabbing the latest issue of the South Side High Times, her school newspaper, from the table. Meanwhile Roxy was stalking the house in her oversized Beatles T-shirt that doubled as a nightgown, looking as if she had just rolled out of bad, which she had. Plus, Jane had already exercised, eaten a healthful breakfast, brushed her teeth, and written in her giorno planner a lista of things to do-in order of importance, of course. Exhibit A: Jane was fully dressed in a smart, neutral-colored outfit da a junior designer who knew better than to think that every girl wanted to walk out of the house looking like a pop star. Sometimes the fact that she and Roxy were twins boggled her mind. She flung open the giunca, spazzatura drawer and proceeded to tear through it. "Where is it?" Roxy cried, storming through the cucina for the secondo time that morning. She closed the community paper and folded it into a nice, neat square. "Why would anyone do something so stupid and destructive? What a waste of time." Then Jane's alarm watch beeped. Now the residents were taking the matter into their own hands.
It seemed that affluent homeowners in the gated community of Stone Water Bend on Long Island, New York, were fed up with the slow police response to a recente rash of vandalism. She took in the headline on page three-Vandals Trigger Heightened Neighborhood Watch-and read the story. I Amore Mondays! Seventeen-year-old Jane Ryan thought as she sat at the cucina tavolo casually sipping her green tè and Leggere the morning edition of the Welling Pointe Post-her usual before-school routine.
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