Free Penalty Shot by Matt Christopher

another look at it.”
    Kevin stared at him. “I’ve got it at home, as a matter of fact. Though why I haven’t burned it yet, I don’t know.”
    Jeff gave him a small smile. “Maybe it’s because you were hoping I’d be able to figure out who really wrote it. You knew you
     shouldn’t destroy the evidence!”
    “Maybe,” Kevin replied gruffly. “Anyway, if you really think it’ll do any good, I guess you can come over to my house after
     dinner and see it.”
    Jeff gave a silent cheer. Then he turned his attention back to practice.
    Coach had set them up for a passing drill. He wanted them to concentrate on giving and receiving strong, accurate passes.
     As always, he stressed the importance of letting the stick give at the moment of contact. A bad “catch” could send the puck
     off in any direction.
    Jeff turned in a fine performance in both forehand and backhand passing. When the drill switched to shots on goal, he made
     sure his were lightning quick. The last set of drills involved dodging a defenseman while carrying the puck, then skimming
     a pass off to a teammate. Jeff had little trouble with that exercise, either.
    But throughout the various plays, Jeff’s mind strayed to other things. Like what he thought he’d find when he looked at Kevin’s
     note again — and how he hoped it would prove beyond a doubt that he was innocent.

20
    J eff rushed through dinner that night. He excused himself as soon as he could and mumbled that he had to see Kevin about something.
    “That’s fine,” his mother said. “I’ve been wondering if there was something going on between you two. I haven’t seen Kevin
     around for a while.”
    “Everything is fine. Or at least, it will be,” Jeff answered. Then he jammed his hat on his head, zipped up his coat, and
     grabbed his book bag.
    Inside were his notebook, the mysterious first draft of the composition, and the one he had just written that afternoon for
     Ms. Collins.
    When he rang Kevin’s doorbell, the door opened immediately. Kevin stood there with Ranger at his side.
    Jeff took a deep breath. Then he did something he had never thought he would do. He held his hand out toward Ranger’s nose.
    Ranger sniffed it. Jeff slowly moved his hand from in front of Ranger’s nose to the top of Ranger’s head — and patted him!
    Ranger’s tail thumped and Kevin’s eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be,” he said. He stepped aside to let Jeff in. “Come on up.”
    Kevin led the way to his bedroom. The note was lying on his desk. Jeff picked it up eagerly.
    At a glance, he saw his instincts had been right. And he knew that there was no way Sam Metcalf was involved. Without a word,
     he set it back down on the desk and unzipped his book bag. He withdrew his notebook, opened the three rings, and took out
     a blank sheet of paper. Then he dug out the two compositions. Finally, he laid the note alongside them.
    With a gesture of his hand, he asked Kevin to compare the four pieces of paper.
    Kevin took a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t get it. If I’m supposed to be comparing the handwriting, I still can’t see a
     difference. But what’s the blank page for?”
    Jeff just said, “The clues are all there. Keep looking and I think you’ll see for yourself.”
    So Kevin looked again. And this time he saw what Jeff meant.
    “This, this, and this,” he said, pointing to the two compositions and the note, “are alltwo-hole-punched pieces of paper. But this one,” he finished, picking up the blank sheet, “is a three-hole.”
    “Right,” said Jeff. “Now, you know that that blank sheet came from my notebook, because you saw me take it from there. But
     that other paper is different.” Jeff picked up the note. “The ink used in the lines is a funny shade of blue. It’s almost
     purple. The paper feels smoother, too. I’ve only seen paper like that once before.”
    “Where?”
    “In Beth Ledbetter’s notebook. Her dad gave her a special binder filled with it