Free Runner by Carl Deuker Page A

impossible that terrorists could come through Shilshole."
    "And if they do, reporters from the
Lincoln Light
will be there to catch them!" Thomas said. He turned to Melissa. "I bet Stanford will admit you if you win a Pulitzer."
    "Very funny, Thomas," Melissa said, and then she turned to me. "It isn't a bad idea, Chance. It really isn't. You don't have to find real terrorists or anything like that. All you have to do is write about how easy it would be for terrorists to get into the marina. It's worth thinking about."
    "OK, he can think about it," Thomas said, interrupting. "And while he's thinking about it, I'll write the end-of-season wrap-up for soccer, volleyball, and football. But you've got to get the newspaper out before Christmas break, Melissa, or it will all be dumb. You know that, don't you?"
    "I know it," Melissa said. "And it will come out before Christmas. I guarantee it."
    Natasha looked at her watch. "Oh my God," she said. "I was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago."
    I saw my chance. "I've got to go, too."
    "Get down there and check the docks, Chance," Thomas said. "Some terrorist might be sailing in tonight with a nuclear bomb. You wouldn't want to miss that."
    "You're not funny, Thomas," Melissa said. She stood and turned to me. "I'll go out with you."
    Outside, the night air was cold. She walked across the street with me to the top of the stairway. "Don't pay any
attention to Thomas," she said. "That's just how he is. You will write something, won't you?"
    I shrugged. "About what?"
    "You could write about the salmon runs. It is important, even if it's not new. I won't be able to get a newspaper out by Christmas if I don't get some stories soon."

CHAPTER NINE
    It was too early to go to sleep, and I didn't feel like reading or watching television or listening to the radio. I ended up cleaning useless stuff out of my school backpack and from my storage nooks. That's how I came across the army brochure the recruiter had given me on Career Day.
    I threw it right into the trash with a bunch of other papers, but then I reached in and pulled it back out. Melissa, Thomas, Annie, Natasha—all of them were moving on with their lives. They were heading to college; the world was getting larger for them. Where was I going? What was I going to do?
    I flipped through the glossy pages. It was pure marketing. I knew from my dad that the army was nothing like the brochure pretended. Nothing like it at all. And I was no big patriot either. Still, it wasn't the
Tiny Dancer.
It wasn't smuggling and it wasn't Ray's restaurant and it wasn't a hundred other crummy jobs I could see myself doing. At the end,
there'd be money for college, though I didn't know what I'd study at college if I ever got there.
    The next morning I went to the pay phone by the marina building and made the call. The man at the other end was businesslike. The first thing he did was ask my name.
    "My name," I said, stumbling for words.
    "Yes, your name."
    "My name is Todd Jones."
    "And how old are you, Todd?"
    "I'll be eighteen in August," I said.
    "Are you enrolled in high school?"
    "This is my last year."
    "Will you graduate?"
    "I guess," I said. "I'm passing everything. I'm not any great student, though."
    "That's all right. We'd like you to graduate before you enlist, though it's not required. How about if we schedule an appointment? I can show you your various options, get a feel for the programs that might interest you."
    My mouth went dry. "What I really want to know is how long would it take? I mean, from the time I signed the papers until I got in."
    "Not long. Ten days if you're in a big hurry and you're not fussy about your program. Longer if there's a particular program you want or if you want to do a few things before you enlist."
    "As fast as ten days?" I said.
    "As fast as ten days." He paused. "It's a great opportunity. You'll get a chance to grow up, a chance to learn something
about yourself and the world. And when your enlistment