ON THE MONDAY AFTER THE FRANKLIN GAME, Jessica Lathrop stopped me in the hall. Jessica's the best tennis player in the school, and she's the world's most out-front person—no beating around the bush with her, ever. "So you want to go to Columbia?" she said. "I didn't know that."
I looked at her, amazed. I'd told Kimi about Columbia, and I'd told my parents, but no one else. "How do you know about Columbia?"
"I'm a TA in the office. I file stuff for Mrs. Cressy. You had a meeting with your counselor last week. He wrote down your college choices and I filed his notes away. I can't help having eyes. You're not mad, are you?"
"No, I'm just surprised that something that small goes into my file."
"Your whole history goes in there, from preschool on. Some files are an inch thick. But why Columbia, Mitch? I'd be scared to live in New York. Crime and all that."
"Parts of Seattle are pretty tough, too," I said, thinking about the mini-mart. We talked about subways and gangs until the bell rang. I went to English, and as the other kids discussed a short story by Poe, a plan took shape in my mind.
I wasn't cut out for anything dangerous. I'd learned that lesson twice. But you don't have to walk down dark alleys at night or follow troops into battle to be a top-notch reporter. There are war experts who have never heard a single gunshot, who have never even left Washington, D.C. They study history, they pour over statistics, and they end up understanding more than people who are in the war zone. I could be like them. I could investigate Angel Marichal—from a safe distance.
The first thing would be to get a look at his school file. If I could somehow make a copy, I'd get some new facts about him. And those new facts might lead to more new facts. If I found a trail and followed it, I might learn the truth.
In the hall after class, I cornered Jessica Lathrop again, pumping her with questions about the office. Mrs. Cressy was sharp; there'd be no getting files while she was around, but she couldn't be there all the time. "Friday afternoon Cressy leaves early," Jessica told me. Once I'd heard that, my plan came into sharper focus.
That night I called Kimi. We talked about nothing for a few minutes. "I've figured out how we can investigate Angel but not run any risks," I said after a pause.
"How?" she asked, her voice interested yet doubtful.
"If we can get his school records from the office," I said, my words tumbling out fast, "we can find out where he went to school last year, what sports he played, that sort of stuff. Then we can call his old school and talk to people who knew him. If his story matches his records, we stop. If it doesn't, we dig deeper."
"But how can we get his school records?" Kimi said.
"I'm working on a plan. I just want to know if you'd be interested in doing it this way, where we'd do it all on the phone or on the computer."
There was a pause. "It sounds okay, Mitch. Only..."
"Only what?"
"If we were caught stealing files, we'd be suspended for sure. My dad would die of shame, and something like that would kill my chances for a top school."
"There'll be no risk for you," I said, thinking fast. "I'm not going to steal his file; I'm just going to make a copy. And I swear to you, Kimi, if I get caught, I'll never tell anyone you were involved."
A long pause followed, and then she spoke. "Before we resort to stealing things, there's something we have to try first."