I was a criminal, involved in a smuggling ring, but the amazing thing was how quickly it became routine. My heart didn't pound anymore when I reached the maple tree. I took my time when I stretched so I could look carefully in the rocks. Most days there was nothing. But every three or four days, there'd be a package.
I was pretty sure I had the basics of the operation figured out. Boats come into Puget Sound all the time. If a boat is from Canada or China or some other foreign country, the captain has to call a customs agent and somebody from immigration. Maybe the boat gets checked thoroughly and maybe it doesn't. But getting drugs off the boat before any possible inspection would be the smart thing to do, just in case. It would be easy to slip someone to shore at night, store the drugs in the rocks, and then have that person return to the boat.
The smugglers probably used the same boat over and over—most likely some sort of charter boat that was familiar enough to Coast Guard patrols that they left it alone. The captain could do the smuggling without the owner of the boat even knowing about it. Or some crewman could be doing it without the captain knowing—though that would be less likely. In middle school, the D.A.R.E. cop told us that on the street an ounce of marijuana could sell for as much as a hundred bucks. The packages I was carrying weighed between five and ten pounds, which would translate into over ten thousand dollars. At two shipments a week, the total value would be more than a million dollars a year. If cocaine were ever in those packages, the street value would be even more. No wonder they could pay me two hundred bucks a week.
I wasn't sure how the fat guy figured in. Maybe he was a big player in the deal—the guy who got the drugs to the street. Maybe he was a small fry who'd fallen into some easy money. Sometimes I wanted to find out what happened to the packages after I stuck them in the locker, but then I'd remember what the fat man had said about knowing too much, and I let it drop.
The Monday before Thanksgiving vacation, the counselors set up Career Day in the commons area. People from the University of Washington and Seattle University and Shoreline College and a bunch of other schools stood behind tables and passed out brochures.
I didn't even bother to look at the college brochures—what point was there? When I finished eating lunch, I walked across the commons to the back door. That's where I spotted Melissa toe-to-toe with Ms. Dugan, the vice principal. The two of them were standing in front of a table manned by an armed forces recruiter with a grim smile on his face. I hadn't noticed either the table or the guy, that's how deep in the corner they were.
I stopped about ten feet from Melissa. She had on her Stanford sweatshirt and jeans. Her face was bright red, and so was Dugan's. They were talking in low voices, but anybody could see they were both angry.
While they were arguing, some kid I didn't know pushed past Melissa and approached the recruiter's table. Melissa spun around. "Don't believe a word he says," she yelled so loudly that everyone in the commons turned to stare at her. Melissa paused and then pointed at the recruiter. "He'll get you killed if you let him!"
"That's enough of that!" Dugan broke in angrily. "More than enough. If you don't leave here right now, Melissa Watts, I am going to call security and have you removed."
Melissa glowered at Dugan.
"Did you hear me? Either you leave or security comes and makes you leave."
"I have a constitutional right to say whatever I want."
"You are on school property, Melissa, and you do not have the right to disrupt educational activities."
"Oh, so signing up to get killed is an educational activity!"
I pushed my way up to Melissa. "Let's get out of here, Melissa," I said. "Fifth period is about to begin, anyway." Melissa looked at me and then at Dugan. "It's not worth it," I whispered.
She turned back to Dugan. "I'm leaving," she said. "But not because of you. I'm leaving because I want to leave."
"I don't care why you leave," Dugan said. "Just leave."
Melissa shook free of me, turned her back, and strode out of the commons. Ms. Dugan followed a few seconds later. I started to walk away when the recruiter called out, "Hey, you." I turned back. He shoved a brochure into my hand. "Do me a favor. Stick this in your pocket and look at it over sometime."
After Arnold's class ended, Melissa walked to the locker bay with me. "It makes me mad they allow those guys on campus," she said, still fixated on her lunchtime face-off with Dugan. "It's just wrong."
"Come on, Melissa. There are worse things than joining the army."
"Yeah?" she said. "Name one."
"Going to jail," I said.
She laughed mockingly. "As if that's an option."
I'd reached my locker. She watched as I spun the dial on my lock. "I appreciate what you did, Chance. That's the second time you've been there for me."
"I didn't do anything."
"Yes, you did. I don't need anything bad on my record, not if I'm going to get into Stanford. And being hauled off by security is definitely bad."
"They wouldn't have hauled you off."
"Dugan would have loved to call security. She's never liked me."
I slammed my locker shut and turned. "I've got to go, Melissa." I started toward the exit.
"Wait—can I ask you something, Chance?"
I turned back. "Ask whatever you want."
"What are you looking for in those rocks?"
It was the last thing I was expecting her to say. I could feel the blood start to pound in my temples. "What are you talking about?" I said, trying to keep my face from going red.
"The rocks below the railroad tracks. When you run, you stop and look around."
"Are you spying on me?"
"No," she said.
"How do you know what I do or don't do, then?" I said.
"Chance, I do my homework in our solarium, which looks out over the beach. I've seen you a couple of times now, poking around in the rocks. That's all. If I'd known you were going to get all paranoid, I wouldn't have mentioned it. I was just curious."
"I'm not paranoid, Melissa. I just don't like being spied on."
She stared at me for a long moment. "Forget I mentioned it," she said.