Notorious by Gordon Korman

Author:Gordon Korman
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

16

Zarabeth

My patience for school keeps getting lower and lower. Once lunch is over, I basically spend the rest of the day staring at the clock, trying to use telekinetic power to move the hands forward to three thirty. And for what? So I can sprint to the ferry terminal and be the first one on board? I still have to wait for the slowest kindergartner to get dragged the three blocks by his mother or nanny before we can all cast off for Centrelight.

It’s a pointless routine, yet I can’t stop repeating it, day after day. It’s all Keenan’s fault. When we were friends, I was always anxious to finish what I was doing so we could get together. Now we’re not friends anymore, but I’m still anxious to get finished. And do what? Rush home to Centrelight so I can be bored there? Phooey!

Today I get to the dock to find the Canada Customs patrol boat bobbing in the water next to the ferry. Dad is there, waving at me. “Hop in, ZeeBee. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Well, this day is starting to look up. No ferry ride with smoke and whining kids and high schoolers nuzzling each other behind the bulkheads. So I’m smiling when I jump aboard and we head out across the river.

I’m not smiling about thirty seconds later when he hands me an official-looking document with the Canadian government logo on the top.

I frown. “What’s this about?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he replies grimly. “This came across my desk this morning.”

I study the document. It’s a robbery report on a green CCM mountain bike that’s been missing for three weeks. Under Complainant, it says Anonymous call to tip line.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“The people in your office are terrible typists,” I complain. “That’s not how you spell larceny.”

He doesn’t appreciate my joke. “That’s Wayne’s bike, isn’t it? And the anonymous tipster—that’s you.”

“I’m looking out for my brother.” I try to brazen it through. “Just because he’s in Toronto doesn’t mean we should let his stuff get ripped off.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, ZeeBee? We both know Keenan has Wayne’s bike.”

“That makes it even worse,” I argue. “A foreigner committed a crime on Canadian soil and took the proceeds across an international frontier. A border officer should understand how serious that is!”

“Give it a rest. You loaned Keenan that bike. Why are you stirring up trouble for the poor kid? If I hadn’t seen this, he could have been arrested.”

“Don’t you mean arrested again?” I demand.

“He wasn’t arrested the first time.”

“Too bad,” I snort. “Arrest was invented for backstabbers like him.”

Dad sighs. “I can’t pick your friends, but it seems to me that you and Keenan were getting along just fine before that night at the lighthouse. He’s an okay kid. What did he do to you to make you so mad?”

I don’t answer. It’s nothing I could ever explain to Dad. I don’t know if I really understand it myself.

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