Payback Time by Carl Deuker

it with his finger. "We'll buy it," he said at last. "Ask the secretary for the forms for freelancers. Fill them out, mail them back, and you'll get your check for fifty dollars in a few weeks. You get a freelance form too, Mitch."
    "Will she get photo credit?" I asked. "Of course she will," Chet snapped. "This is a professional newspaper. Nobody here will ever cheat you."

5
    A S WE RETURNED TO THE F OCUS, Kimi's eyes were shining. "The
Seattle Times
took my photograph," she said over and over. "I can't believe it."
    "It was a great photo."
    She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you, Mitch. This wouldn't have happened without you."
    It was a kiss she might give a brother, but it was a kiss. I tried not to turn red, which only made me turn redder. The anger I'd felt about the Yakima trip—it was gone. I started up the car and roared—if a Focus can roar—out of the parking lot. "Let's go to Peet's," I said. "My treat."
    Â 
    "I found out more about Angel," I said once we were seated upstairs looking out over Fremont Avenue. I was glad she'd picked the counter and not a table. I liked being near her, but sitting face-to-face made it harder for me to talk.
    I described how I'd stumbled upon Angel's house and how I'd seen him throwing the football with his friend. "Then a car came up the block, moving fast. Angel hid while his friend stared down the car. I'm not completely sure about this, Kimi, but I think his friend pulled out a gun."
    "You're joking."
    "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm almost positive."
    "When did this happen?"
    "A few days ago."
    "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Her voice was miffed.
    I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I was waiting for a time when we could talk."
    She stirred her latte for a moment, and then leaned toward me. "Actually, it fits with something I've been thinking," she said, her anger gone. "In fact, it fits perfectly."
    A gun didn't fit with anything I'd been thinking. "Tell me."
    "A few years ago, two cops went undercover at Federal Way High School. In February, they busted a dozen students for drugs, including three brothers who were running a meth lab in a shed behind their lawyer parents' fancy house, and a doctor's son who was selling stolen prescription pills. Lincoln has its share of druggies. They're buying meth and other stuff, which means somebody is selling. If the police department sent undercover agents into Federal Way High, they could do it at Lincoln High. I think Angel is a cop."
    "A cop?"
    "A cop."
    The more I thought about it, the more possible it seemed. Kimi's theory explained why Angel looked so old, why his friend would have a gun. And Lincoln did have its share of drug users. Laurie Walloch and her friends for sure, and other kids I didn't know by name. A whole bunch of them had spooky eyes and looked wired twenty-four hours every day. But would the police bother with twenty or thirty kids?
    "I can sort of see it," I said. "Only why would an undercover drug cop try out for the football team? Druggies aren't football players."
    Kimi chewed on a fingernail for a bit. "Say I'm right and he's an undercover cop. What does he do? Show up the first day of school at Lincoln looking old and with no friends? How would he ever get in with anybody? But if he plays on the football team, when he shows up the first day, he's connected. The cops in Federal Way joined the yearbook staff. That gave them an excuse to go all through the school. Being a football player is like having a pass—football players can do what they want at school. Think about this, too. If Angel is an undercover cop, he'd want to be on the team, but he wouldn't want to be the star. That would attract too much attention. When he was throwing the football around with his friend, he didn't know we were watching, so he let his ability show. In front of McNulty, he pretends to be middling. It all fits with him being undercover, with staying under the radar."
    She pursed her lips. "Mitch,