The Big Dip Read Free

myself out.
    Trenchcoat looked up from the paper he was unfolding.
    I ran.
    I heard Trenchcoat puffing and wheezing as he lumbered after me.
    The fire exit was the closest way out. I sprinted to it. OPEN ONLY IN AN EMERGENCY was painted on the glass in big red letters.
    I’d say this qualified.
    I pushed the door open, setting off an alarm that jangled through the building.
    I ran outside. It was twenty-eight blocks to my house. I kept running and never once looked back.
    One of the reasons I didn’t ace schoolwork was that I hated being confined in a classroom. I thought better when I could move around, and thought best when I could run. I could toss off the distractions like unwanted layers of clothes. When I was running, only what mattered stayed with me.
    I rounded the corner of Nanaimo and Hastings and cut through Sunrise Park. I wasn’t even out of breath. The mountains loomed in the distance, cool and blue.
    I had to go to the police, even if they charged me with deserting the scene of a crime. Whoever shot Jake knew who I was. Like Jake, they’d recognized me from the Vancouver Sun story.
    Whoever shot Jake .
    I thought of the people who’d sat behind Skip and me. I hadn’t noticed any of them really, except for the woman with the big boxy purse. She could have had a gun in that purse. She could have shot Jake.
    On the other hand, the woman had said she was a nurse. She’d tried to help Jake.
    What was this plant Jake had mumbled about?
    I reached the end of the park. I’d cleared my brain, all right. The problem was, all that was left were questions.
    What was this plant?
    The words pounded at me in rhythm with my footsteps.
    I veered out of the park and cut across the middle of Hastings—through blaring horns and squealing tires—to a gas station. At the payphone I fished in my pocket. Trenchcoat had the fifty bucks, but I still had some change. I punched in Skip’s cell number.
    â€œYeah?” Skip sounded bored, annoyed. I pictured him in the car with his parents, his iPod buds in his ears. Skip didn’t like having his tunes interrupted.
    His voice warmed on recognizing me. “Yo, Mojo. What’s doin’?”
    â€œThe Margaret rose,” I panted. “Can you google it? I gotta tell the police about it, like the old guy wanted.”
    Skip caught the urgency in my voice. “Why, what happened?”
    I didn’t want to go into the Trenchcoat incident. Skip would be all over me with questions, and I didn’t have time. Not with Trenchcoat after me.
    â€œJust look up the Margaret rose for me,” I pleaded.
    Skip’s dad had a Blackberry, a fancy one with all the gizmos. He’d promised one to Skip, if Skip kept up his sky-high marks. This kind of cheesed Skip, who didn’t like to wait for anything.
    â€œCan’t you look it up yourself?” Skip was needling me. I bet he was still annoyed about having his tunes interrupted.
    I leaned my forehead against the phone-booth glass. At home we were still on dial-up. It took a long time for the computer to chug onto the Internet—and I didn’t have a long time.
    I replied, forcing my voice to stay even. At the slightest sign of pressure, Skip would clam up. He didn’t like being pushed. I said, “No. I mean, yeah, I could look it up. But if you google the Margaret rose for me now, you’ll know what it is by the time I get home. By the time I phone you back. Please?”
    â€œOkay, okay.” Skip sounded surprised. “Keep your shirt on, buddy.”
    I replaced the receiver just as Skip was asking his dad for the Blackberry.
    Miss Lucy called the doctor,
    Miss Lucy called the nurse,
    Miss Lucy called the lady
    With the alligator purse!
    Ellie was doing cartwheels on the front lawn. With every cartwheel, her long red- ribboned braids spun like windmill blades. Even while flipping, my sister wore her neon pink backpack. She and the backpack, filled with