Payback

Deb Loughead

Description

Dylan O'Connor is in trouble again. While riding his bike home after dark, he has a run-in with a truck but doesn't give it a second thought until police show up at his door the next day. CCTV cameras put Dylan at the scene of a crime, and when the police question him, Dylan realizes he was an inadvertent witness. But he doesn't tell them the driver of the truck was Jeff Walker, a nasty piece of work. Dylan knows it's in his best interests to keep his mouth shut. Then he starts getting stalked by Jeff's weirdo sidekick, Eliot Barnes, a classmate of Dylan's. Is Eliot trying to protect Dylan, or is he making sure he stays silent?


This is the fourth story featuring Dylan O'Connor after The Snowball Effect, Caught in the Act, and Rise of the Zombie Scarecrows.

Sujets

• Juvenilee Fiction
• Teaching English as a foreign language
• English as a foreign or second language
• Adventure
• EAL
• Electronic Sports League
• Action

Informations

• Publié par: Orca Book Publishers
• Date de parution: 26 septembre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781459814714
• Langue: English

Extrait

Copyright 2017 Deb Loughead
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Loughead, Deb, author Payback / Deb Loughead. (Orca currents)
Issued in print and electronic formats. ISBN 978-1-4598-1469-1 (pbk.).- ISBN 978-1-4598-1470-7 (pdf).- ISBN 978-1-4598-1471-4 (epub)
I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents PS 8573. O 8633 P 34 2017 j C 813'.54 C 2017-900825-0 C 2017-900826-9
First published in the United States, 2017 Library of Congress Control Number: 2017933027
Summary: In this high-interest novel for middle readers, Dylan witnesses a crime but is worried about speaking up .

Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on Forest Stewardship Council certified paper.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts,and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Edited by Tanya Trafford Cover photography by iStock.com Author photo by Steve Loughead
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.
20 19 18 17 4 3 2 1
For Cearra and Anthony Orsini, and Liam Flint
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
That s not even a real word! Nice try though, Dylan.
My girlfriend, Monica, sat across the table, shaking her head.
It is so a word. Mettal . M-E-T-T-A-L . My grandmother uses it all the time. She says that kids these days don t have any.
That s not how you spell it. You made up a hybrid of metal and mettle , said Ivy. So, you want to challenge it or what?
Face it, Cory said. You got caught, dude.
Okay, so I miss a turn. Big deal, I said. I m in last place anyway.
Ever since we d started our Retro Thursdays board-game night, my friend Cory and I had learned a whole lot more words and brushed up on our spelling too. A while back we d discovered the hard way that girls aren t as okay with chilling in front of a screen playing video games all night the way guys are. They actually like to talk. Face-to-face. So our compromise was playing board games one evening a week.
I sneaked a peek at the cell phone on my lap. (One of the rules of board-game night was no phones on the table.) It was already well past my ten PM weeknight curfew. I knew little kids who went to bed later than ten o clock on weeknights and midnight on weekends.
Crap. I gotta get moving anyway, I said, then dumped the rest of my Scrabble tiles into the little cloth bag. You know Gran. She ll probably freak out when I walk in late.
I m sticking around to finish this, Cory said. I ll head home with Ivy later. Hope your grandmother doesn t get too mad and ground you or something.
Yep, that would totally suck, I said.
Monica walked me to her front door. We ducked into the closet where nobody could see us for a few minutes to say goodbye properly.
Maybe if I talk to your grandmother, she ll realize you re not a kid anymore and at least let you stay out until ten thirty on weeknights, Monica said between kisses.
Monica was good at sweet-talking my grandmother. But Gran was a stubborn one, and I figured she d never bend this rule.
Give it your best shot, I said. But you know her. She thinks danger lurks around every corner at one minute past ten. And at one minute past midnight on weekends, of course.
Monica laughed and gave me one last hug. Text me when you get home, okay? she said.
Bridgewood was like a ghost town on weeknights, and tonight was no exception. It wasn t exactly biking weather either. Winter had hung on for way too long, and patches of crusty old snow were still waiting for spring to work its magic. As I wheeled toward the apartment where I lived with my mom and grandmother, I was wishing big-time that I d been smart enough to wear one of Gran s itchy caps. And even though I was wearing the heavy woolen hoodie she had knit me for Christmas, I was still shivering.
I rode with frozen hands. Not smart to forget my gloves. And every time I pulled my hood up, the wind would blow it right back off again. So I guess I wasn t paying attention, because suddenly, from out of nowhere, a black pickup truck was right in front of me.
I hit the brakes and veered to the right just in time, wobbling up onto the lot of the local car dealership. I blew off a couple of choice words for being so dumb and realized I was even shaking a bit. Then I looked over at the truck beside me. The engine was idling, and the passenger window was cracked open. A thin stream of smoke wafted out.
Hey, dude, a gravelly voice said. How s it going? Dazed-looking eyes peered out at me. The guy sounded a bit familiar.
All good, I said. Kind of in a hurry though.
Would you just shut up? the driver said to the passenger and let off a nasty rant as the window slid up. The engine revved, and the truck sped off. But not before I noticed that the license plate was filthy. The rest of the truck was very clean.
Weird, I thought. I got back on my bike and headed for home.
It was already well past ten when I got there. I locked my bike to the rack at the bottom of the stairwell and took the steps up to the apartment two at a time. Outside the door, I tried not to rattle my keys as I slipped the right one into the lock. The door clicked open. Maybe Gran would be asleep on the sofa, and I wouldn t get an earful. I tiptoed inside and set my backpack down as quietly as possible.
The TV wasn t even turned on. Strange. I crept from room to room. No sign of Gran anywhere. I hadn t seen her since I d left the apartment that morning. I hoped she was okay. Then I spotted the note on the kitchen table.
Hey there, Dylan. Having dinner at Buddy s place. Don t worry if I m not home when you get here. Hope you made it before ten . Your mom will be home before midnight. xoxo Gran
Are you kidding me? I yelled at the ceiling.
I texted Monica. She sent a bunch of LOLs when I complained that I could have stayed out later. I zonked out and didn t even hear my mom come in.
The next morning at breakfast, for the first time in as far back as I could remember, Gran wasn t sitting there with us, talking about the weather or the latest news stories. I still couldn t wrap my head around the fact that my grandmother actually had a boyfriend.
When I looked up from my bowl of Cheerios, Mom was staring at me.
I know exactly what you re thinking, Mom said. But your grandmother is a grown-up. She s allowed to stay out all night.
Yeah yeah, but you d freak out if I did that, I replied.
Mom just rolled her eyes. Big difference, Dylan. And anyway, what s the big deal about Gran having a boyfriend?
She s my grandmother , I reminded her. It s just weird that she s not acting like one so much anymore. She s been different since she hooked up with Buddy Dalton.
Well, I think that s a good thing, Mom said. She isn t on your case so much anymore either, is she? Or maybe you miss that?
God no, I said, then slurped the last of the milk from my bowl.
Besides, think how happy Gran will be when she hears you made it home on time last night even though she wasn t here, right? Mom smiled at me. Which made me feel a bit guilty for stretching the truth about what time I really did get home.
The apartment buzzer sounded. We both stared at it.
Maybe she s home already, Mom said, heading over to the intercom. Who is it? she asked.
It s me. Nicole.
I shivered.
Coffee s on. Come on up, Nic. Mom buzzed her best friend into the building.
My godmother, who just happened to also be a police officer, rarely did a random drop-in. What was she doing here so early on a Friday morning? I was almost afraid to find out. So I headed straight for the bathroom. I was brushing my teeth when Mom knocked on the door.
Nicole wants to talk to both of us, she said from the other side. It s about something that happened last night.
Another shiver zapped me. I flung open the door, my mouth still full of toothpaste. What s wrong? Did something happen to Gran? I asked her.
Wow, you must really miss her, Mom said. Actually, Nicole s just wondering about something that happened to you last night.
Huh ? I said. To me ?
The only thing that had happened to me the night before was that near collision with the back end of a truck. It couldn t possibly be that though. Nobody else had been around. I rinsed my mouth and followed my mom down the hallway, my heart banging hard.
Good morning, Dylan, Nicole said, hugging me and planting a kiss on my cheek. Then she opened a large manila envelope. What do you know about this?
She handed me a couple of grainy black-and-white screen grabs from some sort of camera. And there I was, on my bike, right beside the pickup truck. The time on the photo said 10:36 PM . Crap. When I looked at mom she was grinning.
Busted, she said. Don t worry. I won t blab to your gran. Ten o clock and midnight are just ballpark curfew times anyway. I never really expect you to be on time, you know.
Seriously , Mom? I growled. So are you fol