Read Online Spy in the Alley by Melanie Jackson - Free Book Online Page A

Pantelli explained, and then, at Jack’s confused look, we giggled even harder.
    We were in a giddy condition by the time Jack pulled into a parking spot near the totem poles towering over Burrard Inlet. Right away, faces belonging to kids about Jack’s age crowded the jeep’s windows.
    â€œHi Jack, who’re the tykes?” a boy demanded good-naturedly.
    â€œWho’re you ?” I retorted.
    â€œGasp,” said a girl.
    I sat up straight, glared at her and began brandishing my Game Boy indignantly. “Listen, if you have a problem — ”
    â€œTime, please,” interrupted Jack, laughing. He swung out of the jeep and opened the door for me. “GASP,” he explained kindly, “stands for Grad Advocates for Smoking Prevention. It’s that group of kids I was telling you about at dinner the other night, the ones who are taking a year off after high school to raise public awareness about the dangers of smoking … Dinah, Pantelli, I’d like you to meet Lorraine,” this was the freckled, dark-braided girl who’d spoken to us, “and Todd,” the bespectacled boy of the offensive “tykes” remarks, though actually he looked pretty nice.
    There were a lot more GASPers milling around a table piled with brochures and booklets about smoking. Placards, stacked against a side of the table, were plucked up one by one by the GASPers: NO JOKE, DON’T SMOKE, the placards read, and GASP AGAINST SMOKING.
    Lifted high, the placards bobbed in a circle in the clearing behind the totem poles. At the opposite side of the table, a guitar player strummed and sang.
    â€œOn top of old Smokey
All covered with tars
I found some rat poison
    And switched to cigars
But cigars weren’t much better
With nail polish they’re filled.
Be you poor or jet-setter
You’re bound to be killed.”
    â€œCatchy, isn’t it,” Lorraine remarked to Pantelli and me. “There are a lot more verses, because there are a lot more yucky things stuffed into smokes. Like paint thinner. And gasoline.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Jack, noticing our aghast expressions. “If you make it to sixteen without smoking, you’ll probably make it through life without getting addicted.”
    I raised my eyebrows at Pantelli. Once or twice, at recess, he and some of the other boys had sneaked away to try smoking.
    â€œI might have experimented,” Pantelli said, guessing my thoughts. “Just out of curiosity.”
    â€œAh well,” Jack said sadly. “That’s what Mom told me she’d thought, when she ‘experimented’ at age thirteen.”
    â€œNot me,” Pantelli replied. “Doesn’t mean anything.” In a sudden, angry gesture he grabbed a placard and began marching round and round with the others.
    Since Jack, already holding a placard, was about to do the same thing, I lifted one from the stack and joined them.

Chapter Nine
    Madge is not amused
    On TV, scenes of protesters trudging in a circle always looked kind of monotonous to me. This wasn’t at all dull. Our circle was more like a merry-go-round, with kids jumping up and down to wave at passing cyclists, walkers and drivers, and clapping and singing along with the GASP guitarist.
    I was enjoying myself — but I was also peering around to see if I could spot Buckteeth. He was, after all, supposed to be involved in the anti-smoking movement.
    â€œLooking for something?” inquired a red-haired girl in cut-offs and a GASP T-shirt with a bunch of stick figures kicking at a pile of cigarettes. Kicking the habit. I got it. I got something else, too. A sick, sinking feeling. Her T-shirt had the same design as the one I’d spotted Buckteeth in last night. The stick figures must be some sort of GASP logo.
    Buzz had been right: Buckteeth was in some way associated with GASP.
    â€œBuckteeth. Great ,” I muttered.
    The girl flushed. She opened