In Too Deep Read Online Free PDF Page A

questions you have. But you’re going to have to be flexible, Robyn. Are you okay with that?”
    I assured him I was.
    I spent the morning with Gloria, who showed me how to take down requests for classified ads. She also showed me everything I needed to know about what she called “display advertising”—any ad that wasn’t a classified ad. “You can give them the prices, the deadlines, and the sizes,” she said. “If they have any other questions, pass them on to me.” She showed me the computer system and gave me a user name and a password. By lunchtime my head was spinning. That’s when Rob Hartford called me into his office.
    â€œI have an important job for you, Robyn,” he said. “You think you’re up for it?”
    â€œI guess so,” I said. But I was having a hard enough time remembering everything that Gloria had spent the morning showing me.
    Mr. Hartford opened a desk drawer and pulled out a reporter’s notebook and a ballpoint pen. He handed them to me.
    â€œTwo blocks down, on the other side of the street, there’s an establishment called Roxy’s,” he said solemnly. “Your assignment”—assignment!—“is to take everyone’s lunch order, collect their money, and bring back lunch.” When I just stood there thinking, he nodded at the notebook in my hand. Well, Dr. Turner had said there would probably be a lot of gofer work. I scribbled down Mr. Hartford’s lunch order.
    Twenty minutes later, armed with my order pad, er, reporter’s notebook, I headed down to Roxy’s. I was on my way back holding a cardboard box filled with sandwiches, salads, and beverages, when a kid burst out of a record store right in front of me and bolted into the street.
    â€œOh no you don’t!” a red-faced man yelled. He darted out of the store and grabbed the kid by the collar of his T-shirt. The kid struggled, but the man kept an iron grip on him. “I’m holding you for the police, you brat,” he said.
    â€œHe didn’t do nothing,” someone said. Another kid grabbed the first kid by the arm. “Come on, Lucas. Let’s get out of here.”
    â€œHe’s not going anywhere until he hands over the DVDs he took,” the man said.
    â€œLet me go,” the first kid said. But he didn’t struggle very hard. The man had him firmly by the collar, and a crowd had started to gather.
    â€œYou think I’m blind?” the man said. “Or maybe you think I’m stupid. I watched you take those DVDs. The police are on their way.”
    As if on cue, a police cruiser rolled up at the curb and an officer got out. He was a big man whose eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. Despite the heat of the day, he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and gloves. He had on the same sturdy boots that my dad used to wear when he was a patrol officer.
    â€œWhat seems to be the problem?” he said.
    â€œThese kids were shoplifting, that’s what,” the storeowner said, still holding the struggling kid.
    â€œHe didn’t do nothin’,” the second kid said again.
    The crowd had swelled even more once the police arrived. I looked down at the lunch order I was carrying.
I should probably get it back to the office
, I thought—but what if this turned out to be news?
    The police officer told the kid to step over to the cruiser and empty his pockets onto the hood of the car.
    The kid glanced at his friend, who shook his head in defeat. Then he pulled a wad of tissues and a battered pack of gum from one of the side pockets of his jeans and a handful of small change from the other. The officer started patting the kid down and paused as he ran his hand down the kid’s back.
    â€œWhat’s that?” he said.
    The kid just shrugged.
    â€œTake it out and put it on the car,” the officer said.
    Someone pushed past me through the crowd.
    â€œWhat’s going