Marked by Norah McClintock Page A

again—big-time.
    â€œThat’s why I thought of you, Colin. I’ve been hearing good things about you.”
    He had?
    â€œIf you want, I can get you the information and even put in a good word for you. You can earn some money and study the urban-art landscape at the same time.”
    I was so stunned that all I could say was, “Uh, sure.”
    â€œGreat,” he said. “I’ll call you on Monday with the details.”
    Monday morning I woke up to the sound of the phone. It was Dave Marsh. He told me where to take my résumé, who to talkto, even what to say. He said he’d already talked to the man in charge.
    â€œHe’s expecting your call, Colin,” he said. “He’s looking for reliable kids, and he’s definitely interested in meeting you.”
    Then he scared me a little.
    â€œAs far as I can tell, this job is yours, Colin—unless you do something to mess it up.”

chapter two
    The man in charge was named Ray Mehivic. He was sitting behind a big metal desk. His office was at the back of what looked like a huge garage in one of those industrial parks that’s filled with warehouses and small factories. He was talking on the phone when I arrived, but he waved me in. I stood in front of his desk while he finished his phone call.
    â€œYou’re Colin, right?” he said, hanging up the phone. “Keeping your act clean these days, I hope.”
    What
?
    He laughed.
    I didn’t.
    He grinned. “Relax, kid,” he said. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. I’m a big believer in second chances. I know how hard they are to come by. So I try to provide them. I try to help out, you know what I mean? And Dave Marsh thinks you’re an okay kid. When he heard I was hiring, he put in a good word for you.” He looked me over. “He said you were fourteen.”
    â€œI’ll be fifteen at the end of the summer,” I said.
    â€œEverybody makes mistakes,” Ray said, leaning back in his swivel chair. “But people can change, am I right?” He stuck out a beefy hand. “Show me what you’ve got.”
    It took me a moment to realize that he wanted to see my résumé. I never thought I would say this, but I was glad we had to write a résumé in careers class at school. I handed it to him. It took him forever to read it.
    â€œYou got a bike, something to get around?” he said at last.
    I nodded.
    â€œYou know what the job is?”
    I nodded again, but he explained it to me in detail anyway.
    â€œSo,” he said when he had finished, “are you interested?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œSir,” he said, smiling like I’d made a joke. “Okay, Colin. You’re on. Be here tomorrow morning, six thirty, to pick up your supplies and get your route.”
    Six thirty?
    â€œIn the morning?” I said.
    â€œYeah, in the morning,” Ray said. “The route you’re on, it’s a nice neighborhood— lots of doctors and lawyers. Plus a lot of aggressive tagging. We like to get that cleaned up before the residents roll their Beamers out of their garages, you hear what I’m saying?”
    I sure did. People who live in big houses don’t want to start their day looking at graffiti. I bet graffiti in their neighborhoods made them nervous. It probably made them think of gangs.
    â€œYou got a problem with the hours or the job, now’s the time to speak up, kid.”
    I told him I didn’t have any problems. I turned to go.
    â€œHey, kid.”
    I wheeled around.
    Something flashed in my eyes. It was a camera.
    â€œFor your ID ,” Ray said. “If the cops see you and get the wrong idea, they can call me.”
    Cops? If there was one thing I wanted more than anything else, it was to get through the summer without having anything to do with the cops.
    Six AM comes fast when you stay up past midnight playing computer games. If it