Four Miles to Pinecone

He was an eyewitness to a crime that his best friend committed. . . .

“It all started the day school ended”

That was when my English teacher decided not to flunk me—if I wrote a long story during my summer vacation. My name’s Tom Barry. I’m sixteen, and I really do want to be a junior next year at the high school in St. Paul where I live. But with my full-time job at Mr. Kerr’s grocery store, I didn’t think I’d have enough time to do it.

But by the end of the week, the paper seemed small pota...