Love and Vandalism

by Laurie Boyle Crompton

  We stay like that for a long time. Everything is quiet.

  Maybe the two of us are huggy people after all. Finally, Dad asks, “You ready to head home?”

  “I hate that place,” I confess. “It’s like Mom is everywhere.”

  Dad kisses the top of my head. “And here I thought you were the one who didn’t want to leave. I was planning on selling that house the day after you go to college.” He looks at me. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “You just want me to help you move all your crap,” I say.

  He tousles the top of my dreads. “See that? I told you the two of us were alike. We even think the same.”

  I reach over and tousle his hair right back.

  He laughs. “Come on, let’s call it a night before the cops show up.”

  “Wait, so you’re going to just pretend you still don’t know who’s painting all the graffiti?”

  Dad looks up at the lion and shrugs. “I never thought that ad was in the best interest of our town anyway. Your public form of peaceful protest is duly noted. Now let’s get the hell off this tower.”

  He heads for the stairs, and I pause, looking into my lion’s eyes. It has resumed its position, sitting up and roaring intensely over the valley.

  I search in my chest for that familiar cocktail of rage and pain and grief, and find that the texture of it has changed. It still feels tender and enormous and beyond my control, but the edges are more defined. The size and weight and density of it all, somehow…bearable.

  I don’t know if this means I’m done painting lions or if it means I’m done painting altogether, but either way, I want to have a life. I don’t need to be tortured or isolated or any of the things Mom taught me a true artist needs to be.

  Dad has already disappeared down the ladder, and I move to follow slowly after him.

  I’m ready to get back to work on my true masterpiece. The one titled My Life. And I’m thinking it’s an even more expansive piece than what I’d first envisioned.

  In fact, this project is going to be boundless.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I take my time climbing down, stopping to consider our lion from time to time. It looks different from the one I planned in my head, and yet it’s as if he sprang fully formed from my wild subconscious.

  As I near the ground, I can hear Dad talking below me. I’m still too far up to make out what he’s saying and hope he’s not talking to some other police officer who’s onto us. I really don’t want my dad getting into trouble.

  Most of the cops he works with are cool, but I can think of a few guys on the force who are gunning for his position. They’d love to catch him trying to protect his daughter from getting arrested.

  If it comes to it, I need to be prepared to take the fall.

  Climbing the rest of the way down as quickly as I can, my heart drops faster than my descent when I hear the voice of someone talking to Dad.

  I know that voice. It’s Hayes.

  I can only make out bits and pieces of their conversation, but Dad is saying something about “…over at the precinct…” and Hayes responds with “…call my probation officer…”

  He must’ve stayed behind while Kat drove away with Scott and Ken.

  And now my dad is threatening to arrest him.

  I launch myself the rest of the way down the ladder and jump in between the two of them.

  I hiss at Hayes, “What are you still doing here? What part of clear the hell out didn’t you understand?” I spin around to face my dad, blocking Hayes with my body. “Dad, you can’t arrest him. This whole thing was my idea, and he’s been trying so hard to make good choices.”

  From over my shoulder, Hayes says to my dad. “As I was saying, sir…I’d love the chance to come in and speak at your D.A.R.E. workshop.”

  My dad gives me a look before turning back to Hayes. “Thanks. Your decision to turn your life around at a young age will have a real impact on those kids.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Whoops.” Guess I read that situation wrong.

  Dad reaches past me to shake Hayes’s hand. “Frank’s been working probation for twenty years now. He has good instincts, and you have him to thank for this second chance. Please don’t allow my daughter to talk you into any more illegal activity.”

  I narrow my eyes at my dad. “When did you talk to Hayes’s probation officer?”

  Dad leans over and kisses the top of my head again, which is apparently his new thing. He says, “I called him last week. You don’t think I’d just sit around doing nothing while you went off gallivanting with some stranger who’s on probation?”

  “How did you even…?”

  Hayes says, “I went to visit your dad at the precinct after we met that day in the restaurant.” I’m staring at him, and he clarifies, “The day you were flinging plates against the walls?”

  “You went to my dad behind my back?”

  “I wanted to see what I could do to help. Finding him was easy once you told me your last name.”

  I think of Hayes casually asking for my last name while we were painting together. “That was a betrayal on so many levels.” I turn on my dad. “And then you turned around and had him investigated?”

  Dad looks at the ground. “All I did was talk to his probation officer. I had to protect you in case this guy was trouble.”

  I glare at Hayes. “Oh, he is trouble. And not the good kind either.”

  “Boy, did you ever step in shit,” Dad tells him with a grin. He turns and heads toward his squad car. “Time for me to go feed Kelly. See you back at home, Rory?”

  “Yeah, don’t start packing without me.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t. And, Hayes?” he says. “Keep up those meetings. That’s a good bunch of folks you’re with.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Hayes gives an enthusiastic wave to my dad before looking at my expression and dropping his big grin.

  I say, “You do know that my dad liking you makes you infinitely less attractive to me now.”

  “Ah, yes.” Hayes laughs. “Parental approval. The kiss of death.”

  “What possessed you to go to him behind my back?”

  “Sorry for meddling, Rory. I just really wanted to try to help you two.” He slides a dreadlock off my face. “What are you guys packing for anyway?”

  “We’re moving out of that house,” I say. “Just…starting over.”

  I turn and watch my dad give a casual, open-palmed wave from the driver’s seat of his squad car as he pulls out. I’m hit with a pang of deep-down love for him and sadness for all that he’s been through.

  When I look back at Hayes, he’s watching me. He says, “Speaking of starting over, Scott told me what really happened when the two of you were alone together.”

  I rub my arms as the night breeze joins our conversation. “I’ve made a few missteps, and I know I hurt you,” I say, “but when you wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain, that really hurt me too.”

  “I see that, and I’m sorry.” Hayes looks toward the leg of the tower a moment. “Listen, I’ve been dealing with my issues, but I still have a long way to go.”

  “That’s true.” I smile. “But I’m pretty sure I’m a little more messed up than you are.”

  “It’s not supposed to be a competition.” He shoves my arm playfully. “But yeah, maybe you win by just a little.”

  I shove him back and he catches my hand.

  We look at each other for a beat, and I want to be vulnerable with Hayes. I want to go deeper than the flirty surface banter we enjoy.

  I say, “I’d like us to try having one of those relationship thingies you’ve talked about. If you don’t feel that, you should tell me now.”

  He dips his head down and steps closer. It’s like I’m right at that moment when the elevator stops.

  He
whispers, “Yeah. I feel that.”

  The smirk on his face gets the elevator rising again.

  He says, “Your friend Scott also told me that the reason you put on the brakes with him was because you realized you’re in love with me.”

  “Yeah, well, my friend Scott needs to learn how to shut the hell up.”

  “I overreacted when I saw the two of you together because of how strong my feelings are for you, Rory.”

  “I can’t blame you for thinking the worst.” I hunch my shoulders and look up at him. “But I’m really glad you’re giving us a second chance.”

  “Oh, wait,” he says. “There’s one other thing.”

  I straighten my posture, but before I can ask him what, he grabs my chin and pulls me in for a kiss. I laugh against his lips, but he continues kissing me until that elevator starts again and I’m carried up, up, up along with him.

  When we break apart, I follow his gaze upward to our amazing roaring lion and smile.

  I ask, “Does it look like the lion you pictured?”

  He squints up at it. “Not especially. But it looks like a Rory lion, which is even better.”

  “Thanks for coming tonight. I’m sorry I almost got you arrested.”

  “Well, after talking to your dad, I was pretty convinced he wasn’t looking to bust you, even if he did, you know, bust you.”

  “Yeah, he’s not so bad, I guess.”

  Hayes laughs. “The two of you are a lot alike.”

  I shake my head and two dreadlocks fall in front of my eye. I peek through them at him. “I’m like my mom a bit too.”

  Hayes pulls me into an embrace. “That may be true, but you are very much your own person, Rory.” He looks up to our roaring lion. “With an amazing imagination. Does it look the way you pictured it would?”

  I smile up at it, remembering the first moment I envisioned a spray-painted lion roaring with rage. I can still feel the rage that started it all, but it’s no longer inside me. It’s all right up there.

  When I look back at Hayes, he’s watching my face, and I answer, “No, it’s all very different. But it’s better this way.”

  I feel elated and scared and empty and full all at the same time.

  My romantic visions of ART have been ripped to shreds, and in their place is an image that’s more real and strong and alive and kind of messed-up but true. Art isn’t magic.

  But making art can be.

  Hayes’s lips graze my cheekbone on their way to my mouth. As we kiss, I start to get that levitating feeling, my insides dipping and floating.

  I’m pulled from my happy place by the sound of a ball bearing knocking about inside a can.

  I draw back and realize the sound is coming from behind Hayes’s back, where he’s shaking a spray can. With a grin, he moves over to the closest leg of the tower.

  Before I can say a word, he’s painted a very stylized pink heart with HM + RC written inside.

  “Classic corny new-couple logo.” I laugh. “Nice work. I love it.”

  Tossing the can over his shoulder, Hayes moves back in front of me and wraps both arms around me.

  I say, “You do know you just littered, right?”

  Hayes scrunches his whole face. “I know. I was just thinking that. I was trying to be all cool.” He turns and begins rooting through the weeds. “No more lawbreaking.” He holds the can up in triumph.

  I laugh. “Starting…now.”

  He moves closer, putting both arms around my shoulders and drawing me close. And as the two of us kiss again, I swear I can hear our lion

  breathe a sigh overhead.

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank-you to Ammi-Joan Paquette and the whole EMLA squad, including my agency-mates who are all so talented and generous and funny. To Katherine Prosswimmer, thank you for helping me make this book so much better, and to the rest of the Sourcebooks Fire team, especially Annette Pollert-Morgan, Todd Stocke, Aubrey Poole, Gretchen Stelter, Elizabeth Boyer, and special thanks to Brittany Vibbert for the amazing cover design.

  To my writer people, especially Jessica Verdi for her superpowers of encouragement, Amanda Coppedge Bosky for her perfect insight and talent, Jen Nadol for her illuminating critique and my Lucky 13 girls and Binders for always being there. This journey would not be nearly as much fun without you all! To Dad, Mom, Ger, Jen, Zach, and extended loved ones: I am so lucky to carry each of you in my heart.

  And most of all, thank you to my family who endured my working from the back of the van during our epic coast-to-coast road trip. Brett, Trinity, and Aidan, you are all my favorite—Go Team Crompton!

  About the Author

  Laurie Boyle Crompton is the author of several YA books including Blaze, The Real Prom Queens of Westfield High, and Adrenaline Crush. She graduated first in her class from St. John’s University with a BA in English and Journalism. Laurie has written for national magazines like Allure, survived a stint as a teacher at an all-boy high school, and appeared several times on Good Day New York as a toy expert. And yes, “toy expert” is an actual profession. When she was seventeen, Laurie and her best friend once spray-painted their names on an underpass in Butler, Pennsylvania in the middle of the night. Laurie later painted her first car hot pink using forty cans of spray paint. She now lives near New York City with her family and one very fuzzy “dog toy expert” named Baxter Bear. The last thing she spray-painted was a bunch of old lawn furniture. Visit lboylecrompton.com.

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