Sketchy Behavior

by Erynn Mangum

  “I squinted,” I said, sighing.

  “What?” Mom said.

  “I squinted. Like in my picture in the yearbook.” I squeezed my eyes halfway shut to show her.

  Mom waved her hand. “Please. Your yearbook picture does not look like that.”

  “Does too. Check when we get home. Why else would she have recognized me only after I was staring into the sun?”

  DJ cleared his throat. “She is kind of squinty in the picture.”

  “See? Thank you, DJ.”

  Dad looked out the passenger window. “Yet another reason I carry at churches.”

  We all looked at him. “Carry what?” I asked cautiously.

  Dad turned toward me in the backseat. “My pistol. I’ve been carrying constantly since all this started. You can never be too careful, Kate. Did you hear those people at church? Yelling ‘amen’ at the preacher?”

  “I think they were encouraging him,” Mom said.

  “Constantly being told to be quiet is not encouraging someone, Claire.”

  DJ opened his mouth to respond and then apparently thought better of it. “The parade,” he said, changing the subject. “Kate, we’re going to have continuous security on you at the parade, so there is nothing to worry about there.”

  I think he was speaking more toward my dad and his 9mm than he was to me.

  “Okay,” I said, and looked out the window. We were driving past Main right then and the town was already being littered with tons of May Day décor. Huge papier-mâché daisies, Chinese lanterns made to look like giant rosebuds, and yards and yards of pastel-colored streamers were hung everywhere along the street.

  Soon, all the people in South Woodhaven Falls who owned an antique car would line up for the parade, and the school’s marching band and cheerleading squad was going to perform. Mr. McSweeny closed his market and put on a clown costume most years. People even came and sold cotton candy and hot dogs.

  It was a real event if you liked events.

  I, however, did not like events. I spent most May Day parades catching up on homework or practicing my sketching. It was going to be a long day.

  The governor owned a 1937 Packard convertible. Which if you were into cars was apparently a big deal because I guess that car was worth a lot of money. DJ told me on the way home that the governor was going to drive, his wife was going to be in the passenger seat, and me, DJ, and two other policemen were going to be in the backseat.

  So it was going to be a crowded and claustrophobic long day. Great.

  DJ stopped at my house, and yet again there were news vans in front. I bit back the groan. Weren’t they going to get enough of the squinty-eyed heroine at the parade? Could they not wait until then?

  “Hustle in,” DJ said, pushing me in front of him and into my house while all the reporters yelled my name.

  We got inside and Lolly came over, wagging her tail and looking at me all friendly-like.

  I knelt down and gave her a hug. “Thank you for not speaking,” I told her.

  She licked my hand.

  I had already decided that I was going to wear my favorite pair of dark-rinsed jeans and a forest green short-sleeved shirt. It was a gorgeous day outside and I really didn’t think I’d need a jacket sitting in the back of a convertible.

  I carried my clothes to the bathroom and changed quickly, trying not to mess up my hair from church. I’d run a straightener through it early this morning. Hopefully, it would stay straight and not get all frizzy like it was prone to do.

  I touched up my makeup and stepped back to look in the mirror.

  Well. It would have to do.

  Mom was coming down the hall when I opened the bathroom door. “All set?” she asked, pulling a tube of lipstick from her purse.

  I nodded as she smeared the bright raspberry color all over her lips. “You want some?” she asked when she finished.

  “No, thanks.” I wasn’t a lipstick person. Lip gloss occasionally. When Maddy made me wear it. But never lipstick.

  “Are you sure? Just add a little bit of color?” Mom asked, pointing the tube at my face.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Girls, you need to get something to eat!” Dad yelled from the kitchen. “We have to leave in half an hour!”

  My dad was nothing if not on time. My mother was one of those people who believed in fashionable lateness. Dad always said that if she were meant to be fashionable, she wouldn’t have married an engineer.

  Wise words, I always thought.

  Dad was standing in the kitchen spreading mayo on two slices of bread. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. “Want a deli sandwich?” he asked when I walked in.

  “Um.” Now to decide how to answer this one. Yes, I did want a sandwich, but I didn’t want Dad to make it for me. Dad uses way too much mayo for my tastes.

  “Yeah, but I’ll make it,” I finally said. “Go ahead and finish yours.”

  Dad shrugged and stacked a healthy helping of deli-sliced turkey, tomatoes, lettuce, and pickles on his bread. By the time he finished, it was a good four inches high.

  “Now that,” Dad said, proudly. “That is a sandwich.”

  “Nicely done.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to make yours?” he asked.

  “Very sure.” Especially if the outcome was going to be bigger than my head.

  I slathered some mustard and mayo on two slices of bread, added a little bit of meat, one tomato, and two lettuce leaves. When I got to the table, Dad just shook his head.

  “Weakling,” he said.

  “The camera adds ten pounds, Dad,” I said, sitting across from him.

  “Good. Then you’ll finally look somewhat healthy.”

  I took a bite of my sandwich. All of the women on my mother’s side of the family were tiny. I think Mom was the tallest and she was only five foot three. My grandma was four foot nine. And she maybe weighed ninety-five pounds.

  Dad, though, had a coworker who discovered three years ago that his daughter was anorexic, and now Dad was completely panicked that I might be too. I kept telling him about my love of cookies and carbs in general, but I don’t think he believed me.

  If I had to change anything about my appearance, I’d change my height. To taller. Much taller. It got old having to tilt my head all the time.

  Mom and DJ came into the kitchen then. Mom made a quick lunch of crackers, lunch meat, and cheese, and DJ made a sandwich.

  “We’re going to wait here for Kent to come. He’s going to drive with us,” DJ said, swallowing a bite of his huge sandwich.

  I wondered if Miss Yeager was going to be at the parade. She was all nostalgic about the weird traditions this town had.

  “Where should Claire and I be?” Dad asked.

  DJ said, “You can stand wherever you like. We’ve got another guy coming to shadow you two, but I think everything will be fine today. The parade ends at two and the press conference starts at City Hall thirty minutes later, so if I were you, I’d try to find a spot close to there if you can.”

  Mom nodded. “Wow, Katie-Kin. City Hall. That’s pretty impressive!”

  I sighed. “What exactly do they want me to say at this press conference?” I wasn’t good in front of cameras anyway — as evidenced by my yearbook picture — so I had no idea how I was going to be in front of several and still have coherent things to say.

  “Just tell them about the drawing,” DJ said. “Don’t mention anyone’s name and don’t say anything about where you live.” He shrugged. “It’ll be fine, Kate.”

  “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to be in front of the cameras.”

  “No, but Detective Masterson will be up there with you, so at least you won’t be alone in front of the cameras.” Then he got very serious. “And Kate? The most important thing you need to remember?”

  I waited. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t squint.”

  I threw my one tomato slice at his face.

  Chapter T
en

  THE GOVERNOR WAS ALREADY THERE WHEN WE GOT TO the beginning of Main. Our governor was a nice, round man. And I couldn’t think of another way to describe him. He was just very … round.

  His face was round, his torso was round. He even did his hair in that comb-over style, so that even looked round once a nice breeze kicked up.

  But he was nice and as far as I knew a good politician, and he couldn’t remember my name to save his life.

  “Sarah!” he said warmly when we walked over to his old-fashioned convertible.

  I looked around, but my mom’s name is Claire and the two of us were the only girls there beside the governor’s wife, whose name is Patricia.

  Detective Masterson, who had picked us all up a few minutes ago, leaned closer to the governor. “Kate,” he said quietly.

  The governor shook his head. “My apologies.” Then he started over. “Kate!” Once more, the warmth just flowed. “My thankfulness and appreciation to you, my dear!”

  I nodded, smiling. I liked our governor. His wife was a tiny little thing with grayish-blonde highlights cut into a Jackie O style. She smiled at me in one of those “yeah, what he said” smiles.

  Our town does not have a very big Main Street, so in order for the parade to last two hours, we had to drive five miles an hour the whole way.

  People were milling around everywhere. Finishing the decorations, parking their antique cars in a parking lot across the street so they could get in line a little later, already snacking on foot-long corn dogs and Dippin’ Dots ice cream.

  Which looked really good, and I decided that after our spot in the parade was over I was definitely getting one of the corn dogs.

  There were a few speakers placed strategically down Main Street and all of a sudden they kicked on. Dean Martin started crooning Ain’t That a Kick in the Head, and my mom started whistling to it.

  “I love Dino!” Mom said.

  The governor nodded appreciatively. “I certainly agree. He was one of the best musical artists of the entire last century.”

  “Americana would have been much different without him.” Mom sighed.

  “How is security going to work here?” Dad asked, apparently not caring about Dino and his effect on Americana.

  Detective Masterson took over. “Governor, you and your wife will be driving. I’m going to have Kate sit on the top of the trunk —”

  I blinked. “What?” I said.

  Detective Masterson kept talking. “— with Officer Kirkpatrick and Officer DeWeise on either side of her.”

  So I was between DJ and another officer, a Mr. DeWeise, who looked like he was probably a lineman back in his college football days. He smiled nicely at me and I noticed the missing right eye tooth.

  Wrong sport. Maybe hockey?

  “Meanwhile, I’ve got another four guys coming. Two will be driving in a squad car in front of you and me and two other guys will be directly behind you in another squad car.” The detective looked at Dad. “How does that sound?”

  It looked like it pained Dad to admit that it did sound good. “And where should Claire and I be?”

  “You can just feel free to enjoy the parade. Get a Dippin’ Dots or a cotton candy or something.”

  Considering that Dad is about as excited about parades as I am, he handled the day’s activities well. “Fine,” he said quietly. “We’ll wait here until Kate is leaving.”

  “Perfectly okay,” Detective Masterson said.

  At ten minutes before the parade was scheduled to start, all of us had to take our place in the car. I perched myself precariously on the trunk of the car with my feet dangling into the backseat. The metal of the car and the leather on the seats were hot and I was glad I’d opted to not wear a skirt, since the back of my bare legs would have been touching it.

  DJ and Officer DeWeise were going to be roasting by the end of the parade, since they were in full uniform complete with their bulletproof vests.

  “Are those heavy?” I asked as DJ adjusted his.

  He thought about it and then shook his head. “They’re pretty lightweight. They make custom ones now, but South Woodhaven Falls doesn’t have a big enough budget to cover getting those for all of us. Especially since you’ve heard about our daily adrenaline rush of getting cats out of pit bull’s teeth.”

  I grinned.

  “But these ones aren’t too heavy. Just bulky more than anything.”

  Officer DeWeise squinted at me. “We might have one that will fit you at the station. We’ve got a girl officer who left for maternity leave and she was about your size.”

  “Before or after the maternity part?” I asked, wondering if I should take a more proactive approach to my workout routine.

  DJ rolled his eyes. “Before, Kate. Please don’t tell me you are like other girls and all uptight and overly concerned about your appearance.”

  “I’m sorry, have you seen my yearbook picture?” I said.

  He grinned.

  “What yearbook picture?” Officer DeWeise asked.

  “The one that’s headlining everything they ever say about me,” I groaned. “I look like this.” I squinched up my eyes at him.

  He tilted his head. “Actually, yeah, that does look kind of familiar.”

  I sighed. “Anyway, I think I have some small right to be a little bit concerned about my appearance now.”

  DJ conceded with a shrug. “Whatever. Did you at least bring sunglasses?”

  I brought them in my purse, which I’d stuck below my feet on the passenger seat. “Got them. Think I should put them on right now?” The road ahead was pretty shaded for the first mile.

  Officer DeWeise shook his head. “Just wait. Practice smiling with your eyes open for the first little bit.”

  DJ thought that was hilarious.

  Our police force employed a regular lineup of comedians. I shook my head. The governor and his wife were climbing into the front seat and Mom waved at me.

  “Smile pretty!” she said all happily. She loved the parade, so I was imagining she was just excited to get Dad out there without major arguments about how it wasn’t even a real holiday.

  “You listen to the cops,” Dad told me. “And pay attention. Keep your eyes open.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, sir, I just told her the same thing,” Officer DeWeise said.

  The governor started up the car and we lurched once, nearly throwing all three of us into the backseat.

  “Whoa!” The governor said. “Sorry about that, folks. Forgot the clutch was on. Here we go!”

  We started chugging along Main Street, and I have to admit, I was amazed at how many people showed up to this kind of stuff.

  People were milling around and everywhere I looked, I kept seeing foot-long corn dogs.

  My stomach growled.

  “You cannot be hungry,” DJ said. “We just ate.”

  “Those corn dogs look really good,” I said.

  “Don’t forget to wave, Kate!” Patricia, the governor’s wife, told me.

  I nodded and lifted my hand as we came to a section where people were actually lined up to see the parade, not just to flaunt their foot-long corn dogs.

  The squad car in front of us was keeping a nice casual pace of five miles an hour, so I got to get a real good look at those corn dogs. A few people saw me and started waving.

  “Kate Carter!” one lady yelled. “It’s Kate Carter!”

  “Thank you, Kate!” a man hollered from the other side of the street.

  Soon there were probably a couple hundred or more people gathered along the sidewalk, and a chant started.

  “Kate is great! Kate is great! Kate is great!”

  I just waved and focused on smiling with my eyes open. Though, I have to admit, I liked that chant better than the one that Sean and Kyle Prestwick yelled at me in the second grade. They were twins, and they were both evil. They would always say, “Kate, Kate, Gator Bait!” every time I passed by them.

&nbs
p; This was especially traumatizing because I believed then that there were really alligators in the Mississippi River, which is fairly close to South Woodhaven Falls. We took a field trip there every year from kindergarten to the fifth grade. And every year we looked at the same portion of the flood wall and heard how high the river had gotten in years past. And every year, the Prestwick boys would pretend that they were going to throw me in while I screamed and pleaded for my life.

  I was not sad at all when they up and moved to Kansas City.

  I blinked back to the present right as someone threw something large at the car and I ducked, squealing.

  DJ caught it and laughed. It was a bouquet of roses.

  “Thank you!” I yelled.

  “Kate is great! Kate is great!”

  I kept waving.

  “I feel ignored,” Officer DeWeise said a few minutes later, when everyone was still chanting “Kate is great!” and applauding.

  “So do I,” the governor said, smiling at me in the rearview mirror. “But goodness knows, you deserve it, Kate. Ever thought about running for office?”

  I shook my head. No, most of my future plans involved me not being the center of any kind of attention. My stomach was about to implode. Public functions are not my thing. And to make matters worse, I kept thinking about how I had to talk in front of all these people after the parade.

  We were starting to get to the part of Main that wasn’t covered by trees, and I decided it was time to pull out the sunglasses rather than risk another squinty picture showing up in the newspaper. Which would happen because everyone had digital cameras out and flashing.

  I leaned forward to get my sunglasses out of my purse, but I ended up leaning forward a bit too much and I slipped off the trunk and landed on my knees in the seat, half-crunching my purse.

  Something cracked and I just knew it was my sunglasses.

  I heard a guttural cry, but it wasn’t me. DJ started yelling and grabbing for his gun. The governor started driving recklessly around the squad car in front, which immediately put on its siren. Patricia was screaming.

  I looked up and Officer DeWeise was slumped over in the space I’d just vacated when I fell onto the seat, clutching his chest, eyes swinched tight. Blood was seeping around where his hands were on his chest.