Miranda Sanjume.
His dad’s secret romance.
“JUST look!” Gavin said, searching YouTube for a video called “Wolfheart.” “He’s stolen my life!”
“‘Wolfheart,’” Theo said. “That’s the name of one of your songs on the CD.”
“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock Homie,” Gavin barked. “Especially since you’re the one who stole it.”
“Look, dude, for the last time: I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“You’re the only one who—”
Marcus clamped a strong hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Gavin, I think you know Theo well enough to know he’s not a liar or a thief.”
Theo tried not to melt into a puddle as he thought about how he had broken into his dad’s private computer. The one they were now staring at. Wasn’t that both lying and stealing?
“You’re a cop, Uncle Marcus,” Gavin said. “Just look at the evidence.”
“Marcus,” Miranda Sanjume said, pointing at the door, “I’ll just let myself out. This doesn’t seem like a good time.… Best of luck in solving the mystery.”
Marcus nodded regretfully. “Sorry about the drama, Miranda. Life with teenagers, you know.”
She smiled. “Call me later.”
“Definitely,” he said, with a grin that annoyed Theo. His dad was too old for goofy smiles around girls. “Have some dignity, Dad,” he wanted to say.
“Nice meeting you boys,” she said, waving as she left.
Gavin grumbled something that might have been “You, too,” or “YouTube.”
Theo said in his most polite voice, “Nice meeting you, Ms. Sanjume.” He needed as many brownie points as he could get with his dad right now. After all, he was being accused of stealing.
Once the front door closed behind Miranda, Marcus turned his attention to the boys.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s watch the video and make sure it’s the same song.”
“I’ve watched it a hundred times,” Gavin said.
Marcus gestured and Gavin clicked on play. The video was very simple—just four musicians playing the song in a poorly lit room. They looked like a typical rock band: shaggy long hair, jeans, a couple of flannel shirts, a couple of T-shirts, one leather jacket, and a jeans jacket. A lead guitar, rhythm guitar, bass, and drummer. Like the Beatles, Theo noted. The whole thing looked like it had been filmed on a phone by someone with a shaky hand. There was no editing, no effects. Just the song. The lead singer had a deep, soulful voice, and when the other singer harmonized with him, goose bumps sprang up on Theo’s neck.
When it was over, Marcus whistled appreciatively. “Man, they are good. I mean, really good.” He looked at Theo for agreement. Theo gave Shrug Number 12: As a courtesy I won’t disagree, but it ain’t all that.
Marcus turned to Gavin. “You have to admit, they really do your song justice.”
Gavin glared. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still my song!”
“Okay,” Marcus said, all business. “Let’s review the facts, just as with any crime scene. What do we know?”
Gavin scoffed. “We know a video was made by some band called Wild World singing ‘Wolfheart.’ We know I wrote ‘Wolfheart.’ We know that I didn’t give the song to this band. We know they have no legal right to record it.”
Marcus leaned over Gavin’s shoulder and pointed at the screen. “We also know that since posting the video yesterday, they’ve had 56,432 views, with 20,398 Likes.”
“Wow,” Theo said with a whistle. “That’s a lot of views for one day.”
“I don’t care how many views it gets!” Gavin said, pounding the desk so the mouse jumped. “You stole my song and sold it to them, punk!”
“I didn’t steal your stupid song, moron!” Theo snapped back.
Marcus quickly jumped in. “Enough! Let’s stick to the facts. Who is this band, uh…”—he looked at the computer screen—“Wild Wind?”
“Wild World,” Gavin corrected. “I did some research. They’re from down here, Orange County. They’re pretty popular locally, and just starting to get some national attention. They have a deal with Big Dog Music to cut an album, and they’ll be opening for Green Day this summer on tour.”
“Green Day?” Theo said. “That’s huge.”
“I don’t care how huge they are. They’re still thieves, just like you, cuz.”
Theo had had enough. He marched out of the room, grabbed his backpack from the living room, where he’d dropped it during their wrestling match, and brought it back to his dad’s study. “Your stupid CD is right in here, where you stuck it. Which, by the way, I didn’t ask for.” He started digging through the bag.
“That being said,” Marcus said, “your songs were pretty darn awesome, Gavin. I didn’t know you had it in you, son.”
Gavin started to say something, probably nasty. But then his expression softened and he just shrugged. “Thanks, Uncle Marcus.”
“It’s not here,” Theo said in a panicky voice. “It’s not here.”
“What do you mean?” Gavin said.
“What do you think I mean, genius? ‘It’s not here’ means: It’s. Not. Here. Your CD is not in my backpack.” He upended it and dumped everything onto the floor. Textbooks, notebooks, pens, pencils, half a Snickers, and a few coins scattered across the beige carpet.
Gavin dropped to the floor and rummaged through Theo’s school stuff. “Where is it, Theo? Who’d you give it to?”
“All right, all right,” Marcus said, stepping between the two boys. “It’s gone. Theo, when did you see it last?”
Theo told them about Tunes playing it in Mr. J’s class.
“And you let him?” Gavin said, his eyes bulging as big as his biceps.
“He played it before I even knew he’d taken it. As soon as I knew, I told him to stop.”
“So anyone in that class could have stolen it from your backpack afterward,” Gavin said.
“Easy there, Michael Jackson,” Theo said with a glare. “Don’t start accusing my friends. Somebody out in the hall could have recorded it with their phone.”
“Someone out in the hall?! How many people heard it?”
Theo explained about the kids who had gathered at the door to listen.
Gavin exploded. He jumped to his feet and kicked Theo’s backpack across the room.
“Hey!” Theo said.
“Gavin,” Marcus said sternly, “knock it off.”
“But, Uncle Marcus, your son has ruined my life.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Theo said.
“Theo, be quiet,” his dad scolded. To Gavin: “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Look, even if you do decide to pursue legal action against Wild World, the longer it’s on YouTube and getting hits, the more damages you can claim. Meantime, we need to get you on the next bus home so you don’t miss school.”
“But, Uncle Marcus—”
Marcus cut him off. “Do I look like I’m open to negotiation?”
Theo and Gavin studied Marcus’s rock-hard cop face. He looked like he was ready to arrest both of them.
They drove Gavin to the bus terminal, where Marcus bought him a ticket back to Los Angeles. They watched him climb into the bus and settle into a window seat.
As Theo and his dad walked away, Theo looked over his shoulder and saw Gavin glaring at him through the glass. Gavin pointed at him and made a slicing motion across his throat. Just like Motorpsycho had done.
Seems to be a popular reaction to knowing me, thought Theo.
WEDNESDAY.
Back at school.
Two days before Friday. The End of the World.
How will it end for me? Theo wondered. Death by Motorpsycho? Death by Brain Train Showdown? Death by Basketball Game Loss?
Did the ancient Mayan calendar offer any clues?
What about the ancient Loser calendar?
Theo walked across the crowded parking lot as kids were dropped off at the curb. The long line of massive SUVs inching along
the drop-off zone looked like a herd of hunched monsters belching out kids and crawling on.
Theo scanned the surroundings for Motorpsycho, but he didn’t see him anywhere.
He sighed with relief. Finally, a break. A chance to catch his breath and think about—
Thwack.
A thick hand slapped him hard on the back, sending him stumbling forward a couple of awkward steps.
“Hey, little cousin,” the familiar voice said. “Miss me?”
Theo spun around to see Gavin grinning.
“What are you doing here?” Theo demanded.
“Came to help you with the investigation of who stole my CD. That is what you were going to do today, right?”
Actually, Theo hadn’t given it much thought. He had too many worries of his own to get involved with a hunt for whoever sold Gavin’s song to Wild World.
“You’re supposed to be in L.A. We put you on the bus last night.”
“I got off after you left.”
“Where’d you sleep?”
“Bus station. I just swapped my ticket for another one in the morning, so it looked like I was just waiting for a bus.”
“What about Grandma? She must be worried.…”
“I called her last night. Told her I was spending the night at your house, that I’d see her tonight.”
Theo frowned. “What’s she going to say when she finds out the truth?”
Gavin shrugged. “Can’t worry about that right now. I’ve got to find out who stole my song. That’s my future, son—my whole life. You know I’m not good in school like you. And I don’t have any real sports talent. I write songs, man. It’s what I love and what I want to do for the rest of my life.”
Theo felt a twinge of sympathy for his cousin. Earlier that morning, he had checked YouTube, and the video of “Wolfheart” already had over two hundred thousand views. It had gone viral. People from all over the country were commenting on it. Most praised it as the best, most original song they’d heard in a long time. They were calling Wild World geniuses. They thought the band wrote the song. That wasn’t right. Theo could understand how that would make Gavin feel.
“Did you contact the band? Wild World?” Theo asked.
“Yeah. All I got was some manager guy who said he didn’t know anything about it. I told him I’d sue and he laughed. He said, ‘Kid, you know how many times a day you hear that in this business?’ And he hung up.”
“So, we’ve got to find whoever took it and get him or her to confess.”
Gavin nodded. “That’s the only way they’ll take my claim seriously.”
Theo thought about it. “Who in this school would have the connections to get a song to Wild World? You can’t just call them and say you’ve got a song.”
“Where do we start? I’m telling you right now that I don’t mind twisting a few arms to get the truth.”
“Wait a minute,” Theo said. “Why are you suddenly acting so nice to me? Yesterday you called me a thief and a liar.”
Gavin chuckled. “Come on, Theo. You know I’m a hothead. I let my mouth run before I’ve thought things through. Last night at the bus station, my brain had time to catch up to my mouth and I realized you would never do that to me. No matter how much you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Theo said without much conviction.
Gavin bumped shoulders with him. “Theo, man, I know I’ve given you plenty of cause. I’ve acted like a jerk to you. I’m not going to get all Dr. Phil or anything. It was what it was. But since I’ve been writing my songs, I’ve been seeing things different.”
“Like when you tackled me yesterday and tried to choke me to death?”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a hundred percent changed. The old Gavin’s still riding shotgun with the new improved version. And sometimes he likes to drive.”
“Three words: choke…to…death.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you, cuz, just get your attention.”
Theo started walking off. Gavin stayed put. Theo stopped and turned. “Well, let’s go. We have a thief to catch. And tell Old Gavin to sit in the backseat.”
HAVING Gavin at his school made Theo think of what would happen if you tossed a wild boar into a room six inches deep in farm-fresh eggs.
Squash! Crunch! Splat!
Gavin with Theo’s best friend:
Brian approached the lunch table cheerfully, swinging his bulging lunch bag as he walked. The sight of Gavin sitting beside Theo made him freeze in midstep, like someone who sees a cobra curled in the toilet he was about to pee in. The cheerfulness instantly evaporated from his body and he slumped in anticipation of Gavin’s insults.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Hey, Chubs, stolen any good songs lately?” Gavin said as a greeting.
“Don’t call him that, Gavin,” Theo warned.
“What’s he doing here?” Brian asked, a slight tremble in his voice.
Theo filled him in. CD missing. Song on Internet. Searching for thief.
“So I’m a suspect?” Brian asked indignantly.
Theo shrugged. “I guess everyone who heard the CD that day is.”
“I haven’t been suspected of anything since Rabbi Vohen accused me of eating the box of matzo on Passover. Took me an hour and a lot of tears to convince him I was innocent.”
“I forgot how much I missed your boring stories, Chubs.” Gavin smirked. “Besides, you’re not really a suspect. You wouldn’t have the guts.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I really did eat all the matzo. So the joke’s on you, Gavin.”
Theo laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder to calm him.
“How’d you get the school to let him in here?” Brian asked, still huffing with anger.
“I told them the truth. He’s my cousin visiting for the day. They gave him a pass.”
“Security at this school sucks,” Brian said, glaring at Gavin.
Gavin looked around at the buildings and nodded as if impressed. “Pretty fancy setup you boys got here. We find the kid that stole my song, maybe I’ll make enough money to go to a place like this. Maybe even this place.”
“That removes our incentive to help you,” Brian said.
“Whoa, ‘incentive.’ Did you eat a dictionary?” He patted Brian’s stomach. “Or maybe the guy who wrote it.”
Brian stepped away from him and slid onto the bench beside Theo. “None of your friends would have taken it,” he said to Theo. “It has to be somebody else.” He frowned at Gavin. “Maybe one of your friends stole it. Or more likely enemies, since I’m sure you have a lot more of those.”
“I never played it for nobody!” Gavin barked. “Theo’s the only one I let hear my songs.” A few kids at other lunch tables looked over.
“Keep it down,” Theo cautioned, “or they’ll throw you out of here.”
“Just for raising my voice?” Gavin laughed. “If they did that at my school, the place would be a ghost town.” He took a slice of carrot cake from his tray and slid it across the table toward Brian. “Tell you what, Lyin’ Brian. You give me the name of the thief and you can have this big ol’ slice of heaven. Yum, yum.”
Brian opened his lunch bag and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade, a fat-free yogurt, and celery stalks with peanut butter smeared on them. “Thanks, Gavin. I’m covered.”
Gavin laughed. “A diet, huh? I bet you’ve been on more of those than the number of pimples on your cheeks.”
“At least I have the hope of becoming better. You don’t.”
“Rain give that lunch to you?” Theo asked.
“I’m perfectly capable of making my own lunch, Theo. She just got me started that one time.” He took a bite of yogurt. “That reminds me, you heard from Motorpsycho?”
“Who’s Motorpsycho?” Gavin asked.
“Some creep who knows Rain,” Theo said.
“Who’s this Rain chick?” Gavin asked.
Brian and Theo exchanged smiles.
“You’ll see,” Theo said.
>
Brian crunched a bite from his peanut butter celery stalk and grinned at Gavin.
Gavin with the Brain Train:
While waiting for Mr. J to arrive, Theo introduced Gavin to the Brain Train team. Everyone but Rain was there.
Upon being introduced, Brooke released a loud snort that said, “I’ve already forgotten meeting you, chump.”
Tunes smiled in his usual friendly way and offered Gavin a fist bump. “What up, dude?”
Gavin did not bump.
“Hey,” Daryl said, nodding coolly like he was trying to show he was street tough like Gavin. “Down from L.A., huh? That’s cool.”
Gavin ignored everyone but Tunes. He pointed his finger at Tunes’s face like a gun. “You’re the guy that took the CD from Theo’s backpack and played my song for everyone.”
“That was your song?” Tunes said excitedly. “Man, it is awesome. I saw the Wild World video on YouTube, dude. Have you seen it? Man, they really played the crap out of it.”
“Yeah, I saw that, too,” Daryl said. “I concur. It’s awesome.”
“The tune is really catchy. I already know how to play it,” Tunes said proudly.
“I especially like your lyrics,” Daryl said, and started to sing in a surprisingly good voice:
I think about everything I haven’t done.
And everywhere I’ve never been.
And I howl at the moon.
I just howwwl at the moon.
He howled, and then grinned at Gavin. “Can I get the rest of the lyrics from you, dude?”
Gavin lifted Daryl’s backpack from the desk and held it above his head. “Can I beat your face with this, dude?”
Daryl winced. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Knock it off, Gavin,” Theo said.
Gavin dropped the backpack to the floor and moved in front of Tunes. He grabbed the sides of the desk and leaned forward until his face was just inches from Tunes’s frightened one. Tunes leaned back into the chair, but there was nowhere else to go.
“You can play the tune and your pal here knows the lyrics. That seems pretty effing suspicious.”
“Dude, it’s on the Internet,” Tunes said. “Pretty much anyone can play or sing it now.”
Sasquatch in the Paint Page 14
