Brilliant Hues

by Naomi Kinsman

  Margo smiled triumphantly as the salesgirl bustled in our direction. “See ya, girls.”

  Bri hastily pulled the earrings out of her purse, but not before the salesgirl saw her. “I’m sorry, but—”

  Grant closed the distance between us almost immediately. “The girl who was just here dropped those into Bri’s purse.”

  The salesgirl looked up at Grant with the half-terrified look almost everyone gave him. She cleared her throat. “Are you … um … sure?”

  “Positive,” Grant said.

  “Uh, well, okay,” the salesgirl said. “Just, uh, let me know if you need help.”

  Maybe having Grant around wasn’t all that bad.

  “Thanks,” Bri said to Grant, as the salesgirl left.

  “Are you girls ready to go?” Grant asked.

  “Just a few more minutes?” No way would I let Juliet leave without buying the tank top now. “Juliet wants to try on that tank top.”

  Once Grant was out of earshot, Alice whispered, “See? She’s terrible.”

  The thing was, Alice was right. Margo was terrible. But still, ganging up on her was wrong. I should say something. I knew I should. But what?

  “So are we going to try these on?” Alice asked Juliet. “I think we should get matching ones for camp. You too, Bri.”

  Alice had a lot of difficult qualities. She was bossy and opinionated and sometimes she pouted when she didn’t get her way. But she was also a totally loyal friend.

  Juliet shrugged, totally unconvincingly. We all knew Margo had gotten under her skin.

  “Come on, Juliet,” Bri said, choosing a matching tank top off the rack, and she and Alice marched Juliet off to the dressing room.

  Pips and I looked through the jewelry and hair glitz at the front of the store while we waited for the girls.

  “You should get these, Sadie.” Pippa held up a pair of bobby pins, each with stars. “They’d match your necklace and earrings.”

  Without thinking, I reached for my earring. Andrew. He popped into my mind when I least expected, and every time, that little thrill of pain — or was it happiness — shot through me.

  Pippa put the bobby pins in my hand and closed my fingers around them. “Come on, you know you want to.”

  Her face went pale, and I followed her gaze out the store window. Two boys stood outside. I thought I recognized them from her pictures.

  “Isn’t that Ryan?” I asked.

  The other boy saluted Pips.

  “And Rickey,” she said, waving. “Juliet is going to hate this. I told Ryan we were going to the mall and a movie, but I didn’t think he’d show up. I’ll go talk to him.”

  Pips went outside and Grant walked over to me. “Busy night.”

  “That’s Pippa’s friend who’s a boy,” I said. “She wants to invite him to the movie.”

  Grant shrugged. “I’ll chaperone.”

  I’d expected Grant to be humiliating, but so far, he’d only been helpful.

  “I’ll go call her mom to make sure it’s okay.” Grant walked out to talk to Pips.

  “What’s going on?” Alice asked, back from the dressing rooms with Bri and Juliet.

  “That better not be Rickey out there.” Juliet glared out the window.

  The girls paid for their tank tops, and I bought the bobby pins, and then we all went out to join Pips and the boys. Grant hung up from his conversation with Alexis.

  “You guys can come along if you want,” he said to the boys.

  Rickey looked like he wanted to make a snide comment, but he must have thought better of it. He took one look at Grant and closed his mouth.

  “We better go if we want to buy popcorn and sour patch kids.” Pippa checked her watch.

  “Is Jason coming?” Bri asked Ryan.

  Ryan leaned back on his heels and smiled, a good smile that made me instantly like him. He had wavy brown hair that he wore a little long, and the freckles on his nose matched Pippa’s.

  “I called him, but he wasn’t super excited about the girly movie,” Ryan said.

  “Sour Patch Kids?” Pips had already started walking. “I can’t watch a movie without them.”

  The movie theatre was at the other end of the mall. When we finally arrived, and after we waited through the endless ticket line, Pips led us to the candy counter.

  “Want some worms, Juliet?” Rickey asked.

  She brushed past him and went for a soda. Apparently, her strategy was “pretend he’s not here.” The rest of us loaded up on popcorn and candy, and then we searched for our theatre.

  Grant sat a few rows behind us to give us a little space. Pips, Ryan, and Rickey shared a bucket of popcorn, and the other girls had a bucket too. No big deal, it wasn’t like they meant to leave me out. Still, every tiny lonely moment felt like a big deal, just now. I wished Andrew were here. Or even Ruth or Frankie. But the only person I had was my super-nanny. Grant’s watchful eyes burned into the back of my head. I slumped down in my seat and pretended to be very interested in choosing Jelly Belly flavors until the lights lowered.

  All I had to do was survive the movie. Afterwards, we’d take the girls home, and I could go draw. I wished I could bring my sketchbook with me everywhere, so that even here, in the dark, I could draw when I needed to. But sketching at a movie would only prove how different from the others I was, and right now I felt alien enough.

  A pack of boy-crazy girls chased a superhero across the screen, squealing.

  “I bet Grant’s loving that,” I said.

  Pips snorted. “I’m sure he loves squealing.”

  I threw a smile back at him, and I swear he smiled back. So. Swat-guy could smile.

  Chapter 10

  Confidential

  Dad was working at home today, and Grant was over to walk Higgins, so the kitchen was crowded at lunch. Mom, Dad, Grant, and I sat at the table eating sandwiches. Higgins chowed down on a rawhide bone, since technically he only ate breakfast and dinner.

  I ripped off some lettuce and nibbled, wondering how to make Grant smile again. Yesterday at the movies, he’d seemed almost human. If I could make him smile in front of my parents, that would be a true victory.

  While I was still weighing options, Dad’s cell phone rang. He made an apologetic face and pushed back in his chair.

  “I’m sorry, who is this?” After listening for a moment, he shook his head. “No. I have no statement. The case is confidential.”

  Anger tightened at the corner of his lips as he continued to listen.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. No. I have no public statement.” He hung up, put the phone back into his pocket, and took his nearly uneaten sandwich to the sink.

  “Where are you going?” Mom asked.

  “I need to go back to the office,” Dad said. “Grant, can you please stay tonight until I’m home? It may be after dinner. Call for take out or something, Cindy. And save me some, please.”

  He kissed her on the top of her head, grabbed an apple and headed for the door, not looking at me once. I twisted my napkin, trying to keep my face neutral. He couldn’t know about the elevator, could he? I hadn’t even thought about possible security tapes. Someone could have seen Karl and said something to Dad. Was that why he was hurrying off to work?

  “Wait, Matthew,” Mom said. “Who was that? What did they want?”

  I couldn’t look at him, could hardly breathe.

  But Dad only sighed. “I’ll tell you when I get home. It’s a mess.”

  The kitchen door swung behind him and he was gone.

  Grant picked up his sandwich, which, like everything, looked miniature in his huge hands. “I’ll pick up food later.”

  I smoothed out my napkin. Like I could eat after all that.

  “Not hungry, Sadie?” Mom asked.

  “May I be excused?” I asked.

  She nodded, and I went upstairs to wait for Grant to finish eating. I flopped onto my bed and closed my eyes.

  I’m scared.

  The prayer,
which was not much of a prayer, came out sharp and surprising. Everything had been happening so fast and I hadn’t taken time to be quiet, to pray. For me, the best way to quiet my mind and talk with God was to draw. Last year, no matter how bad things became, drawing had been my anchor. I’d begun to need to draw the way I needed to breathe. The smell of charcoal and the sound of stroke after stroke on paper calmed me until I could gather all my questions and thoughts and worries, and dump them all out on the page, so I could see them clearly. And as I did, tiny thoughts slipped into my mind, thoughts I hadn’t considered before. They calmed me and helped me see myself and even the rest of the world differently. Maybe I couldn’t hear God’s voice, exactly, but I’d begun to recognize these thoughts, the tone and feeling of them, and knew they were from God.

  Drawing this way, opening up, was scary, too. I’d likely learn the truth about my feelings, even truths I had hidden from myself. Like my prayer. I’d been working too hard to cover up my secrets; I hadn’t admitted to myself that I was scared, too.

  I took out my sketchbook and drew quickly, little snippets of whatever flashed to mind: Andrew throwing a stick into the creek for Sink-the-Boat, Pippa running on the beach, Ruth eating ice cream at Black Bear Java, Vivian adding ceramics to one of her sculptures. I wasn’t afraid of any of these things, so why were these images coming to mind, instead of Karl, or Dad totally furious with me? Maybe I was afraid I’d never be happy like that again. My life would continue to get worse and worse, like a bad movie, with Grant, the muscle man, shadowing me everywhere I went. Dad, in the middle of huge trouble at work. Me, hiding a million secrets that weren’t entirely my fault, while trying to fit back into my life here. Deep down, I knew I’d have to eventually tell Dad about Karl, or he’d find out on his own. He’d find out about Charlotte and camp, too. And I’d be grounded for life, locked up in my house with my sick mom and the bodyguard.

  “Ready, Sadie?” Grant called up to me.

  When I came downstairs, he already had Higgins leashed up and ready to go.

  Mom stood in the hallway, nervously straightening the pictures on the wall. “If you see anyone suspicious, call me right away.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I said. “But you’re not supposed to answer the phone.”

  Mom fluttered her hand impatiently. “I can answer if it’s Grant’s number. And keep your eyes open, Sadie.”

  “I will.”

  Mom gave me a once over. “Maybe you shouldn’t go today. Should I call Dad and ask?”

  “Mom, I need air. You can’t keep me cooped up inside all the time. And I’ll be with Grant. And Higgins.”

  “We’ll be all right,” Grant said. “I promise. See you in about half an hour, Cindy.”

  Higgins took off the minute Grant opened the door, and I nearly had to run to keep up with them. We turned left out of the driveway and lurched along the wide embankment between the two-lane road and the redwood forest as Higgins darted after every squirrel. Our house wasn’t really in a neighborhood. Woodside was more like a forest that had been tamed every half-mile or so to allow for a house.

  “Did anyone train him?” Grant asked as Higgins yanked his arm yet again.

  “He grew up in a real forest, and I gave up on leashing him. He’s addicted to squirrels.”

  “I see that,” Grant said, his elusive smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

  He tugged on the leash. “Sit, Higgins.”

  Higgins sat, immediately, and I stared, “How did you do that?”

  “Here, you take the leash.” Grant handed over the leash and traded me places. “Stand on his right, and give him a little slack with his leash. If it’s tight, he’ll always pull.”

  I let the leash out a bit.

  “Now say, ‘heel,’ and start walking. The minute he pulls, stop, and make him sit again.”

  I took two steps and Higgins was already tugging at the end of his leash. “He doesn’t know this command.”

  “No, but he’ll learn. As you go, give the leash little tugs and remind him to heel. When he walks beside you, give him a treat.” Grant passed me a handful of small treats.

  I started up again, tugging and telling Higgy to heel. The second he started prancing along beside me, I laid on the encouragement thick, telling him what a good dog he was and gave him a treat. He tilted his head and cocked an ear, his classic are-you-nuts look. We started up again, and he heeled for a good fifteen seconds. I gave him another treat.

  “He’s smiling at you,” Grant said. “And catching on.”

  We did the heel-treat thing until my treats were gone and my arm muscles ached.

  “Okay, your turn.” I handed the leash back to Grant.

  Higgins was far from a perfect walker, and he lost focus every time something rustled in the underbrush, but at least I could keep up with him and Grant now. If only every problem were as easy to solve. I felt like I might explode with all the secrets building up inside me, knowing that Dad might come home totally furious. Still, I wasn’t ready to talk about Karl. Maybe if I talked to Grant about one of my other million problems, I’d start to get a grip.

  “What do you think of Margo?” I asked, the question nearly bursting out of me. “You know, the girl who dropped the earrings in Bri’s purse?”

  After a pause, Grant said, “She’s angry about something.”

  I stopped walking. “Why do you say that?”

  “You can tell by the way she stands, the way she walks. Like with Higgins. You can see stubbornness in his body language. He clearly wants to do things his own way, but he also wants to please. All this heeling and giving treats wouldn’t work if Higgins were angry. We’d have to train him a totally different way.”

  There was no way that the solution to fixing Margo was like training a dog.

  Still, I couldn’t help asking, “So, uh … how would you train a dog if it were angry?”

  “First you’d have to convince the dog you were a friend,” Grant said.

  All I could think about was Karl. “Can I tell you something?”

  Grant didn’t answer. He just looked at me, waiting for whatever I would say.

  I chickened out. “My friends do this thing where they try to stop people like Margo from pushing them around, by intimidating them or threatening them. And I know it’s wrong, what my friends are doing, but I can’t ask them to sit back and let Margo treat them like that, either.”

  Grant nodded, and when he didn’t offer advice, I started walking again. It felt good to talk, even if I wasn’t telling him about Karl.

  “In Owl Creek, this girl, Frankie, picked on me from the minute I arrived for no good reason. But like you said, she was super angry about a lot of things that mostly didn’t have to do with me. And after a while, a long couple months, she and I started to work things out.”

  Grant had Higgins totally under control as we walked side by side. “What changed?”

  “Her dad forced her to pretend to be my friend, but while she was pretending, we actually got to know one another, and we realized we’d made unfair assumptions about each other. And then, when the truth came out about her dad, we had to learn how to trust one another.”

  “Not everyone can end up friends in the end, though,” Grant said.

  “No.” I kicked a pinecone out of the path. “I can’t imagine Juliet and Margo becoming friends.”

  “Still, mutual respect might be possible.”

  I nodded, tucking this away to think about later. Maybe it was possible to find a solution that didn’t involve ganging up on Margo. I could try to figure one out at least. And maybe eventually, Dad could help Tyler and Karl find some mutual respect, too.

  I looked across the road at the giant house coming up on our right, white pillars and all. I’d almost forgotten to look for doors. Not that door, though. Too stuffy.

  A small winding road led off to our left, lined with smaller houses that looked like cabins and giant redwood trees.

  “Can we go that way?” I asked.
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br />   Grant glanced up the road, probably assessing risk. Then, he gave a small nod and turned. Somewhere, one of these houses had to have a door worth painting. I’d even settle for a creaky old gate as long as it was interesting. And had good texture. With paint, texture mattered.

  We rounded a corner and there, tucked into the trees, was a house entirely covered in ivy. The door had been painted red once, but now was weatherworn and peeling. I stopped and stared.

  Grant stopped a hundred yards beyond me, realizing I wasn’t with him. “What?”

  “Can I borrow your phone?”

  He hurried back. “Do you see something?”

  “No, I just need a picture of that door. Tell me a family of dwarves doesn’t live there.”

  Grant looked at me like I’d grown an extra ear. “A family of what?”

  “Never mind. So can I borrow your phone?”

  He handed it over and I snapped a picture of the door.

  Grant checked his watch. “We should start back, so your mom doesn’t worry.”

  Okay by me. Now that I’d found the door, I couldn’t wait to dip my brush into paint.

  “You take Higgins again,” Grant said. “It’s good practice.”

  Chapter 11

  Bouncing Off the Walls

  I had never seen so many kids before in my life. Okay maybe that was an exaggeration. Still, there were literally kids everywhere, bouncing off the walls, drawing self portraits on the tables, and playing some form of crawl-tag under the tables.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” Jess said. “The natives are getting restless.”

  I scanned the room. I was supposed to teach these kids how to draw? How was that even possible?

  “Beetle,” Jess called over the din.

  Suddenly, amazingly, they all stopped, turned to her, and shouted, “Face!”

  They all made crazy faces with fingers wiggling like antennae for about ten seconds and then dropped obediently into chairs, as though they were the best behaved group of kids you’ve ever seen.

  Jess grinned. “Impressive. Ten more beetle-faces like that and you’ll win your Popsicle party.”