by Matt Fazio
Mr. Zimmer then noticed Drew’s tennis ball on his lawn. He picked it up and handed it to Drew.
“Thank you.”
Mr. Zimmer began to walk away but stopped and said, “You remember when me and my brother painted this house?”
Drew shook his head side to side.
“Yeah, was probably ten years ago, now. The house used to be a putrid green, something I hated for years. And instead of gettin’ a professional to paint it, me and my dumb brother thought we could do it. Took us almost a month and it didn’t look too great afterwards, but boy do I love the house being anything but that awful, putrid green. My brother passed away a few years ago, remember? Guess he won’t be helping me this time.” The words didn’t seem to be meant for Drew, even though he was the only person there with Mr. Zimmer.
Without saying goodbye, Mr. Zimmer walked toward the front of his house. Drew continued to stare at the catastrophe. After a few minutes, he wiped his cheeks again and went inside.
A peanut butter and banana sandwich was on the dining room table. His mouth watered for it, and he felt his stomach clench and grumble. He knew his mom had left it there for him because it was his favorite sandwich, but he resisted the urge to pick it up and take a bite. He saw that his mom was sitting on the front porch, and he stepped outside to join her.
“Mom, did you see what happened next door?”
“Of course I did. That was the crash we heard last night. I feel so bad. I’m just relieved no one was hurt.”
“What are they gonna do?”
“Oh, I don’t even know. It’s so much damage, I don’t even know where they begin.”
Drew shook his head and looked out at the street. Water was still streaming along the curb, and newspapers were scattered all around. Some neighbors were outside, examining the damage and picking up items that had been tossed out of place.
Moments later Mr. Daley’s white pick-up truck pulled into the driveway. He got out, walked over to the edge of the yard, and began talking to Mr. Zimmer. After a handshake and a pat on the back, Mr. Daley made his way to the front porch.
“Dad!” said Drew.
“Hey, bud, what are you doin’ out here?”
“Are you okay? Why didn’t you call back?”
“It’s just been such a mess,” said Mr. Daley. “We lost power at the office last night, so I went home. Problem was, I had no power at my place either, and my cell phone died, and of course I couldn’t charge it, so I couldn’t call, it’s just a real mess. I was gonna stop over last night, but I figured your mom had things under control. Didn’t mean to scare you, bud.”
“How are things looking out there now, Ryan?” Penny asked. “We only saw the park.”
“Not great. Main Street’s flooded. Joyce Drive is closed off. There’s a cop down on Coelho directing traffic, but that’s not helping much.”
“It’s such a shame,” Penny said, shaking her head. “Hey, why don’t we go inside? It’s still a bit chilly out here.”
Mr. Daley took off his muddy boots, and the three of them went inside and sat down at the dining room table. Drew sat in the chair by the sandwich, but he still didn’t touch it.
“Coffee?” Penny said to Ryan. She got up and walked over to the counter.
“Sure.” He smiled and tapped Drew on the arm. “You think she’ll figure it out?” he whispered.
Drew paused for a moment then smiled, trying not to laugh.
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Penny said, looking at Ryan and Drew skeptically as she scooped some coffee out of a canister.
Drew and his dad sat quietly with slight smirks on their faces.
“Ah – you two are the worst! Okay, okay, you got me,” Penny said, realizing she couldn’t make the coffee without electricity. “Hey, I’m just getting this ready for when the power comes back on, that’s all.”
Drew laughed, and for a moment he forgot about the storm. He looked back at his dad and, in a serious tone, asked, “Did you go look at the park, though?”
“Yeah, I did, bud. That’s why I drove straight over,” Mr. Daley said in a muffled voice.
“It’s really bad,” said Drew. “The swing set is ruined.”
“I told him nothing is ever ruined,” said Penny from the counter. Those words seemed eerily familiar to Drew, but he figured it must have been because she had said them at the park just a little while ago.
Mr. Daley put his hand on Drew’s shoulder. “Well, we built it before, and we can build it again. We’ll just have to make it even better. It’s all we can do.”
“Yes, and I know you didn’t want to hear this when we were at the park,” said Penny, returning to the table, “but your painting was really good. We need to get you more art supplies. I didn’t know you were such an artist.”
Drew fought the urge to smile. Then, as quickly as it had gone out, the power came back on.
“See,” said Penny. “I told you both. You thought I didn’t know what I was doing, but I did. The power is back on, and I’m number one!”
She began dancing around the kitchen with her hands in the air, singing “I’m number one, I’m number one!”
It wasn’t often that Penny acted this way. In fact, Drew couldn’t recall a time when she had seemed so lively.
Penny looked at Drew and motioned to the sandwich on the table. Drew smiled and, finally, picked it up. Bite by bite, he began to feel better. He wasn’t sure why – maybe it was getting food in his empty stomach, maybe it was his parents’ comforting words, or maybe it was his mom’s zany behavior – but he felt reassured that things would be okay.
“I’ll make some calls today and see what we can do to get back to work on the park,” said Mr. Daley. “Remember, just because something might take a little bit of work, you know, a little elbow grease, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
Drew knew his dad was right. In a way, it was the hard work itself that made the swing set worth it.
“Well, I bet there’ll be a ton of people to help with the park again, right?” Drew nodded in answer to his own question. “So I was thinking maybe we can help Mr. Zimmer. I don’t think he’ll be able to fix his house by himself, so do you think we could see if he needs help?”
Mr. Daley smiled. “You’re a good kid, you know that? Finish that sandwich, and let’s get over there and see what we can do.”
Drew knew helping the Zimmers wouldn’t be as fun as building the swing set, but it seemed just as important, if not more. While sweeping pine needles out of the Zimmers’ second-floor bathroom that afternoon, he thought of the Mystery Artist again. Originally, he had thought his search would be an easy task. Now that he realized it was never meant to be easy, he no longer wanted to give up. In fact, he was determined to complete his mission now more than ever.
A Lie Before Breakfast
“Sink your teeth into this,” said Mr. Daley, sliding a bacon and egg sandwich along the coffee table. Drew picked up the muffin bun with both hands and paused.
“So, like I was saying last night, some of us are gonna go to the field to catch baseball later,” he lied. He kept his eyes on the sandwich and took a massive bite. Nothing creates an appetite quite like a lie before breakfast.
Mr. Daley nodded but didn’t say anything. He was more interested in Drew’s sandwich verdict than his tall tale.
With a mouth full of eggs, Drew mumbled what was intended to be, “It’s so good,” and proceeded to devour his breakfast.
Mr. Daley smiled and stepped back into the kitchen to make a sandwich for himself. Then he sat down on the living room couch next to Drew, and the two of them enjoyed a quiet breakfast together. For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of the old wooden clock on the wall.
“Since we can’t work on the park for a while, I was gonna go to the field today with my friends. That’s cool, right?” said Drew, finally breaking the silence. “I talked to Mom about it already.”
After the storm
from a few weeks ago, the broken swing set was removed from the park. Mayor Garcia announced that the park would be open for use, but the celebration was postponed yet again.
“Oh, good, yeah, that’s fine, bud. You can go hang out with your friends. Can’t wait to get back to the park, but it looks like we’ll have to wait until summertime. But, hey, since you liked building the swing set so much, how about I help you with some homework, like your mom wants, and then you can help me with some sketches for a new building?”
“For real?”
“Yeah, you’re the one with the artistic eye in the family. We can get some good work in before you leave.”
They finished breakfast, reviewed the math worksheet Mrs. Machado had given for homework, and began to lay out some sketches for a building Mr. Daley’s company was designing. The morning passed swiftly, and the old wooden clock was about to hit noon. When all three hands joined each other in pointing straight up, a soft bell chimed. Realizing the time, Drew rushed up the narrow staircase to get ready. It was almost time for the secret journey to begin.
“I didn’t realize it was already noon!” he shouted on his way up the steps. “Tommy and Caleb will be here soon.”
“Caleb?” said Mr. Daley, walking over to the bottom of the staircase.
“Caleb Monroe. You know him. He was on my baseball team last year.”
“Lanky kid whose hair is always in his eyes?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Drew answered from his room.
“What about Jeff?”
“He’s doing something with his Pap today.”
“So it’s just the three of you?”
Drew wasn’t sure if he was just being paranoid, but his dad seemed to be asking a lot of questions – more than he normally asked, anyway.
“Well, Zobby’s coming, too.”
“Oh, okay, good,” said Mr. Daley. “You’re just going to the field, right?”
“Yeah.”
There was a brief pause, and Drew suddenly became nervous.
“And Mrs. Anscombe is gonna come down with us too,” he blurted out. He hadn’t planned on telling this additional lie, but he figured it would put an end to his dad’s questions.
“Oh, that’s good,” said Mr. Daley. “Hey, if you wanna stay longer, I can come down and sub in for her if she wants.”
“Um …” Drew was glad he was up in his room, because he could sense his own dishonesty written all over his face. “Well, she usually reads while we play, so she doesn’t mind staying. I’ll tell her you offered, though.”
“Okay, good. And make sure to dress warm. It’s get-sick weather out there now, you know?”
“Got it,” said Drew.
He searched his dresser drawers for a pair of thick socks. After all, his dad was right. The temperature was supposed to drop throughout the day and hit the freezing point by night.
“Do you think it’s gonna snow?” Drew asked. “Mom said it might.”
“Well,” said Mr. Daley, “they said there’s a thirty percent chance this afternoon, and some areas could see up to three inches.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s not gonna snow. But it will get cold.”
Drew slid into his coat and instinctively put on his Pirates hat. Rolling his eyes at his own mistake, he replaced his favorite hat with a red beanie. Before leaving his room, he paused and grabbed his science book from his book bag. He had brought the book to his dad’s even though he didn’t have any science homework. He quickly leafed through it and stopped on page 139, viewing the drawing with mixed feelings. He still loved looking at it, but he was becoming frustrated that he hadn’t made much progress in his search for the Mystery Artist. After recommitting himself to his search following the storm, he had decided a few days later to show the picture to Jeff.
“Look at the detail. It’s like every single pencil stroke is perfect – like everything was supposed to be that way. Isn’t it awesome?” Drew had gushed.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” Jeff had said, but Drew could sense his lack of enthusiasm.
Despite Jeff’s lukewarm reaction, Drew still wanted to see if his friend could help him find the Mystery Artist.
“All you have to do is look up everyone online,” said Jeff.
Before Drew could object, Jeff called Tommy to help with the search. In a matter of minutes, the boys were in front of a laptop at Tommy’s house. As Jeff explained the situation to Tommy, Drew felt embarrassed, like everyone was talking about him and he had to sit and listen.
“Well, who’s on the list?” Tommy asked with his fingers on the keyboard.
“Oh, uh, I left the book at my house.”
“Then what are we gonna do? Why do you need to find this out anyways?”
“I remember one of the names – Stacey Janofsky. You can look her up.”
Drew spelled out the name for Tommy, but he withheld the other four names. He didn’t want his friends to know he had a list of the potential Mystery Artists hidden in his wallet. He didn’t want them to know the picture was the reason he had talked to Skylar. And he didn’t want Tommy to know his brother was on the list. Checking online might be helpful, but it felt like cheating, like it was somehow taking away from the search.
“I’m not seein’ nothin’,” said Tommy. “There’s a Stacey Janofsky here, but she’s old. So that can’t be her. Look, she’s from Virginia anyways.”
“Oh well,” said Drew. “It’s no big deal.” He regretted saying anything in the first place, and now he just wanted his friends to drop it.
“Sorry, man,” Tommy said with a shrug.
“Wait,” said Jeff, “what grade is this girl in?”
“Um, I think ninth, but it’s not –”
“Then let’s look her up in a yearbook!” said Jeff. Even though he had little interest in the drawing, he seemed to be excited about the search. “She should be in one of Jason’s old yearbooks, since they’re only a grade apart. At least you can find out what she looks like.”
When Tommy went to find the yearbook, Drew became excited again. After all, until now Stacey Janofsky was just a name on his list. It would be nice to finally put a face to that name.
Tommy returned with Jason’s eighth-grade yearbook and handed it to Drew. Drew flipped to the page with the seventh-graders whose last names began with ‘J’, and there she was: Stacey Janofsky. She had very red hair, she wore purple-rimmed glasses, and she looked quite uncomfortable having her picture taken.
“Hey,” Jeff said to Tommy, “maybe Jason knows her. She’s only a year younger than him. You should ask him.”
Drew wished the words from Jeff’s mouth could be picked up and shoved right back in. He didn’t want Tommy to ask Jason about this! What if Jason is the artist himself? Or what if he’s not and he just laughs at me? Drew knew he might have to approach the intimidating tenth-grader at some point, but he wasn’t ready to do so yet.
“I dunno, man,” said Tommy. “This girl looks like a huge dork, and my brother’s cool. He wouldn’t be friends with her.”
Since that afternoon, neither Jeff nor Tommy had brought up the picture. Maybe they thought Drew forgot about it, because he hadn’t brought it up either. But it was that day that Drew decided he wanted to find the Mystery Artist on his own.
As Drew stood in his room admiring the picture, he heard chatter outside. He went to his window and saw that Tommy and Caleb had arrived. He knew if Jeff had been with them they would have knocked on the door and come inside, but instead they waited outside by the curb.
“Daaay-leee! Daaay-leee!” Caleb chanted.
Tommy chuckled but didn’t join in the chanting.
“They’re here, Dad, I’ll see ya,” said Drew, speeding down the stairs.
He normally would have given his dad a hug before leaving, but he knew the more time he spent in the house, the more likely it was that Mr. Daley would sniff out the kids’ secret plan. So without giving his dad a chance to respond, Drew was already out
the front door.
****
“I’m tellin’ you, it’s only like twenty minutes away,” Caleb was saying. “I talked to three different seventh-graders –”
“Whoa, my dad’s right inside,” said Drew. “Don’t be so loud.”
“Come on, he can’t hear us.”
“He’s right, dude,” said Tommy.
“Whatever,” said Caleb. “We ready to go or what?”
Drew looked back to his front door to make sure his dad hadn’t heard anything. “Yeah, we just have to get Zobby first.”
Caleb tossed his head back and threw his hands in the air. “You got to be kidding me. Why is she coming?” Caleb never made it a secret that he didn’t care much for Zobby’s company.
“C’mon, she’s our friend,” Drew bit back.
“She’s your friend,” Caleb muttered under his breath.
Drew considered firing back with a similar comment, but he decided it was better not to respond. He was well aware of Caleb’s disdain for Zobby, but he invited her to come along anyway. The idea of being with just Tommy and Caleb made Drew a bit uneasy. He wasn’t sure why, but Tommy sometimes didn’t seem like himself around Caleb. So because Jeff was busy spending the day with his Pap, Drew invited Zobby. He knew she’d want to come anyway – Zobby was always up for an adventure.
“And it’s not like I hate her,” Caleb continued, “but it’s like she’s always trying to be one of the guys. I mean, it’s stupid that our league lets her play baseball with the boys. She’s a girl. What do you think they invented softball for? And she acts like she can do anything.”
“Are you sure you just don’t hate her because she’s better than you at baseball?” said Drew.
Caleb spun toward him. “Are you serious? I’m way better than her.”
“Well, she did strike you out last year,” said Tommy.
“She – she did not. She got lucky anyways. That umpire was blind.”
“You struck out swinging,” said Drew.
