Detours and Designs

by Matt Fazio

  Drew and Jeff stood inside the doorway and waited. Jeff turned to Drew to say something, but Jason emerged from the kitchen and came toward them. Jeff seemed to choke on the words at the sight of Jason. He stiffened like a statue with his lips sealed shut, looking down at the ground.

  Just ask him, Drew said to himself. But either because Jeff was there or because he still hadn’t summoned the courage, Drew also found himself tongue-tied as Jason approached.

  The boys instinctively parted like a double door. Jason passed through without breaking stride, slightly bumping into both boys, and walked out the front door. Drew watched as Jason hopped into a rusty Honda Civic that had pulled up to the curb. The exhaust was so loud that Drew could still hear it after the car disappeared up the street.

  Jeff again turned to Drew to say something, but Tommy came running down the stairs.

  “All right, let’s go,” he said.

  ****

  As the boys headed for Jeff’s house, Drew continued to wonder about what Jeff had said. All over the place. Why would Jeff say that? And why would Tommy agree? It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t all over the place. It was just that other people couldn’t see what was going on inside his head. You can’t judge someone if you don’t know what’s going on inside their head, can you? he wondered.

  Was it possible that all this time, the person Drew thought he was on the inside, the person he knew he was, was not the same person everyone else saw from the outside? It was strange to think about, like when you hear your own voice on a recording. Drew remembered the time he’d called home from his dad’s and left a message on the voicemail. When he got home the next day and heard the message, he couldn’t believe it was him. They were the words he had said, but the voice didn’t sound like his – it sounded like a distorted, barely recognizable echo of himself.

  And he thought about what Tommy had said: “Everyone knows it.” Everyone? Did everyone really think Drew was all over the place? Zobby? His parents? His teachers? Maybe Mrs. Steinbeck, but even Mr. Sawyer? Did the whole world view him as nothing more than some kid with a little jumping bean for a brain?

  Meanwhile, the boys were almost at Jeff’s house. Along the way, Tommy listed everything he got for Christmas, and Jeff gushed about the golf clubs he got from his Pap.

  “He always takes me mini golfing,” he said, “but this summer he’s finally gonna take me to the country club to play. Pap’s the best.”

  When the boys arrived at the Gray house, RJ was sitting on the living room couch waiting for them.

  “Hey, RJ, what’s goin’ on?” said Drew.

  Realizing that RJ must have thought Drew was “all over the place” when he had met him before, Drew wanted to try and show him it wasn’t true. He would show RJ that he was just as normal as any other kid.

  “Nothin’,” said RJ.

  “That’s cool,” said Drew, trying to sound as “normal” as possible.

  Almost as fast as Tommy changed, Jeff did too. He came back downstairs and the boys retrieved the sleds from the garage. As the other three boys walked down the front steps, Jeff snuck back and gave his mom a quick kiss on the cheek. Drew noticed it out of the corner of his eye but didn’t draw attention to it. And with a slight waddle to their gaits, the boys were off.

  ****

  The four boys made their way down the shovel-scraped sidewalks of Emerson Boulevard. The hill looked slick and untouched as it glistened in the sunlight. As soon as it was within their sight, the boys sprinted toward it. It was the only time kids could be seen running toward the school. There were stairs that led to the doors at the top of the hill, but the boys neglected to use them. Instead they stomped through the parking lot and began to clamber up the hill. After several minutes of their feet sliding from under them and causing them to slip back down, they finally struggled their way to the top.

  Drew stood and looked out over the horizon of the neighborhood. He set his sled on the ground, sat on it, tucked his legs, and began his descent down the hill. As the brisk December wind blew against his face, he finally felt the exhilaration he’d missed while cooped up in his house. Tommy came gliding down soon after, then RJ, then Jeff, each boy toppling over at the bottom when his momentum ceased.

  “Awesome!” said RJ. “Let’s do it again! Race you guys to the top!”

  The boys scrambled up the hill, flew back down, then repeated the act several more times. After a while, Jeff suggested the boys build a jump. Drew liked the idea. But just as they stooped down to begin building, Tommy scooped up some snow with both hands, packed it into a tight snowball, and whipped it at Jeff, striking him in the shoulder.

  “I’m hit,” Jeff cried.

  “Man down!” yelled RJ. “I will fight for my fallen cousin!”

  He formed a snowball of his own and threw it at Tommy, barely missing him. The snowball fight had begun.

  “Ha! Me and Drew against Jeff and RJ!” yelled Tommy. He grabbed Drew’s arm and yanked him over.

  “You guys go over there,” he directed Jeff and RJ, pointing to the other side of the parking lot. It hadn’t been plowed, and there was just one car, a half-buried Jeep, parked anywhere in sight.

  “Here,” said Drew, standing up his sled in the snow to use it as a shield, “I’ll make ‘em and you throw ‘em, then we’ll switch.”

  “Yeah, cool, start pilin’ ‘em up.”

  Snowballs flew through the air. Tommy threw the hardest, but just like on the pitching mound, he was wild. Few of his throws connected with his targets, and he was getting upset.

  He bent down behind his shield and said, “I think there’s something funky with the snow. Mine keeps breaking. Find some ice and make some ice balls.”

  Before Drew could respond, Tommy was struck on the top of his head by a snowball RJ had lobbed over his shield.

  “Yes!” RJ exclaimed.

  “Let me throw for a little,” Drew finally said.

  Unlike Tommy, Drew was precise and methodical when it came to the art of throwing a snowball. He waited and waited while Tommy replenished the arsenal.

  “What are you waiting for?” Tommy asked.

  “Wait for it …”

  As RJ stepped out from behind his shield to gather more snow, Drew swiftly shot up, planted his feet, and fired, drilling RJ in the chest with a tightly packed snowball.

  “Nice! Now let me try,” said Tommy.

  Now with a mountain of snowballs between them, Drew and Tommy unleashed. Tommy threw often and erratically, while Drew relied on patience and accuracy. He nailed his target on almost every throw.

  As the battle continued, Drew noticed a girl passing by behind Jeff and RJ. She was walking a big, brown, fluffy dog along the sidewalk. It was fighting to come over to the boys, as if it wanted to join in on the snowball fight, but the girl tugged at its leash.

  A flash of white came whirling at Drew. He tried to dodge but was too late. Thump. The snowball nailed him on his right hip.

  “Gotcha!” Jeff cried out.

  Drew regained his focus and packed together more snowballs. Tommy had been rapidly firing so many that their stock had quickly depleted. Drew popped back up to return the favor to Jeff but stopped before he could release the snowball in his hand. What he saw momentarily paralyzed him.

  Thump.

  Thwack.

  One snowball hit Drew in the left shoulder. Another smacked him on his right cheek. The ice stung as it seeped into his pores. Tommy pulled him behind his shield before he was hit again.

  “What are you doing, man? It’s like you’re not even trying.”

  Drew wiped at the slush dripping down his cheek, but his frosty glove only made it worse. He gritted his teeth and grabbed a snowball. He could hear Jeff and RJ laughing from behind their shields.

  They probably think I wasn’t paying attention because I’m ‘all over the place,’ he thought.

  He stood up, and RJ hopped up at the same time, smiling, ready to launch another attack. RJ fired a snowball.
Drew leaned to his right and it whizzed past him. He now had a clear shot at RJ, but he didn’t take it. The girl and her dog were walking away, and he had to stop them. He reared back and launched the snowball over his enemy’s camp. With a sharp splat, it landed hard against the capital letters on the back of the girl’s jacket – letters that spelled the name BALLENTINE.

  ****

  “Whoa,” said Tommy. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  Without answering, Drew ran over to the girl. He did the math in his head. Alexus Ballentine was the third name on the list, so that meant, if this really was her, she was in eighth grade. Did I really just throw a snowball at an eighth-grader?

  “Hi, uh, sorry about that.”

  The girl turned around and looked at Drew with a slight grimace.

  “We were just, um –” Drew continued.

  “Having a snowball fight,” she said. She gave a half smile that helped put Drew at ease.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, did you win?”

  “Um, I dunno. We weren’t really keeping score.”

  “Yeah, the score doesn’t really matter in a snowball fight, huh?”

  “No, I guess not,” said Drew.

  “Uh huh. Well –”

  “What’s your name?” Drew asked suddenly.

  “Alexus.”

  “Alexus Ballentine?” Drew asked. “Um, just because your jacket says Ballentine on the back.”

  “Yep, that’s me. I’m on the school dance team. They give us these jackets with our names on them.”

  It really was her. Alexus Ballentine. She had dark brown skin, big brown eyes, and a friendly smile that revealed a mouthful of braces. The rest of her was hidden, bundled up underneath the jacket, baggy sweatpants, and a white beanie pulled down over her head.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Drew Daley.”

  Alexus held out her hand, clad in a black mitten. “Nice to meet you, Drew Daley.”

  Drew kept his gaze fixed on her as he shook her hand. Was he shaking hands with the Mystery Artist, the person who created something that changed his life? Was it the very hand that drew the picture?

  After shaking hands, Alexus took a few steps backwards to continue her walk with her dog. It seemed like time was in slow motion as the potential Mystery Artist was leaving, and Drew was incapable of saying anything.

  Before she left, though, Alexus stopped, somehow noticing Drew’s curiosity, and said, “You look like you wanna ask me something.” Her round eyes narrowed a bit, as if she were trying to read Drew’s thoughts.

  “Oh, no, I’m just sorry about hitting you with that snowball.” Just say what you really wanna say. This girl is nice. She’s not scary like Huddy or Jason.

  “No biggie,” said Alexus. “My brother does stuff ten times worse, and –”

  “It’s just that you look familiar,” Drew blurted out. “Well, not you you, but your name. Your name sounds familiar, I mean.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’m not exactly famous. Maybe you have an older brother or sister who knows me? Or maybe you know my little brother, Adam. He’s in fourth grade.”

  “No, I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and I don’t think I know Adam,” said Drew.

  Alexus nodded and shrugged. “I dunno then. I don’t think I know you. Well, actually, I do now. You’re Drew Daley, the kid who nailed me in the back with a snowball while I was walking my dog, Lucky.” She finished her sentence with a smile to let Drew know she wasn’t mad.

  “Yeah, sorry again about that. Sometimes my aim isn’t very good.”

  “It’s okay. No big deal. See ya,” she said as she began to walk away a second time.

  “Wait …”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I think I just realized why your name sounds familiar,” said Drew.

  Alexus looked at him with a friendly curiosity. “Oh yeah? Why?”

  Drew snuck a glance over his shoulder. His friends had disappeared, though the sleds were still on the ground. From the corner of his eye he detected some movement behind the snow-covered Jeep, which was about 20 feet to the left. He was pretty sure Jeff, Tommy, and RJ were hiding behind it, trying to listen to his conversation.

  “Well, it’s nothing really, it’s just that, uh, I think I have your old science book, from Mrs. Steinbeck’s class.”

  “Oh, that’s cool. So you go to school here,” she said, motioning toward the building. “Small world, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “So I’m assuming you know that because you looked at the names inside the front cover, right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Alexus nodded. “I always do that, too. Don’t know why. I guess just to see if I’ll recognize one of the names.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. But I never remember the names later. You must have a pretty good memory, huh?”

  “What do you mean?” Drew asked. No one had ever told him he had a good memory before (at least not that he could recall).

  “To remember my name just because you saw it in your science book. That’s impressive. I bet you’re like the genius of your grade, huh?”

  “Definitely not. I’ve looked at the names a bunch of times. I mean, not a bunch of times, but …”

  “There’s that look again, like you wanna ask me something. What is it?”

  “Well … someone drew a picture in the book, and it’s really good, and I was wondering if maybe it was you.”

  “Hmm. It’s really good?”

  Drew shook his head eagerly. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Then I doubt it was me,” said Alexus. “I’m not much of an artist. All I can draw is stick figures.”

  “Oh. This picture is of an ocean shore. You can see the sunset and the sand and waves and everything.”

  “That sounds really cool,” said Alexus. “But yeah, sorry, wasn’t me.”

  “Oh, okay,” Drew murmured. “No big deal,” he added with sudden casualness, trying not to sound as disappointed as he really was.

  “Then again, I guess it’s possible it was me. It would’ve been like three years ago, so I could’ve drawn it and forgot about it. But if you said it was really good – and do you think it took a lot of time?”

  “Oh yeah,” said Drew. “There’s so much detail in it.”

  “Then it definitely wasn’t me, because I never would’ve had the guts to do something like that during Mrs. Steinbeck’s class. I was so scared of her.”

  “Yeah, she’s still scary!”

  Alexus shook her head. “Back then I was terrified of her, but seriously, she was one of the nicest teachers.”

  “What? She used to be nice?”

  Alexus laughed. “Well, maybe ‘nice’ isn’t the right word, but think about it – she has a quiz every week, but she doesn’t have any big tests. In other classes, they might only have like two tests for an entire quarter, and if you do bad on one, your grade is bad. But with Mrs. Steinbeck, you get nine quizzes each quarter, and homework, and science lab stuff. So one bad quiz doesn’t kill your grade, ya know? And she never gave homework on weekends, which was so nice.”

  “Oh, yeah, that is cool,” said Drew. Though he knew all those things, hearing them from Alexus helped him to see Mrs. Steinbeck in a new light. Mrs. Steinbeck might never be Drew’s favorite teacher, but he felt like he understood her better.

  “But anyway, what are the other names? Maybe I know one of them.”

  “Um, I don’t really –”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t remember the other names,” said Alexus. “You remembered mine.”

  “Okay, there are four others, but the only one I haven’t found is a girl named Stacey Janofsky. I looked her up online with my friends, but we couldn’t find anything.”

  “Stacey Janofsky,” Alexus repeated. “It does sound familiar …”

  “She should only be one grade ahead you,” said Drew.

  “Yeah, I dunno. I think I recognize
the name, but I don’t know who she is.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Alexus frowned. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know her.”

  “Man, how am I ever gonna find her?”

  “Maybe you can hit her with a snowball.”

  Drew blushed. “I –”

  “It’s okay. I think it’s cool what you’re doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re like, on a mission to find someone. You’re pretty focused, huh?” said Alexus.

  “Me, focused?”

  “Yeah. Focused on a mission to find Stacey Janofsky …”

  “The girl with bright red hair and purple glasses,” said Drew.

  “Wait, she has purple glasses?”

  “Yeah, at least she did in the yearbook picture I saw of her.”

  “Oh my gosh! That’s why I recognized the name. I do know who she is. I just didn’t know her name. Everyone always called her ‘Red.’”

  “Because of her hair?”

  “Actually, no,” said Alexus, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “I think it was because she had really red cheeks, especially when she got embarrassed.”

  The dog was getting restless and began pulling away.

  “Settle down, Lucky,” Alexus said. “Yeah, thinking about it now, I feel really bad. I never even knew her real name. Everyone called her ‘Red,’ not just me.”

  “Well, okay, so I can still find her, though,” said Drew.

  Alexus took on the expression of someone who had bad news.

  “What?” asked Drew. “Now you look like you wanna tell me something.”

  “Well, she doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “Oh. Well, was she an artist?”

  “I don’t really know. I know she was super smart, but she got made fun of a lot.”

  “Where’d she move to?” Drew asked.

  “No clue. That’s the thing. She kind of, you know, disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Yeah. Red was – I mean Stacey was really smart. Like really, really smart. She was always winning competitions at school, spelling bees and things like that. Then one day she just wasn’t there. My friend Mara, she’s a year older than me, was supposed to have a few classes with her. But on the first day of school, Stacey wasn’t there. And she didn’t show up the next day, or the next day, or ever.”