Moment of Truth

by Kasie West

  “Um . . . so? You know this guy isn’t really Heath Hall. As we’ve been told a million times.”

  “Maybe it’s a clue, though. Maybe he plans where to go based on the plots of the movies.”

  “Has there been a movie that involved swimming?” I asked, searching my memory for that answer.

  “He’s constantly swimming. Usually scuba diving to break into some fancy building,” Amelia said.

  “But what does that have to do with the school pool?”

  “Who knows? Maybe we’ll figure it out Thursday at seven. You and me at the museum.”

  “For sure. Is this a dress-up kind of event?” I rarely wore dresses except once or twice a year for charity events my parents made me go to. My mom had picked out every single one of those dresses so I wasn’t even sure if I had anything that would work for this.

  “Yes. I’ll find you a dress.”

  Before I had a chance to say anything else, my door swung open. My mom stood in it holding up two T-shirts. “Which one do you like better?” she asked.

  “Amelia, I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone,” Mom said after I hung up.

  “It’s okay.” I looked at the two shirts she held. They were both light blue. One had tennis shoes running across the top of the words Five K. The other had a ribbon tying Five and K together.

  “They’re both bad, aren’t they?” she said, scrutinizing them. “I should tell the designer to try something else.”

  “No, Mom. They’re fine. I like the tennis shoes one.”

  “Tennis shoes?”

  I pointed to the one on the right.

  “Those aren’t tennis shoes. Great. They’re supposed to be beakers.”

  “Beakers? Why would you have beakers on a shirt about running a five K?”

  “To show that the money raised will go to science to help find a cure.”

  I turned my head sideways, trying to see as beakers what clearly looked like tennis shoes to me. I couldn’t. “Oh. Okay. Well, that works too.”

  “Back to the drawing board,” she said, draping the shirts over one shoulder and leaving my room.

  “Try tennis shoes!” I yelled after her.

  “I love you!” she yelled back.

  My attention was drawn back to my computer, still open in front of me, a picture of Heath Hall filling my screen. “What is your story?” I stretched my hands above my head to loosen up my shoulders—they felt much better today.

  It was only Tuesday. Thursday and the museum seemed forever away. If we could figure out who Heath Hall was before that, then maybe I wouldn’t have to put on an Amelia-chosen dress.

  Eight

  Coach was standing over my lane when I finished my laps. He looked at his watch. Had he been timing me? I pulled off my goggles and earphones.

  “Moore. Everyone else is gone.”

  I looked at the lanes on either side of me. Sure enough, they were empty.

  “If you can’t hear the end whistle, maybe you should stop listening to music while you swim.”

  “You know, most coaches are happy that their athletes want to swim longer than they have to. You should be glad for my dedication and perseverance.”

  He cracked a smile. “Really? How many coaches are you basing this opinion on?”

  “Just you.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “And most coaches would want to reward me for my hard work by allowing me to swim the butterfly this Friday.”

  He ran his hand over his hair a few times. “I’ve told you this before. It’s too close to the freestyle. I need you strong for that one. Now get out of my pool so I can go home and see my family.”

  I pushed myself out of the pool, wincing a little at the slight pain in my right shoulder. It wasn’t too bad today, though.

  “And I’m serious about ditching the crutch,” he called after me.

  I gripped my headphones tighter. They weren’t a crutch; they helped me concentrate.

  As I headed toward the locker room, the sky already on fire with the setting sun, I saw Robert standing by the gate, leaning against one of the posts. My stomach fluttered. I hesitated, not sure if he was waiting to talk to me or not. I hadn’t seen him at the pool since we’d broken up. Before, I would’ve given him a big hug, soaking the front of his shirt and he would’ve pretended to be mad about it. But today his arms were crossed in front of his chest, not exactly a welcoming pose. He had on sunglasses, even though they were past necessary, so I couldn’t tell if he was even looking at me. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d need to say so. I picked up my towel and wrapped it around me.

  “Hadley,” he said when I was closer.

  I turned toward him, keeping a good twenty feet between us. “Yeah?”

  He didn’t move either, just leaned there against the metal post of the chain-link fence. “You still have some of my things. Could you bring them to school tomorrow?”

  “Some of your things? Like what?”

  “Like my Nike sweatshirt.”

  I slept in that sweatshirt at least once a week . . . maybe more. “What Nike sweatshirt?”

  “The navy one with the red lettering.”

  “Okay, I’ll bring it tomorrow.” I loved that sweatshirt but it was time I let it go. Let him all the way go. “Anything else?”

  “I think I left my math book there too.”

  “How have you been doing your math homework?”

  “Borrowing from Tony.”

  I hadn’t seen his math book. “I’ll look for it.”

  “Okay.” He finally straightened up from his lean but didn’t move to leave. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” I needed to be the one to leave first. He had been the first last time, after all. I surprised myself by actually acting on that thought.

  “Hadley.” He stopped me before I got too far. “Did you find out about Heath Hall?”

  That question had me turning back around. “Not yet. Did you want to tell me who he is?”

  “No. He’s going to be at the museum tomorrow, though.”

  I leveled him with an annoyed stare. Really? He still wasn’t going to tell me, but he was trying to make sure I remembered he knew? Those few butterflies left in my stomach were going to be easier to crush than I’d thought. “I saw that online.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “So . . . you’re going?”

  I looked at his feet, which were still shifting his weight back and forth. Why was he nervous? “You’re surprised?”

  “You’re not exactly an art fan. Plus, it doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me very well.” Why had he shown up here at swim practice, bringing all his memories with him and claiming to know my habits? “You could’ve just texted me, you know.”

  “What?”

  “About the sweatshirt and math book.”

  He pointed toward the track field across the parking lot. “I was here. Knew you would be too.”

  Of course he knew that. It’s why we broke up, after all. I was too single-minded. Is that why he didn’t think I’d go to the museum?

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his head lowering a bit, all his bravado gone. Why did this version have to show up?

  “It’s just, why are you getting caught up in the Heath Hall thing? I figured you’d mock him and write him off.”

  He was right, that was exactly what I would’ve done . . . had been doing since I first heard about Heath Hall. There was no way I was going to tell him that the only reason I was now interested was because I was trying to protect my swimming. If he knew that, it would only prove everything he ever thought about me. I set my jaw. Then something he said occurred to me. “What do you mean, you ‘figured I’d write him off’? Did you have something to do with him showing up at the swim meet?”

  Did he send him there to punish me? I wondered for a brief moment if
Robert actually was Heath Hall. But just like he knew me well, I knew him, and although Robert liked attention, he would never show up at a public event claiming to be someone he wasn’t for a bit of notoriety.

  “What? No . . . never mind. Bring my stuff tomorrow.” His indifferent face was back before he walked away. Again. I was supposed to walk away first this time.

  I was grumbling when I entered the building that housed the locker rooms. Apparently, I wasn’t paying attention either because I nearly plowed down DJ. He dropped a stack of papers that scattered upon impact with the floor.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  He lowered himself to his knees and gathered them. I helped, my towel restricting my usefulness.

  “It’s okay. You’re here late.”

  “So are you.” Just as I was about to pick up one of the pages, I saw my name at the top. I reached for it to get a better look when DJ snatched it from beneath my fingers and stood, arms full of disorganized pages.

  “What are those?”

  “Just time sheets and stuff,” he said, but I could tell that’s not what they were.

  “But it said, ‘one hundred butterfly,’ under my name. I’ve never raced in the butterfly.” At least not since starting high school.

  “You’ve swum it in practice.”

  DJ wasn’t a very good liar. “Is Coach going to let me swim it on Friday? Is that what it’s about?”

  “No . . . I mean, I’m not sure. But that’s not what these are.” He clutched the papers tighter as if I had X-ray vision and could see through them.

  “What are they, then?”

  “Hadley, stop. I know you think your persistence is charming, but it can be frustrating at times.”

  I gripped the top of my towel, glad to know every guy in the universe found my determination off-putting. My eyes stung with the insult.

  “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he said.

  “No. You didn’t.” I moved to walk around him and he stepped in front of me.

  “Hadley. I’m sorry. You are every coach’s dream. Persistence is key to what you do.”

  “DJ, don’t worry about it. I’m fine. See you around.”

  “Hadley,” he said, but I was already through the door to the girls’ locker room, glad he couldn’t follow me in there.

  Nine

  Amelia was late. It was 6:35. She was supposed to pick me up at 6:30. I sat at the counter in the kitchen, more dressed up than I’d been in a while. My hair was up in a bun, I wore the black dress that Amelia swore wasn’t too tight, and I was even wearing heels. If she didn’t get here soon, we were going to miss him. Tension had spread up from my shoulders and was beginning to settle in my neck.

  I tapped the edge of my art show ticket on the counter several times. I checked my phone. It was 6:37 and there were no missed calls or texts from Amelia. I tried to call her again. She didn’t answer. Ugh. Why didn’t I have a car? Sometimes it sucked depending on others for transportation.

  I knocked on my dad’s bedroom door and opened it when he gave a muffled reply. “Hey, Dad. Can I borrow your truck?”

  He was lying in bed reading a book, which he lowered to look at me. “I thought Amelia was picking you up.”

  “She’s late.”

  He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “Eight minutes late?”

  “I need to be at the museum by seven.”

  “It’s an open house–type thing. There’s a three-hour window to see all the pieces. You probably won’t need the whole three hours. Especially because I didn’t think you enjoyed looking at art.”

  Why did everyone think I didn’t appreciate art? Just because I wasn’t artistic didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate good art. But that wasn’t the point. I needed the whole three hours to make sure I didn’t miss Heath. If we missed him, we’d have to try something else, and so far, nothing else was working. We’d been talking to people all week and nobody knew anything concrete. I hoped Heath didn’t wait until 9:55 to show up tonight because my feet were already killing me. “I know, it’s just . . . we were meeting someone there at seven.”

  “I see. Yes, you can—”

  A car horn from outside cut him off.

  “Never mind! Thanks, Dad.” I tripped my way out of his room, then steadied myself. I needed more practice walking in heels.

  “Have fun,” he called after me. “And remember who you are!”

  “Already forgot!” I called back, then pulled the door shut behind me.

  I hurried to Amelia’s car. “Took you long enough,” I said when I got inside.

  “Sorry. My mom borrowed my shoes and didn’t remember where she’d put them. I was trying to find them and Cooper thought it was the time to blockade me from going into each room.”

  “That’s annoying.”

  “You are so lucky you don’t have to deal with siblings.” Right as she said it, she sucked in her lips. “Wow. I’m sorry. I’m a loser. You can hit me as hard as you want in the arm.” She held out her arm like I was really going to do it.

  I stared at Eric’s truck, up there on its pedestal, as she pulled down the driveway and out onto the street. In a way she was right. I didn’t have to deal with siblings. But in a way she was so very wrong. “No, it’s okay. I knew what you meant. Did you end up warning Abby and your brother about tonight?” I asked.

  “Yes. They both kind of blew it off. Abby said they have security at the museum, then added, ‘We’ve met the real Heath Hall, so we won’t be impressed.’”

  “So she thinks he won’t be able to get in?”

  “Or something. Cooper just laughed and said he remembered a few things fake Heath Hall had done in their day, then patted my head.”

  “Their day? Like two years ago?”

  “Yeah. I decided that maybe they deserve a little trouble tonight.”

  I laughed. “Speaking of trouble. I forgot to tell you what happened after practice the other night.”

  “You mean Robert showing up? I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think he’s Heath Hall?”

  “I thought about it for like a second, but no, I don’t. I don’t even think he likes Heath Hall movies.” I shook my head. “But that’s not what I meant. I was going to tell you about . . .” I stopped because Amelia had just pulled into the parking lot and I saw someone standing there in a suit. “DJ.”

  “I invited him,” Amelia said.

  “And he came?”

  Amelia wiggled her eyebrows. “Apparently, he’s not completely out of my league and doesn’t have a problem with the whole dog-years thing.”

  “He is . . . I was going to tell you about him.”

  “About DJ?”

  “Yes. This is going to be very awkward.” I hadn’t talked to him since our uncomfortable exchange outside the locker room.

  She parked and turned off the car. “Why? DJ’s great. So what happened?”

  “I’ll have to explain later,” I said because DJ opened her door. I swallowed down the hurt I still felt over what he’d said to me yesterday and I pulled my door open. I didn’t have a problem pretending things were fine. I’d had lots of practice.

  “Hey, Hadley,” DJ said with a small smile, like he was still trying to apologize. “Amelia said the whole swim team was coming tonight but you two are the first I’ve seen.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Amelia. “Doesn’t have a problem with dog years?”

  She waved her hand at me, then said to DJ, “I said the whole swim team might come tonight. I guess I was wrong.”

  Amelia bounced up and down as we walked toward the entrance. “I’m so excited for the museum tonight.”

  “I didn’t realize you had such an appreciation of art,” DJ said, clearly oblivious to what our true mission was.

  “We do,” I assured him. “Very much so.”

  “How do you say art in Spanish?” Amelia asked.

  “La arte. El artes. It all depends on how you use it in a sentence.”<
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  There were a few people waiting to get in at the entrance ahead of us. The sound of the waves crashing just beyond the building reminded me that it had been a while since I’d been to the beach.

  “If I push my way through them, will we get kicked out?” Amelia whispered.

  An older woman looked over her shoulder at us and we both stifled laughs. When we finally made it inside, we all stopped in the entrance. Huge jellyfish hung from the ceiling three stories up, their tentacles dangling nearly to our level.

  “Is it an underwater theme?” Amelia asked.

  I looked at my ticket. “It doesn’t say.”

  As we stood in the lobby, looking up at the three floors above us, I felt like I was in a fishbowl. Not just because of the circular shape of the museum and pale blue walls but because people on each floor stood at the gleaming silver railings, staring down.

  “Where should we start?” I asked.

  “Let’s find Abby. She’ll tell us if she’s seen anything interesting yet.”

  We found her on the second floor by a huge piece made of paper. She wore a cute knee-length dress and a blue blazer. She smiled when she saw us. “Well, hello. It’s my conspiracy theorists.”

  “I take it nothing out of the ordinary has happened?” Amelia asked her.

  “Not yet, but we’re just getting started,” she said. “We have time.”

  “Exactly,” Amelia answered.

  “Is there a program that shows the artists on display tonight? This is a local art show, right?” I asked.

  “It is. And yes, did you not get a program at the door?” She handed me a trifold, shiny white program. I looked through it as DJ and Amelia studied some paintings down the hall. Was Amelia losing interest in the Heath Hall investigation?

  The program was completely unhelpful. There were names next to each and every piece, none of which I recognized. I sighed. “You don’t have any pieces in the show tonight?”

  “Not this time. I’m gearing up for a summer art program I’m doing.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “It should be.”

  “Well, I’m going to look around.”

  “Yes, enjoy,” Abby said.