by Kasie West
I found Amelia and DJ on opposite sides of a large fish statue. Their heads were angled to the side. “What are you guys doing?”
“It says to find the hidden shapes in its scales,” DJ said.
I stared at the fish for a moment, then found myself tilting my head. Maybe I didn’t appreciate art because I didn’t get it at all. I rolled the program in my hands and turned a circle. That’s when I saw Brady across the way heading up some stairs. I elbowed Amelia’s side and nodded toward him.
“You think he knows where this thing is going down tonight?” she whispered.
“I think that’s our best bet.” Our only bet at this point. DJ wandered a bit, leaving us by the fish. “And, seriously, DJ is kind of cramping our style. How are we supposed to investigate with him here?”
“I hadn’t thought about that before now.”
“Obviously.”
“His cuteness blinded me to logistics. Let’s send him on an impossible quest.”
“Like what?”
“Leave it to me.” She approached DJ. “I heard there was this art piece here tonight that I’m dying to see. I don’t remember the artist’s name but it’s of a boy looking at the ocean. We’re going to check the third floor. Will you look around this one?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, we’ll meet up again in a little bit.”
He walked away and we went for the stairs. By the time we reached them, Brady was gone but someone else was climbing them.
“Isn’t that Dylan Sutter?” Amelia asked as we headed up.
“Is it?” I shuffled us sideways so we could get a better look. Dylan was using the handrail and walking slowly up each step, almost as if he had to make the decision to continue up for each and every stair he took. “It totally is. Do you think he’s . . . ?”
From behind us a voice said, “Hadley Moore. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. And without your earphones.”
We turned to see Jackson Holt.
Ten
“Maybe Jackson is Heath,” Amelia whispered.
I considered that thought for a moment. It wouldn’t surprise me. “Jackson? What are you doing here?”
“I think I’m here for the same reason you are.”
“Heath Hall?”
He nodded, which meant he wasn’t Heath Hall . . . right? He held his elbows out, one for each of us. “Shall we?”
Amelia immediately let go of me and latched onto him. I kept my hands to myself but walked next to him as we all continued up the stairs.
“I’m Amelia, by the way,” she said.
“Oh, right.” I realized it was my job to introduce them. I’d thought they knew each other. “Jackson, Amelia. Amelia, Jackson.”
“We’ve met at school before, right?” he said.
“I’ve seen you around,” she said. “Last time was in the lake behind Sarah’s house, challenging my best friend to a competition you knew she couldn’t refuse.”
“Did I win that competition?” he asked with a half smile. “I don’t remember.”
I grunted.
Three flights of stairs in heels wasn’t easy, and Jackson’s company wasn’t helping. I would find the elevator for the way down for sure.
When we finally made it upstairs, everyone was filing into a room called the Diamond Room. Jackson went in ahead of us. I grabbed hold of Amelia’s arm so she wouldn’t join up with him again, and we stepped inside. At the far end of the room several people were moving a giant painting into place as though they’d just brought it in. It wasn’t labeled like the others in the museum had been but it was amazing. Reds and blues and purples created an abstract ocean. Tossed in the waves was a ship that was falling apart, wooden pieces strewn in the water around it. Goose bumps appeared along my arms. Now that was art.
“Is that painting his?” Amelia asked. “Heath Hall’s?”
“Fake Heath Hall,” I said under my breath. “You think that painting has something to do with his post?”
“I don’t know but are all these people here to support him?”
“What?” I looked around the room and realized it was full of people from our school. “I guess they saw his post just like we did.”
“True.”
“Split up?” I asked. I recognized so many people from the list we’d made and now they were all here in the same place. This would save me so much time.
She nodded, and we headed in opposite directions.
I wasn’t sure who to talk to first. Was one of these people about to whip out a mask and run around the museum? Or were they really all here just because they’d seen the post like we had?
I saw Brady again, and even though I’d already talked to him at school, he had confessed to knowing something. Maybe he’d be more likely to share if he thought I was in the know now. I joined him. “He should be here any minute,” I said.
“Yep,” Brady answered back. He was staring at the large canvas that leaned against the far wall, its movers gone. “I don’t believe he was worried about this,” Brady mumbled. “Misuse.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Just when I was about to move on to talk to someone else, the lights went out. Then a single spotlight from someone’s phone lit up the large painting. Another phone shined on a guy dressed in a tux making his way through the crowd. I couldn’t see where Amelia had gone or if she had been anywhere near where this guy materialized. He walked until he stood in front of the large painting, back to us. So here he was, the guy who’d ruined my race.
“I think that’s Brad McCall,” I heard someone whisper behind me.
“Maybe but I heard Heath was Leo Morales.”
Both those names were on our list.
Up front, Heath Hall stared at the painting for a long time. Someone to my right gave a supportive holler and then several others joined in. Soon the room began to clap and cheer. At last, the guy in front of the painting turned around and bowed. He was wearing the mask.
His posture was slouched, his hands in the pockets of his tux. When he spoke, his voice was muffled, like he was distorting it on purpose. I had to strain to hear because it was also quiet.
“Thanks everyone for the support. Showing my work has been a fear of mine for a long time. And the reactions I’ve gotten from you all on my piece tonight mean a lot to me.” He lifted his hand in a wave and then stepped away from the painting.
“That’s it?” I asked no one in particular.
“Yep,” Brady answered. “That’s it. Until next time.”
I couldn’t wait that long. My eyes hadn’t left him since he stepped away from that painting. My vision had adjusted somewhat to the dark and I watched him head for a back exit. I slid off my shoes, gripping the straps in my hand and ran after him.
The door closed just as I reached it and I pushed my way through. We were now in a back hallway, some sort of service area, nobody but the two of us. This was probably how he’d brought the unsanctioned painting into the museum. Heath was at the end of the corridor, about to round the corner. “Wait,” I said.
He stopped. “You’re not supposed to follow me.”
“Who are you?”
He turned but looked ready to bolt, so I stayed where I was, not wanting to spook him. His hands were shaking so much that I could see them moving even though forty feet separated us. I took him in from head to toe, trying to find some sort of clue. But his tux was generic and his shoes, standard dress shoes. He was even wearing gloves.
I took a slow step forward. “I liked your painting. It was amazing.”
“Thank you.” He glanced to the side, his escape route.
“I won’t tell anyone who you are. I’ll keep it to myself.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“How what works?” I pointed back toward the door we had both come through. “They know who you are. How come I can’t?”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“If you can’t tel
l me who you are, at least promise me this.”
He gave a small nod.
“Please stay away from the swim meets from now on.”
He gave another nod, bigger this time, then he took off. I ran after him but by the time I rounded the corner he was gone. The hallway split into two and there was no trace of him. I clenched my fists in frustration, a jolt of pain radiating through my shoulder as I did. I cringed and massaged it away. Not bothering to put my shoes back on, I made my way back to Amelia.
She was typing furiously into her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Recording who was here before I forget. There were so many people. I swear it was nearly my entire list. This is really going to help us narrow it down.”
“Did you happen to see Brad McCall or Leo Morales?” I asked, remembering the names that had been whispered behind me earlier.
“Yes, actually.” She showed me her phone. “Already on my list. Why?”
I gave a frustrated sigh. “Nothing.”
“Where’d you disappear to?”
“I went after him.”
She stopped typing and looked up. “Did you catch him?”
“Sort of, but that stupid mask made it impossible to tell who he was.”
“That stupid mask was pretty awesome. I haven’t seen it in person before, only online. How do you even get a mask that realistic? That would cost a serious amount of money.”
I had forgotten she hadn’t seen the mask at the pool. “So our Heath Hall is rich?”
“Wouldn’t it be funny if it was Grant James wearing a Heath Hall mask?”
“It’s not.”
She shoved her phone into her purse. “I know. I said, ‘Wouldn’t it be funny?’ Work with me here.”
I smiled. “Yes, it would be funny.”
“Thank you.” She widened her eyes. “So what happened?”
“He ran off. I have no idea who he is. He was as skittish as a baby rabbit, though.”
“That’s a clue. Maybe one that will help us.”
I sighed. “I accomplished my mission. I told him to stay away from the pool. I don’t really need to know who he is anymore.” This was becoming more trouble than it was worth.
“And you think he’ll listen.”
“I think you were right anyway,” I said, gesturing to the art around us. “I don’t think he likes to do repeat appearances.”
Two security guards talking into walkie-talkies rushed by us, toward the painting.
“They’re a little late,” Amelia said.
“We should probably go find DJ and rescue him from the cruel mission you sent him on,” I said.
“Yes. We should’ve just told DJ about the Heath Hall thing. After seeing so many people from school up here, he probably wouldn’t have found it weird.”
“Probably not.”
It took us searching every floor before we found DJ on the first. His tie was loosened, his collar beneath it unbuttoned, as if he was done being dressed up for the night. When he saw us, he smiled. “Still haven’t found it. Did you have better luck?”
“We had no luck,” I said.
“I found something else I want to show you.” Amelia took his hand. As she pulled him away, she looked back at me and mouthed, Do you mind?
I shook my head no. Amelia had been crushing on DJ forever. And it seemed like she was actually making a tiny bit of progress. I wasn’t going to get in the way of that. I stared after them for a while. A strip of white hung down below the back of his suit jacket and it took me a moment to realize it was his shirt. It must’ve come untucked. DJ was a mess. Cute but a mess. I turned and went to look at some art. I was at a museum, after all.
Eleven
“I don’t believe Coach isn’t letting you swim all four races today. I thought that’s what the paper you caught DJ with was implying.”
The cold metal bench beneath my legs made me shiver. “Amelia. Are you trying to get in my head right before we swim?”
“Sorry. Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
But it wasn’t her. I was already in my head. Coach didn’t want me to swim all four races and I couldn’t stop thinking about how DJ said my persistence was frustrating. How Coach probably felt the same way. He didn’t even want me to stay late at practices anymore. He’d never said anything when I’d stayed late before.
Up in the stands my dad called my name. He stood and waved when I looked. I waved back and noted my mom next to him talking on the phone. I really should’ve worn my headphones right up until I had to swim. Michael Phelps used to do that at the Olympics to stay in the zone or get pumped up or something. If he’d done it, it couldn’t have been a crutch like Coach implied. I took a deep breath of chlorine-filled air, then stood. I jumped up and down a few times, then stretched out my shoulders. “Here we go,” I said when the announcer called out our race.
Coach was beaming when he stood in front of us after the meet. “I’m so proud of all of you. We had an amazing meet today. Next Saturday is the finals. You are to stay all day to support the whole team no matter when you swim. After that, as your coach I require one more commitment from each of you. In two weeks there’s the awards banquet. I expect you all there. I don’t want to hear about other plans. This will be your one and only if you expect to swim on my team next year. This is as important to me as any meet has been the whole season. Understood?”
“Understood,” we all echoed back to him.
“Okay. Go enjoy your Friday.”
The other swimmers filed away. Amelia left too, knowing my habits. This would normally be the time, after performing so well in my races, where I would pester the coach about letting me swim more. Even though I was sure he wouldn’t let me swim the butterfly for the final meet of the season, I still had my senior year ahead of me. I wanted all four races next year. But over the coach’s shoulder I saw DJ, and between the two of them, and my throbbing shoulders, I couldn’t do it. Coach obviously didn’t want it to happen. I spun around and left.
Amelia, who hadn’t made it far, tilted her head.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s nice that Heath Hall didn’t show up today. Turns out you’re intimidating, after all.”
“I guess so.” My dad stood off to the side, waiting for me. “I’m riding home with my parents. See you tonight.”
She gave me a side hug. “Don’t give up on the four races.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is that you’re amazing.”
“Until I can shave off more time, I’m going to stop asking.”
My dad opened his arms when I joined him.
“You don’t want a hug. I’m wet.”
He pulled me into one anyway. “I always want a hug. You swam great today.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Mom said to tell you, ‘Good job.’”
I wondered if she had seen me swim at all. Every time I had looked up, she was on her phone. My eyes went to the gate and to the parking lot beyond it, wondering if she was still on the phone now. I rubbed at my aching shoulders. “Where is she?”
“She had to run off to her first five K meeting today with the new staff for the next race.”
“Sounds official.”
“Sounds boring. So to celebrate me getting to stay, should we get Froyo?”
“Dad, don’t call it that.”
“Isn’t that what all the kids are calling it?”
“No.”
“Do you need to change before we go?”
“Let me just grab my sweats, and if you’re not embarrassed to be seen with a swim rat, then I can go like this.”
“I am not embarrassed to be seen with my talented daughter.”
Between my coach and my mom, it felt like my dad was the only one who thought that. “I’ll be right back.” I went to my locker, pulled on my sweats, then shoved my wet towel in my duffel and slung the strap over my shoulder. When I got back outside, Jackson was
standing next to my dad, talking to him like they were old friends. I slowed my hurried pace. As far as I knew, they’d never met before. Did Jackson even know it was my dad he was speaking to? Had Jackson been here the whole time?
“Moore,” Jackson said when I reached them. “That was some excellent swimming. Not as good as my swim but a close second.”
“You’re a swimmer as well?” my dad asked.
“No, he’s not,” I answered before Jackson could.
He answered anyway, with a mocking tone. “I’m a bit of a novice. I came today to watch the experts and pick up a few pointers.”
My dad, not realizing that everything that came out of Jackson’s mouth was a joke, said, “That’s nice. I’m sure Hadley will give you some pointers. We’re going to get some Froyo right now. You should join us.”
“Dad—” I started to scold when Jackson interrupted me with, “I’d love to.”
I shot him a look that clearly said, Stop being terrible and go away, but it didn’t faze him.
“Moore enjoys my company. She just told me the other day that she thought I was the funniest person she knew.”
“Is that so?” my dad asked.
“He’s actually the funniest person he knows.”
“That too,” Jackson said with a smile. “I’ll meet you over there. The one on Coral Road?”
My dad nodded, and Jackson was gone.
“Dad, please don’t invite people out with us before asking me.”
“He was so pleasant and funny. I thought for sure you two must be friends.”
We weren’t friends. At all. He was annoying. My dad would soon find that out.
Only my dad wasn’t finding out anything. Twenty minutes later and he was egging Jackson on—laughing at all his jokes, asking him questions to expand on his stories. My sugar-free yogurt wasn’t distracting me well enough. Maybe I should’ve caved and gotten a few toppings.
“So then did he give you back your phone?” my dad asked after Jackson told him all about having his phone stolen at McDonald’s, then calling it and having an hour-long conversation with the thief.
“No. Do you believe that? At the end of the conversation the guy said, ‘I just arrived at the confessional. Great talking to you, man.’ Then he hung up.”
