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stammers. “Oh. Huh. I guess that would make you the opposite of a mentalist.”
    â€œWhat did you say?” she asks.
    â€œI don’t know.” Poor Shahid. He’s not himself.
    â€œThat word,” she mutters. “ Mentalist . It rings a bell. Oh!” And suddenly, there she is—Rachel. She’s leaning over the wall, looking straight down at me. Beneath the violet hair and the blue mask, her mouth is smiling. “You must be Angus.” She turns to Shahid. “And you’re his friend, right? Ella told me to watch for you.”
    I’m stupefied. This makes no sense at all. I can’t speak, but that’s okay because Rachel keeps going. “She didn’t tell me you two were so…cute. And artsy.”
    â€œArtsy?” Shahid’s voice is faint.
    Rachel nods. “Definitely artsy. I’ve never seen shades like yours. They make such a large statement.”
    â€œThey do?” Now Shahid sounds really confused. “What are they saying?”
    She giggles. “You tell me.”
    â€œI can’t,” he says. I know that Shahid means this literally.
    It’s time for me to step up and save him. I try out my voice, and it works. “Ella told you about us?”
    â€œFor sure,” Rachel says. “She told me you’re a—what was the word again? A mentalist. And that you’re helping her find her sketchbook. She said you’d be checking around.”
    I can’t believe this. Ella needs more help than I thought. Tipping off the suspects is so…naïve. “Yeah, well,” I mutter. “I guess you know how important Ella’s drawings are to her.”
    â€œThey’re very important,” Rachel says. “She’s really good. Way better than me. You should see how pathetic mine are.”
    Aha. She may think by offering to show me her art, I’ll think she must not have anything to hide. But I can’t be thrown off so easily. I tell her, “I doubt your drawings are pathetic. I’d be happy to see them.”
    â€œReally? Then come on up here and I’ll show you.” She disappears from view.
    I whisper to Shahid, “Are you okay?”
    â€œNo,” he says. “No, I’m not.”
    â€œI’ll be right there,” I tell him.
    I don’t have to go far to find my way around the retaining wall. I hike up a little slope and march toward Rachel. Scattered on the ground at her feet are felt pens, spray-paint cans and a sketchbook. She picks up the sketchbook and holds it aloft as I approach. Once I’m there, she flips it open.
    â€œSee? These are my graffiti ideas.”
    The drawings are almost as bad as something I’d do. They’re nothing more than rough, blocky shapes. “Huh,” I mutter. “Graffiti ideas?”
    â€œYeah.” She points at the retaining wall. “That one is mine. The park people are letting us do our own thing around here.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œCool,” Shahid croaks. “I guess that’s why you were wondering how long I’d be standing in your way.”
    â€œYou got it. But hey, no worries. I’m glad I got to meet you two.”
    I mutter, “Likewise.”
    â€œMaybe you’ll come back sometime and see how it turns out?” she asks. She’s looking at Shahid.
    â€œYes,” Shahid answers solemnly, like he’s making a promise. “I will.”
    â€œGood. Are you guys done with the wall?”
    We nod.
    â€œThen I’m going for it.” With a grand gesture, she tosses back her green cape.
    Shahid and I mutter, “Good luck.”
    We’re almost home when Shahid says, “Her legs were painted orange.” His tone is one of wonder.

Chapter Ten
    Usually, the minute my heads hits the pillow, I fall asleep. Not tonight. No, I lie awake thinking about Shahid telling me that I must admit to Ella that I’m not a mentalist. I can’t read