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background, and a deeper blue for the highlights. The final touch is a drop of blood hanging from one of the thorns. I can usually get the whole thing done in about ten or fifteen minutes if I’m working smoothly with no interruptions.
    I start sketching, and soon I’m lost in the rhythm of it. Some people are into music, some people play sports, but I get a thrill from the flow of my arm and the smell of the paint.
    I finish the outline and reach down to grab a brown spray can. There’s a certain skill to filling in narrow spaces—there’s no room for error, so you need to make sure you have the distance right. Too close to the surface and the paint will puddle and drip; too far and you’ll overdo it, and the paint will feather outside your edges. Either way it will look like shit. I take aim at the ground and shoot a few test blasts, then bite my lip and hit the wall. That’s when I hear a car slow down right behind me, on the other side of the fence, and the whoop sound of a siren, warning me that I’ve been spotted.
    I’m careful not to turn around, so my face stays hidden. I quickly and carefully bend down and grab my pack, and then I run. I have a good head start, because the cop car has to take two corners to get to the open edge of the schoolyard entrance. Without taking time to think, I dart to the opposite corner of the playground, tossing my backpack into a small playhouse as I move.
    By the time the cruiser makes it around the corner and pulls to a quick stop by the entrance of the playground, I’ve managed to duck behind a garbage can three driveways past the school. I catch my breath and stick my head out just far enough to see a cop jump from the car and run onto the playground. I know it will only take him a minute to realize that I’m not there, so I have to hustle.
    As soon as I move out from behind the garbage can, I’ll be exposed, so the question is which way to run. Do I take a chance on crossing the street, hoping there will be a clear path to safety? Or do I run up the driveway of this house and into the backyard instead?
    I choose the house, because it will save me a few seconds. As the cop hurries back to the cruiser, I stand up and take off for the yard, as fast as I can. I hear him yell for me to stop, and the car takes off with another whoop whoop , but I don’t look back. I just run.
    It’s a lucky break that this backyard backs onto another with no fence between them, just some hedges. I race through the two yards and make it to the sidewalk on the other side. Right away, I see the back of a little strip mall across the street. Moving quickly, I make it into the alley between two buildings. I pull off my hoodie and hat as I run, wedging them behind a Dumpster. Then I hurry around the corner and through the first door I see.
    It’s a convenience store, glaringly bright and pretty much empty. The woman behind the counter is reading a magazine and eating pizza—she doesn’t bother to look up at me. The only other person in the store is some young guy standing by a row of chips.
    I glance back into the parking lot and catch a glimpse of the cruiser as it pulls in. Shit . I smooth my hair down, take a deep breath and walk over to the chip aisle.
    The last thing I need is for the cop to recognize me, so without really thinking it through, I reach over and grab the guy by the hand just as the door jingles and the cop walks in. The guy looks at me, startled. Obviously, right? I mean, a strange girl just grabbed his hand out of nowhere.
    I look up at him. “Please just help me out here,” I whisper.
    The police officer stands in the doorway, scanning the store. He stops and talks briefly to the clerk. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but the clerk just shakes her head and goes back to her magazine. Then he walks over to where we’re standing and stops. I try to act as if I don’t notice him and reach out to