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look at their work they would say, ‘Go a-way,’ just like that guy did? Huh?”
    She looked up and stared at a corner of the ceiling—sometimes she does that when she’s thinking—but this time she sat that way for what seemed like a long time.
    â€œEarth to Lucas, Earth to Lucas,” I said at last.
    She turned back to me. “I was just trying to think of what that man in Minneapolis would look like if I drew him with dark, slicked-back hair and a beard. You’re right, it is the same guy,” she said.
    I thought I’d stopped being surprised by Lucas’s photographic memory, but it seemed incredible that even after more than a year, she could just think back about the man we’d called Gallery Guy and remember what he looked like so perfectly that she could have drawn him. I was also totally glad I wasn’t the only one thinking there was a connection between the men we’d seen in the two museums.
    I didn’t want to show her how impressed I was, or how much it meant to me to have her agree with me. So I just said, “See, I knew it was the same guy!” Then I added, “I wonder . . .”
    â€œWhat he’s doing that makes him think he has to wear a disguise?” Lucas finished for me.
    â€œUh-huh.”
    Now we were both quiet for a minute. “What are you thinking?” I asked finally. She had an expression I’d seen before.
    â€œOh, nothing.”
    â€œNothing my meep. When you get that look, it usually means you’re making some plan that’s going to get us in trouble.”
    â€œNo, no, nothing like that,” she said, trying to sound all innocent.
    But I was right. She was planning something. In fact, that afternoon in the National Gallery was the beginning of something that would get us into more trouble—and put the whole Gleesome Threesome in more danger—than we’d ever been in before.

10
    Keeping the Truth from Mom
    I looked at my watch. “It’s almost five thirty already. Mom’s going to be here in a minute.”
    We got up from where we were sitting and headed for the front steps, where we were supposed to meet her.
    I was still worried about what Lucas was thinking. I figured it had to do with Gallery Guy, and I had a really bad feeling about him. “I want to stay away from that man,” I said as we walked into the next room. “He might recognize us.”
    â€œFrom the Art Institute?”
    I nodded.
    â€œAre you nuts? He must chase away kids who are trying to look at his canvas all the time. How could he remember all of them? Besides, think about how different we look now than we did then.”
    She was right that we’d changed a lot. In the last year both of us had gotten our braces off, Lucas had grown about two inches, and we’d both gotten—well, not big boobs exactly, but a more womanly shape, as they say. I’d cut my hair to just below shoulder length, and I’d stopped wearing glasses and started wearing contacts.
    â€œBut you remembered his face well enough to know it was the same guy even with his disguise. What if he has a photographic memory, too?”
    â€œNot many people do. Probably not more than one in a thousand. And besides, what if he did recognize us? It’s not like seeing him in both places is against the law or anything.”
    â€œI’m not so sure about him needing a photographic memory to remember us. My dad doesn’t have a photographic memory, but he’s painted enough portraits that he has a good memory for faces. Besides, there’s something about that guy that just creeps me out. He’s mean.”
    â€œYou’re right. Even I can tell that.” Lucas may be smarter than I am, but I have a lot more intuition than she does, and a lot of the time I feel things that she doesn’t. If she felt something was wrong about Gallery Guy, I knew he must be sending off some scary vibes.
    When we got