placed a trashcan. On the ground beside thatI painted a candy wrapper, some crumpled paper and a discarded drink box. The end of the wall near the corner was the perfect spot for a big red mailbox. I even added some graffiti to it. At the other endâfor balanceâI put a fire hydrant, and just for laughs I included a dog sniffing it.
Thatâs what I was working on when I suddenly got this feeling someone was watching me. I looked around.
Mrs. Costello was standing on the boulevard behind me. I had no idea how long sheâd been thereâor even how she got there without me noticing. But she was there. And after what sheâd told Feniukâyoung people canât be trustedâit gave me the creeps to have her watching my every move.
It was like she was waiting for me to screw up. I was tempted to paint the fire hydrant purple just to freak her out.
But I didnât. Even though it would have been fun to see her have a fit, I knew I could wait a few more days for that. Soon Iâd be ready to put people into my mural, andthat was bound to stir up a few of the merchantsâincluding Mrs. Costello. I couldnât help wondering how she was going to like seeing herself on the wall. Just the thought of it made me smile.
From the corner of my eye I could see her walking along the boulevard. Every couple of feet sheâd stop and study the mural. Then sheâd move on again. When she got to the end, she turned around and retraced her steps, staring at the wall the whole way.
Once back to where sheâd started, Mrs. Costello stopped. She cleared her throat.
I kept painting.
She cleared her throat again.
I still kept painting.
âYouâre a very good artist,â she said.
I stopped painting.
My ears must have been playing tricks on me. That sounded just like a compliment, and Mrs. Costello was the last person I expected to get one of those from. There had to be a catch.
She looked up and down the wall. âWhat youâve done here is beautiful. It looks so real.â Then she turned back to me. âYou are very talented.â
I squinted up at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Her forehead buckled into a frown. âSo tell me whyâwhy, if you can paint like this,â she flung her arms toward the mural, âwhy on earth would you scribble dirty words like a five-year-old?â She shook her head. âI donât understand.â
Then she started to walk away. She didnât even wait for an answer. She just said her bit and took off. It was like I wasnât thereâlike sheâd been talking to herself.
And that made me mad. I dropped my paintbrush and jumped up.
âDo you want to?â I threw the question at her back.
She turned around.
âWhat?â
âDo you want to understand? You justsaid you didnât know why I did the graffiti. Do you want me to tell you?â
Her body shifted backwards, like she was going to run.
âLook,â I said, getting right to the point, âyou asked a question. Iâm asking you if you want an answer. Or do you even care what my reasons were?â
She had to have heard meâI was only two feet away from her. But she didnât say a word. She didnât even blink. She could have been a statue.
I shook my head. I was obviously wasting my breath.
âI didnât think so,â I muttered and went back to work.
Chapter Ten
The next day was Saturday, and because I didnât work for Feniuk on the weekend, that meant I didnât have to get up early. I could lie in bed as long as I wanted.
It was the toilet flushing that woke me. Of course, as soon as my brain registered the sound, I drifted back to sleep, and the next time I surfaced, everything was quiet again. The thing that broughtme back to consciousness permanently was the front door.
Slam! My body jerked and my eyes flew open. I squinted at the clock. It was 10:40. I had at least another good hour of