Sasquatch in the Paint (18 page)

Gavin ignored her question and said, “Then why are so many Muslims violent? They got a jihad against us.”

“A jihad is when someone struggles to have good conquer evil. When you find a lost wallet with a hundred bucks in it, you struggle over whether to keep the money or return it. That's jihad. All the violence is a few evil people using religion to get other stuff they want. The rest of us are just trying to figure out how to do the right thing.”

Gavin didn't say anything.

“Look,” Rain said, “I'm not hoping for a G-rated ending here where everybody holds hands and sings about world peace.”

“Then what are you hoping for?” Gavin said.

“Kindness,” Rain said. “Isn't that what you would hope for if you were a minority?”

“Very funny,” Gavin said, grabbing one of the bicycles. “Stay here if you want, Theo. I have better things to do,” he said, and then rode off.

Theo watched Gavin leave. But he was thinking about something else. He was thinking about all the kids he knew who had broken families like his. Not unhappy, just broken, like a chunk had been torn away. A dead mother. A runaway father. A mother in Africa. Parents in Iraq. Not like the ideal families you see in a lot of TV shows. Most just trying to do the best they could. Like Rain said, people just want to do the right thing. And parents, especially, want to do the right thing for their children.

“Theo?” Rain said after a while. “You okay?”

“Huh?” Theo refocused on her and smiled broadly. “I think I just figured out who the thief is.”

“Who?” Rain said excitedly.

Theo quickly climbed onto his bike. “Tomorrow,” he said as he started pedaling away.

“HOLY
crap!” Theo's dad said as he entered the kitchen. He looked as surprised as Theo had ever seen him before.

It was Thursday morning. Tomorrow might be Black Friday, the day that ended Theo's run on the Brain Train and the basketball team, but today was going to be his. Today he would reveal the thief who stole Gavin's song and sold it to Wild World. At least he would have this one victory to call his own.

“What's going on here, Theo?” his father asked, more stunned than angry.

“What do you mean?” Theo said innocently as he poured more pancake batter into the black skillet. “I'm just making breakfast.”

“For how
many
?”

What Marcus meant was: Theo already had several plates stacked high with pancakes, a huge bowl brimming over with scrambled eggs, a serving plate piled three inches high with fried bacon, and a large pile of paper plates, plastic forks, plastic cups, and napkins on the kitchen table. Three pitchers of orange juice stood next to the plastic cups.

“Seriously, Theo,” Marcus said with some concern, “are you okay? Are you having headaches or thoughts of hurting yourself? You're not experimenting on neighborhood pets, are you?”

“Define ‘experimenting,'” Theo said.

Marcus just stared.

Theo laughed. “I'm fine, Dad. Everything's under control. Sit down and help yourself.”

Marcus sat at the table, took a paper plate, and scooped out some scrambled eggs. The whole time he stared at Theo as if this was a horror film and he expected his son to suddenly skitter up the wall like an insect.

“I've been thinking, Dad,” Theo said, flipping a pancake in the skillet. “You should go out on a date. Like with a girl.”

Marcus paused in midbite. “Is that what this superbreakfast is about?”

“No. I'll explain that in a moment.” Theo pointed his spatula at Marcus. “It's time someone else had to put up with you. I can't be expected to laugh at your lame jokes all by myself. That's child cruelty.”

“Oh, really? And what brought on this new Cupid attitude?”

Theo took a deep breath. It was time to tell the truth. Sort of. “I know about your online dating, Dad.”

Marcus laid his fork down on the table. Theo could see the cop part of his dad figuring everything out: Theo sneaking into his computer, cracking the password, reading his personal file. But the dad part of him chose not to mention it right now. Theo really appreciated the dad part.

“I don't know,” Marcus said quietly. He looked guilty, like an art thief with a long rap sheet who'd been caught with the blueprints to a museum. “Seems like it would complicate things. Our life.”

Theo considered that. Their life together was pretty good. But then he thought about what his dad did after Theo went to bed. Did he watch the same TV shows he used to watch with Mom? Did he laugh at something funny and turn to see if she was laughing, too, only to be reminded that he was alone? How long should he have to live that way?

“You know what I think?” Theo asked. “I think our lives get complicated all on their own, without any help from us. So, if we have a chance to complicate it in some way that we want, I say we should go for it. As someone told me recently, you have to make the effort, take the risk.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. His dad reached for a pancake and said, “It's one thing to grow tall, it's another to grow up. I think you've managed both pretty nicely.”

The doorbell rang.

As Theo hurried off to answer it, he muttered under his breath, “I hope you still feel that way after breakfast.”

Theo returned to the kitchen with Miranda Sanjume behind him. She was dressed in a dark blue, pin-striped pants suit. She looked very professional.

Marcus jumped to his feet. “Miranda? What are you doing here?”

Miranda looked surprised. “Didn't you send me a text message asking me to come right over?”

“That was me,” Theo said. “I used his phone.”

“Theo!” his dad snapped. “What are you—”

The doorbell rang again.

“Hold that murderous thought,” Theo said, rushing off to answer the door.

When he returned, the basketball team was with him.

“Not much seating, guys,” Theo said, “so you'll have to stand while you eat. Go ahead, dig in.”

“Hey, Mr. Rollins,” Chris Richards said. The rest of the team followed with greetings, which Marcus returned.

“Where's Coach?” Roger demanded, looking around. “And why did he want to have a team meeting here?”

“He didn't,” Theo explained cheerfully. “I sent those texts and e-mails. It's not that hard to create a ghost account that mimics someone else.”

“Not very hard,” Miranda said, “but very illegal.”

“You're an attorney, right?” Theo asked.

Miranda turned to Theo's dad. “Marcus, what's this about?”

“Wait a minute!” Roger said. “So Coach didn't call this meeting?”

“Correct,” Theo said.

Roger looked around for the rest of the team to join his outrage, but they were busy grabbing food.

The doorbell rang.

“For the love of…” Marcus said, exasperated. “Theo, what is going on here?”

“Soon, Dad,” Theo said, running off.

When he returned, he had the Brain Train with him: Brian, Tunes, Daryl, and even Brooke.

“What are they doing here?” Brian asked, looking at the basketball team.

Brooke snorted. “Better question is, what are
we
doing here?”

“I thought Mr. J called a meeting here,” Daryl said in confusion.

“Obviously, Theo faked it,” Brooke said. She smirked at Theo. “Which means when Mr. J finds out, he'll kick you off the team for sure.”

“We'll see,” Theo said.

“Theo!” Marcus growled. “Answers! Now!”

Doorbell.

“Manners first, Dad.” Theo exited and returned with Rain.

“Rain,” Theo said, “this is my dad. And that's Miranda Sanjume, attorney-at-law.”

“Hi,” Rain said. To Theo: “What are you up to? Your lawn looks like a bicycle shop.”

The kitchen was packed to the point of people bumping shoulders as they heaped food onto their plates.

“Hey, hey! Save some for me!” Gavin hollered as he strolled into the kitchen.

“Gavin?” Marcus said. “Where did you come from?”

“Theo's room,” Gavin said with a yawn. “He hid me there last night.”

Marcus jumped to his feet. “Does your grandmother know where you are?”

Gavin pointed to Theo. “This is his show, Uncle Marcus. He's the man with the plan.”

Theo patted his dad's shoulder as he slipped by. “All taken care of, Dad. She knows he's here with us.”

“But
why
is he here with us?” Marcus asked. “In fact, why are all these other people here with us? Why did you turn our home into a cafeteria?”

Tom Farley, the team's best free throw shooter, spoke around a mouth full of pancake. “I can't be late for school, dude.”

“‘Denouement'!” Brian said excitedly. “Right, Theo?”

“Denoue-what?” Roger said.

“Denouement,” Brian repeated. “It's the part at the end of a mystery when the detective reveals the killer.” To Rain: “It was one of the words we had to define at last year's Aca-lympics.”

Everyone fell silent and stared at Theo. Even his dad.

Theo said, “Yes, that's why we're here. I invited everyone who's suspected of stealing Gavin's song ‘Wolfheart,' and then secretly selling it to Wild World.”

“That's your song?” Weston Zheng said. “I saw the video. It's cool.”

Gavin didn't say anything, but Theo could tell he was pleased.

“Wait,” Roger said. “I was a suspect?”

“Me, too?” Sinjin James protested.

Theo held up his hands as if quieting a crowd. “The point is, I figured out who the real thief is.”

“Who?” Brian asked.

“Who cares?” Brooke said with a bored roll of the eyes. “I'm leaving.”

“It's Brooke, right?” Tunes said. “The killer always tries to leave first.”

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” Brooke said. “Just finish this up already.” She stood, arms crossed, glaring at Theo.

“It had to be someone with access to the CD,” Theo said. “Which is everyone in this room. I had it at the Brain Train practice and at basketball practice. The two most likely places for it to be stolen.”

Marcus interrupted, “Theo, maybe this isn't the best time for this.”

“No, Dad,” Theo said. “It's the perfect time. They want to know what happened, right?”

Most muttered agreement. Others just kept stuffing pancakes into their mouths.

“The other thing the thief needed was access,” Theo said. “Access to the music industry so they could make this deal happen abnormally fast.”

Everyone started to look at one another suspiciously, trying to figure out by the way they chewed bacon or drank orange juice which one had connections to the music industry.

“Tunes plays piano concerts,” Roger accused. “He must know people.”

Gavin pushed through the others to confront Tunes. “You little—”

“It wasn't me!” Tunes said in a panic. “I don't know anybody. My piano teacher arranges my concerts. I just show up and play.”

“It's not Tunes,” Theo said. Then he looked straight at his dad. “Right, Dad?”

All eyes swiveled onto Marcus.

He sighed.

Gavin's mouth dropped open. “Uncle Marcus?”

“He didn't do it alone.” Theo nodded at Miranda. “I saw your profile on the dating site. Those photos of you with front-row seats at all those rock concerts.”

“Theo!” Marcus said.

“You can punish me later for using your computer, Dad. Right now this is about the truth. The truth is, you contacted Miranda, not to date her, but because she's an entertainment attorney, specializing in the music industry.”

Gavin's face was red with anger. “You stole my song and sold it?”

Theo hurriedly continued: “He didn't steal it, Gavin. Not really. I was thinking about something Rain said yesterday about people wanting to do the right thing. And that made me think about all the kids from homes with divorced or dead or absentee parents.”

A few of the kids in the kitchen nodded in recognition. Even Gavin.

“And I was thinking about how those parents all still try to do the right thing by their kids. And how hard it is to know what the right thing is sometimes. But you've still got to make the effort. Take the risk that it is the right thing.”

Rain smiled at him. “Copycat.”

Gavin jumped in angrily. “How is stealing my song the ‘right thing'?”

Theo's father stood up. “I didn't steal it, Gavin,” he said. “After listening to it, I realized just how really talented you are. I Skyped your mom in Africa and told her that we should do something with it. Something to get you past your fear of sharing your work.”

Gavin started to protest, but stopped. It was true, after all.

“She agreed. But I didn't know what to do. I remembered seeing Miranda's profile, saw the photos, and reached the same conclusion Theo did.”

“You could have just looked entertainment attorneys up online,” Brooke said.

Marcus grinned. “Okay, maybe the song wasn't my only reason to call her.”

Miranda grinned, too.

Brooke made a gagging sound. “Ewwww.”

“Anyway,” Marcus continued, “Miranda knew Wild World's attorney—”

“Karen Moonsilver,” Miranda said. “She went to law school with my dad. I e-mailed the song to her, she e-mailed it to Wild World's agent, and he gave it Wild World. They loved it, drew up a contract—”

“Which I didn't sign,” Gavin said.

“But your mother did, electronically. You're a minor, so your signature isn't really required here. All the money we got for the song and any future royalties will be deposited in a bank account in your name.”

“How much did you get?” Gavin asked.

Everyone grew quiet, waiting to hear the amount.

Miranda smiled, leaned into Gavin's ear, and whispered.

Gavin's eyes widened.
“What?”
he asked, as if he didn't think he'd heard it right.

She whispered again.

Gavin looked up at his uncle. “Whoa.”

Marcus added, “We couldn't tell you earlier because the bonus clause in your contract doesn't kick in until the video has reached half a million views. Which it already has, and then some.”

“Bonus clause?” Gavin said.

“Means you get more money,” Miranda said.

“And you will have complete control over all your other songs,” Marcus said. “This was a onetime deal. Just a little kick start. After this, it's up to you and your mom to make all the decisions.”

Chris Richards looked at his watch. “Well, this has been interesting, but now it's time for me to get going. Congratulations, Gavin,” he said sincerely, and left. The rest of the team followed. Several also congratulated Gavin. Roger and Sinjin didn't.