Sketchy Behavior (3 page)

It got confusing. And to be honest, I didn’t spend that much time thinking about it.

Kyle Barlett bumped into me right as I was walking through the door to algebra.

“Oh,” he said, like he just hit a brick wall. He started rubbing his arm like he was going to get a bruise or something now. I was not that solid — I thought he was being a little dramatic. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Sorry, Kate. Didn’t see you there.”

Then he looked at me real quick in the eyes and darted out the door.

Kyle Bartlett was in that category of “Do Not Speak of Ever.”

Actually, he was a major player in that category.

But, like the category title said, I didn’t speak of it. Ever.

M
ADDY CAUGHT ME AS I WAS DIGGING IN MY BACKPACK
for my car keys. When I turned sixteen, Mom and Dad bought themselves a car and they let me borrow it. It was a 1962 Volvo and was a puke greenish-yellow color.

Dad said it was so boys would like me for who I was rather than what I drove. Mom said she didn’t know Dad was buying that car, and she thought it would be a horrendous blow to my self-esteem.

I didn’t really mind the car as long as it started. So most of the time, I didn’t mind it. But I’d had to catch a ride home with Maddy four times in the past two months.

“So, Kate, I told Tyler that, like, if he wanted to break up with me then whatever, because there was totally someone better out there for me,” she said. She flipped her copper hair over her shoulder.

Maddy was one of those friends who sometimes intimidated you as far as looks went. She was tall, had the gorgeous hair, the perfect complexion.

Me? I broke out at least once a month, my hair was supposed to look like Reese Witherspoon’s hair in
Sweet Home Alabama
, but it flipped out all weird, unlike hers. And I was five foot one. And my hair was probably the most boring shade of brown there is.

She liked to tell me how lucky I was to be shorter than all the guys at school and how I never had to worry about running into things with my head.

Ever noticed how people who give advice about being short are never short? Sorry, but if you’ve never had to call the dorky bagging boy at Tim’s Grocery to help you with the Fritos on the top shelf, you should keep the advice to yourself.

I found my keys and looked up at Maddy. “Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

I tossed my backpack over to the passenger seat.

“So, can I come study with you this afternoon?” Maddy asked.

I looked up at her again as I started to climb into my car. This would be the third time this week.

And it was only Wednesday.

Maddy was one of those students who didn’t even need to study and could still pull straight A’s. Evidenced by her lack of studying capabilities. When she came over to study, she would spend the whole time talking, watching E!, and filing her nails.

But the house did get quiet with just me and Lolly before Mom and Dad got home, so I always said okay. “Okay,” I said. I slid into the Volvo. “See you at the house.”

“Great! Thanks, Kate!” She ran to her brand-new, jet-black Tahoe.

The differences between us just kept getting more and more glaring.

It took three tries, but the Volvo started and I drove the few minutes back to my house. Lolly was barking and turning in circles when Maddy and I walked in.

“You really need to see more human contact,” I told Lolly.

We settled on the couch. Maddy grabbed the remote and turned on the TV to E! like I knew she would.

I dumped my books and notebooks onto the coffee table.

“Want anything to drink?” I asked her.

“Is your mom still on the health kick?”

Unfortunately, yes. I nodded.

“I’ll have water then. No offense to your mom, but that green tea lemonade or whatever it was, was pretty nasty.”

I didn’t disagree with Maddy. The green tea lemonade tasted like leaves. When you swallowed, there was still this powder-coating stuff all over your tongue. Mom said it was all the vitamins from the green tea. I said it felt like my tongue had a shower cap on it.

I got us two waters and sat down on the floor, pulling my algebra book over.

“Here,” Maddy said. “I brought contraband.” It was a package of Nutter Butters and I grinned.

“Thanks!”

We sat there crunching. I was focused on reading the homework assignment. Maddy was focused on Ryan Seacrest, who was rattling off the day’s “news.”

“Michelle Moriega celebrated her birthday last night with two hundred of her best pals at one of the swankiest nightclubs in New York City …”

I tuned him out after that. I was concentrating on finding
x
.

Maddy sighed. “I wish I could have my birthday in New York City surrounded by my two hundred closest friends.”

“I don’t,” I said, scribbling down the problem in my notebook. “Two hundred closest friends implies there are more, and I think Michelle Moriega is just a lonely girl who doesn’t know how to deal with her fame. So she makes friends and parties.”

“Gosh, Kate.” Maddy rolled her eyes. “What do you want to watch instead? The news?” She flicked the remote to the local news station, KCL.

Ted Deffle, the highlighted anchor with the entirely-too-brilliantly-white teeth, was talking. “In other news, yet another victim has been claimed by the man known only as John X.” The view switched from somber Ted to a crime scene. “In Chappell today, located in Jefferson County, authorities found the body of Linda Summers, a forty-seven-year-old preschool teacher, outside of a Chappell grocery store.”

Maddy grimaced. “That’s scary. Jefferson County is just south of us.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about,” I said. There are sixty miles of woods between South Woodhaven Falls and Chappell.

“I know. Still …”

Ted continued to talk. “This is the fourth life taken by the still unnamed and unknown killer, currently called John X. Police warn to take extra caution when going in and out of public stores and to keep your doors locked at all times.”

“Are your doors locked?” Maddy asked.

I rolled my eyes. “You worry too much.” I went back to finding
x
.

Little did I know
x
would find me instead.

Another morning, another bowl of Crispix. Only that morning I was up a good thirty minutes too early, thanks to a slobbery face washing by Lolly.

I glared at her as I took my first bite.

Mom saw the look. “Oh good grief, Kate,” she said, pulling her two slices of whole wheat toast from the toaster. “Lolly loves you. Don’t fault her for that.”

Dad was halfway through his power breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a half of a grapefruit. Dad claimed power breakfasts were what made him successful. “I would just like to restate that I was completely against getting a dog in the first place,” he said.

Lolly’s head drooped.

Dad had the TV going in the background, half listening to KCL and half reading the paper. Mom was lazily thumbing through a book about boundaries or fences or something relational; I was hurriedly eating the Crispix before they got soggy.

“A case that baffled law enforcement and terrorized the public is now officially at an end,” the cheerful blonde reporter said on the TV.

All of us looked over.

“John X, the notorious killer who claimed four lives in four counties surrounding St. Louis, was apprehended today in what authorities say was a ‘miraculous link.’ The one and only witness to John X’s third murder, who wishes to remain anonymous, was able to correctly describe John X for the police.”

“Wow,” Mom said. “That’s great!”

“It’s about time.” Dad nodded.

I slurped up a few more Crispix. They were just starting to get soggy, so I needed to eat fast.

“However,” the reporter continued, “a criminal artist who works for a Missouri police department was not the one credited with John X’s arrest.”

A picture flashed up on the screen and a half-chewed, soggy Crispix fell out of my open mouth and back into my bowl with a tiny splash.

“As we showed you last night on our six-o’clock show, here is the depiction of John X. This is the sketch created by a local South Woodhaven Falls teen, our brightest new criminal sketch artist.”

There, very plainly visible in the corner under John X’s perfect square chin, was the scrawl that had been perfected over the years.

Kate Carter.

There was dead silence in my kitchen for all of about ten seconds. Then Mom started screaming, “What? What?”

Dad just looked at me. “Kate Carter. You Kate Carter or a different Kate Carter?”

It was hard to hear him over Mom’s screaming. I kept watching the TV, where the drawing I did yesterday in art class was still plastered.

“Authorities say that this drawing of John X is a near photo-quality match of the killer of four. We’re hoping to go live to South Woodhaven Falls’ very own Kate Carter’s house and get a statement from her soon. I’m Candace Olstrom, and this is KCL.”

Mom and Dad both stared at me now. The silence was back — this time it lasted a full two minutes.

“How did you know what he looked like?” Dad asked first. Logical question.

“It was a drawing assignment,” I said.

“You were assigned to draw a criminal?” Mom gasped.

“Apparently.” Detective Masterson’s appearance yesterday in art class was more than just to see Miss Yeager’s blush, I guessed.

Again, silence.

The quiet was shattered by a knock on the door and Mom whirled to look at Dad. “What if it’s John X?”

“He was caught,” I said.

“Not now, Kate.” Dad said, standing. “Claire, take Kate to the back bedroom and stay there.” He was in his protective state. Which, on most dads, was very sweet.

On my dad, it usually involves a gun.

“Dad,” I said.

He ignored me and looked at Mom. “Claire, now.”

Mom grabbed my elbow and apparently the Crispix were going to win the battle of sogginess this morning. Mom hustled me to the back bedroom, aka the Guest Room. Lolly followed us happily.

“But Dad,” I started again as we passed in the hallway.

“Hush,” Mom told me as I opened my mouth to protest further. She pushed me down into a sitting position on the bed. “You cannot be too safe. Not mentally, not emotionally, not physically.”

I opened my mouth again.

“I mean it. Not a word.”

So I sat there on the guest bed. Mom paced the floor, wringing her hands and muttering things like
art teachers
and
lawsuits
under her breath.

A couple of minutes later, Dad walked into the room, a 9mm gun holstered to his hip, escorting a pale and open-mouth-stricken Maddy. “She came to give Kate a ride,” Dad said, lightly pushing her toward the bed.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” I said.

Maddy’s eyes were the size of snow cones. “What. Is. Going. On.”

“Sit,” Mom commanded, standing from her spot on the bed. “Neither of you are going to school today.”

Maddy gaped at her and then at me. “But what about —?”

“No excuses,” Mom said, staring Maddy down. “Your personal safety is of more concern than a couple of grades.”

Maddy just stared at her. “Wait. What happened? Personal safety? Did Mr. Hannigan threaten to put you on the track team again?” She turned to me.

I opened my mouth.

Dad beat me to it. “No, Madison. Kate drew a picture of John X.”

Maddy’s eyes became snow cone sized again and turned to me. “You what?”

“And it got put on the news,” Mom said.

“It’s on the news?” Maddy’s mouth was still open.

“He got caught, there is no danger,” I said.

Dad glared at me, one hand on his 9mm. “I’ve never trusted that Candace reporter girl. Nobody’s voice is really that squeaky. Who knows if he really got arrested?”

“Dad.”

He held up a hand. “And I’m going to have more than a word with Miss Yeager or whatever her name is who made you draw a known criminal. What kind of art teacher is she? This isn’t
CSI
, these are high school juniors!”

Mom was nodding through Dad’s whole sermon. “I am going to talk to her as well. She obviously was not thinking clearly about the damaging effects to the kids’ psyches.”

“Claire, write a note. We need to contact Pete What’s-His-Face and see how we need to go about correcting the school on this.”

I sighed. I assumed Dad was talking about Peter Colligher, the attorney they met at the last Parent’s Night Out at school. Mr.

Colligher said he specialized in copyright law, so I’m not sure how he was going to help them.

The doorbell rang right as the home phone started ringing. I reached for the handset and my elbow about came out of socket when Mom whacked my hand out of the way and grabbed it herself.

“Dale?” she said, nodding to the entryway and stepping into the hallway with the phone.

“I got the door.” Dad nodded and left.

Maddy and I stayed on the bed.

She stared at me. “You drew John X?”

“Well. I didn’t mean to.”

“How did you know what he looked like?” she asked.

“Detective Masterson told us when he was making Miss Yeager blush,” I said.

Maddy’s eyes popped even more. “Miss Yeager blushed?”

I nodded.

Mom came back into the room, gripping the phone. “Channel Six wants an interview,” she said to me. “I told them by all means, absolutely not.”

Dad walked in right then too, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses, followed by a wagging Lolly. “This is from the sheriff’s office and Channel Eight has a news crew out there.”

Maddy and I were off the couch before he finished talking. We ran to the living room and peered through the cracks in the now-closed drapes.

A news van was parallel parked on the curb in front of our house. About ten people were gathered on the front lawn. Maddy’s jet-black Tahoe was in the driveway next to Dad’s pickup and my Volvo.

Another news van, with “Channel Two — The News You Can TRUST!” emblazoned on the side drove down the street.

I stepped back and stared at Mom and Dad.

Then at Maddy.

Then at Lolly.

I looked at the TV as the doorbell rang again.

On the screen, there was Candace Olstrom standing on my front porch. “I’m here at the heroic Kate Carter’s house, the girl who saved who knows how many lives and brought four victim’s souls to justice.”

And all I could do was sit down and stare at the TV as Candace continued on about how John X had been terrorizing the four surrounding counties for two months.

I
drew
John X.

I
drew John X.

On the one hand, I felt kind of proud that I helped the SWF police in one of the biggest crimes this year, but on the other hand …

I just knew it. Life was never going to be the same again.