Drew lay in bed staring at the ceiling. His alarm wouldn’t ring for 18 minutes, but he was wide awake.
How could Tommy steal from Mr. Melia? he kept asking himself.
He hadn’t been able to shake the images out of his head all weekend. Tommy deftly sliding the candy from the counter into his book bag. The cocky smile on his face while Mr. Melia rang him up. The threatening glare in his eyes when he warned Drew not to tell on him.
When Drew went back into Melia’s, he hadn’t been sure what he would do. And he still wasn’t sure if leaving the money was right, or if he should’ve told Mr. Melia what happened. Was telling on a friend okay after promising not to? Either way, he thought, maybe Tommy isn’t who I thought he was.
He rolled over and turned off his alarm before it rang. He went to his desk, where his science book lay open to page 139. After flipping to the front cover and reviewing the names, he opened his desk drawer, grabbed his wallet, and removed his handwritten list. He studied both lists, side by side, to see if somehow he had missed something.
He never imagined that playing detective would be so hard. He was nearly nine months into his search, and time was running out. There was only one week of school left, and it would be much harder to find the Mystery Artist once summer break began. I will figure this out, he said to himself. I have to.
Three names were crossed off: Jason Porter, Alexus Ballentine, and Skylar Jansen. Two names remained: Stacey Janofsky and Mike “Huddy” Hudock. Which of these two was the more preferable candidate? Huddy, the meanest and scariest kid Drew had ever met, or Stacey, the girl who had disappeared?
Part of Drew hoped it was Stacey. At least then he could hold on to the hope that the Mystery Artist was a nice kid who actually cared about what she drew in that book. It was a long shot, though. From what Alexus had told him, Stacey was similar to Abigail – the best student in her grade. Drew couldn’t see someone like that drawing instead of paying attention during class (especially Mrs. Steinbeck’s class).
But Drew knew Huddy was an artist. And even though he preferred a different kind of art, maybe when he was in fifth grade he wasn’t such a tough guy. Maybe back then he liked to draw ocean scenes instead of motorcycles and skeletons.
What if Huddy isn’t who he seemed to be? Drew wondered. Sort of like Tommy – maybe nobody’s who they seem.
He slid the notecard back into his wallet. He began the day as usual, showering, packing his book bag, and eating breakfast. However, while his morning routine was standard, he vowed to do something much different by the end of the day: confront Huddy.
When he got to school, he walked down the corridor along the cafeteria and slipped through the double doors into the middle school. The hallways were different from the elementary school. Everything seemed less colorful, and the lockers were taller and thinner. Drew tried to act casual as he made his way through the unfamiliar halls, but nobody noticed him anyway – or if they did, they pretended not to. The kids seemed so big and business-like compared to the elementary kids. This will be me in a few months? Drew thought. What if I don’t know how to be a middle-schooler?
He suddenly felt nervous. He checked his watch and realized he had to be back for homeroom in five minutes. Figuring he could give it another shot right after school, he turned and made his way back. But just before he reached the double doors, a familiar voice caught his ear. He turned and saw Huddy about 15 feet away, standing next to a smaller boy holding a stack of books. Huddy seemed to be smiling in a friendly way. Drew inched closer and craned his neck to see around a pair of girls who were blocking his view. Huddy patted the boy on the back with his right hand and reached his left hand in the air for a high-five. The way Huddy was smiling, he actually seemed approachable. Drew took another step toward him. But Huddy’s arm came down swiftly and smacked the books out of the boy’s hands.
“Have fun picking up your books, nerd,” laughed the potential Mystery Artist.
Drew’s courage plummeted faster than the books. He backpedaled, turned and rushed through the double doors, and bolted back to the elementary school. Each step made him feel farther away from finding the Mystery Artist.
****
Jeff was waiting for Drew at his locker. “You do the math homework?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t,” said Tommy, standing with Caleb a few lockers away. “But who cares? We only got one week of school left.”
“Yeah,” said Caleb. “After that it’s …” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “summer BREEAAK!”
Tommy’s face lit up with excitement.
“Sum-mer break! Sum-mer break!” Caleb chanted.
Tommy immediately joined him, and the two of them went clamoring down the hall.
Drew shook his head. He had hoped Tommy would be remorseful after stealing from Mr. Melia. Instead, he was acting like it never even happened. Drew felt an awkward tension around Tommy, and he could tell that Jeff did too, but Tommy didn’t seem to feel it. With each passing interaction, Drew was realizing that the old Tommy might be gone forever.
Throughout the day, while each teacher stressed the importance of doing well on the final tests, Drew tried to figure out if Huddy was definitely the Mystery Artist. He knew for sure it wasn’t Skylar, Alexus, or Jason, because he had asked each of them directly. Skylar was the only one who even recognized the picture.
At least she remembered it, Drew thought. Wait, if Skylar remembered the picture but Alexus didn’t, that’s probably because the picture hadn’t been drawn yet when Alexus had the book! It couldn’t be Stacey Janofsky, because then Alexus would have remembered the picture. It had to be drawn after Alexus had the book. And only Skylar and Huddy had the book after Alexus, so it has to be Huddy.
Drew was torn about his discovery. Now that he knew it was Huddy, he didn’t know what to do. What could he do? Originally, he wanted to thank the person who drew the picture, and talk to them about what it meant – after all, if anyone could explain the power of the picture, it was the artist himself. But could Drew really ask Huddy, especially after what he had seen that morning?
****
At lunch, the boys discussed scheduling plans for sixth grade.
“What are you guys gonna do for next year? Everyone’s gonna take study hall, right?” Tommy asked.
“Wait, we get to pick?” said Trevor.
“Yeah,” said Tommy, “in sixth grade you pick if you wanna take study hall or music or art. It’s a pretty easy choice.”
“Well, I dunno,” said Drew.
“Not this again,” Tommy scoffed. “Our classes are so much more tougher next year, and they’re gonna give us more homework. Plus there’s no recess. The least they can do is give us a free period.”
“Well, it’s actually study hall,” said Jeff.
“Not really,” said Tommy. “My brother says that either a substitute or the librarian is the person there. And they don’t really care if you study. Some of the subs don’t even care if you play on your phone. So all you gotta do is show up. It’s way cooler.”
“I guess,” said Drew. But in fact, he realized how much Tommy’s opinion had diminished to him.
“I’m just so excited for this year to be over. I just want these stupid tests to be over, hand in the stupid books, and get outta here,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes and tossing his head back.
Just then, it occurred to Drew that he would have to give the book back to Mrs. Steinbeck in a few days. After that, he would never see the drawing again. He thought about ripping out page 139, or maybe taking a picture of it, but both of those options seemed to cheapen the experience. Part of the magic was to flip through the musty pages of the used science book. The thought of never giving the book back popped into Drew’s mind for a second, and then it was gone. To take the book would be stealing, and, unlike Tommy, Drew couldn’t do that.
He didn’t know what to do. All he did know was that he hated the thought of losing the picture.
****
Drew felt more frustrated than ever. The thought of asking Huddy if he drew the picture was daunting enough; asking him without even having the picture to show him didn’t seem like an option at all. I can’t just walk up to him without it. He might not remember if he drew it unless he actually sees it.
Tuesday evening, Drew sat slouched at the dinner table, mumbling one-word answers to his mom’s questions.
“Drew, you can’t do this. I’m worried about you,” Penny said.
“There’s nothing –”
“There’s nothing wrong, there’s nothing wrong. That’s what you keep saying. But there obviously is something wrong. And I am your mother and I need to know. You aren’t getting up from this table until you tell me.”
Drew kept his eyes glued to the chicken sandwich on his plate.
“Andrew David, look at me this instant.”
As Drew lifted his head, he felt the tears well up in his eyes. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. His mother put her arms around him. At least I’m not crying in front of anyone from school, Drew thought.
Finally, he explained the story to his mother. He showed her page 139 and told her about his constant pursuit of the Mystery Artist, his courageousness with Skylar, Alexus, and Jason, and his ultimate failure in uncovering the identity of the Mystery Artist.
Penny held the book in her hands and smiled. “This is a beautiful picture, Andrew.”
Drew was glad she appreciated it.
“What does it remind you of?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Doesn’t this remind you of something?”
Drew could tell she was attempting to lead him somewhere – he just wasn’t sure where. Penny closed the science book and set it down on the table next to the now-cold chicken sandwiches. She went to the closet in the living room and returned with a photo album Drew didn’t recognize.
“Have you seen these pictures?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, years ago, when your dad and I were together, the three of us went on a vacation to the beach. I always went with my family when I was a kid. Some of my best memories are the times I spent there, and we wanted to continue the tradition with you.”
Drew paged through the album slowly. “I know I’ve been to the beach, but I don’t really remember being there, if that makes any sense.”
“That makes perfect sense. You were only four.”
Drew’s eyes carefully traced each detail in the photos.
“Any of it look familiar?” Penny asked.
“Not really. I mean, I remember flying there on an airplane.”
“That’s right. We flew down to Orlando to spend a few days with my parents, and then we went to the shore.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. I remember going to one of Peter’s baseball games in Orlando.”
“That’s right, too. Do you remember anything else?”
Drew continued to turn the pages until something jogged his memory. “I remember this – the sandcastle!”
Penny smiled. “Oh, you do?”
“Yeah, a second ago I didn’t think I did, but I do. I remember trying to build a sandcastle, and you and dad were helping me. Yeah, I had all those buckets and little shovels …” The images were flooding back into his mind. He spoke faster and faster to get everything out before the memories disappeared again. “So we spent a ton of time making the best sandcastle – I remember I wanted it to be huge – and when we were almost finished, a wave came in and wiped it all away. I remember crying, and pushing my face into your leg, and … um, I think maybe we built another one …”
Drew was so intent on staring at the photo that he hadn’t lifted his head while he recalled the scene. Now, when he did, he saw that silent tears leaked from his mother’s eyes.
“That’s absolutely right, Andrew. Absolutely right.”
Drew smiled at her. He felt a heaviness in his chest, and he wished his dad were there too.
“Maybe this is the reason I like the picture in my book so much. Maybe it’s because I somehow remembered this. Could that be it?”
“I don’t know, could be,” Penny said, wiping the tears from her face. “So, if you love this picture in your book, and you believe it’s something worth pursuing, then keep going.”
****
Wednesday morning, Drew felt less anxious and more hopeful. He bounced to school, knowing just what he was on his way to do.
When he walked into the building, he found Caleb, who was standing with Tommy. “Hey, I need you to text Huddy. Tell him I need to meet with him after school today.”
Caleb pushed his hair out of his face and gave Drew a puzzled look. “Why?”
“Just do it. Tell him I’ll meet him outside where the elementary school and middle school connect, right by the playground. And tell him that I have something of his that I think he’ll want.”
“Huddy ain’t gonna wanna talk to you.”
“Just text him. We’ll meet right after school.”
At lunch, Caleb came over from his normal table and said Huddy would be behind the school this afternoon. He also told Drew that Huddy would be bringing a few friends with him.
By recess, Zobby had gotten word of Drew’s plan. As Drew was about to be up in a game of kickball, she strode through the infield, directly toward him, and pulled him aside.
“This doesn’t sound like a good idea. He’s crazy, remember?”
“I know, but I just have to ask him something.”
“What do you have to ask him? Why he’s such a jerk?”
Drew didn’t say anything.
“I know, it’s another thing you don’t wanna tell me,” said Zobby. “That’s fine, but I’m coming with you.”
“No way. I’ll do it by myself.”
Zobby shook her head. “He’s not gonna show up by himself, so neither are you. I’m coming.”
Zobby’s loyal bravery must have been contagious, because Jeff, Tommy, Trevor, and Caleb insisted they wanted to go, too. After their constant persistence, Drew said they could come, but he would have to talk to Huddy alone.
After school, they went around to the back of the building where the middle school and elementary school connected. Huddy was already there waiting with four other kids. Drew recognized one as the quiet boy from The Shack. But, to his surprise, Kris wasn’t there. Drew had hoped Kris would be one of the kids Huddy brought, because Kris was the only one who was level-headed that day in the woods. But in a way, though he wasn’t sure why, Drew was glad Kris hadn’t come to support Huddy.
“This better be good, Daley,” yelled Huddy. “I don’t got all day either. ‘Bout to go shoot some hoops.”
Drew walked right up to him. He clenched his teeth and breathed through his nose, trying his best to look calm and confident.
“So what did you steal from me? Huh? Hand it over before me and my boys beat up every one of you.”
Huddy’s four cronies, including the quiet boy, laughed brashly.
“I didn’t steal anything,” Drew whispered, unable to speak with authority.
“What was that, little girl? You didn’t steal nothing, huh? Then why did Roey say you had somethin’ of mine, huh?”
“Listen, I didn’t steal anything from you, all right? I have something of yours that I found at The Shack.”
“What? You’re really gonna bring up The Shack? You got a death wish or somethin’?”
“Listen, I’m not trying to start trouble. We messed up The Shack and you were mad, I get it. But you messed with us, too. So we’re even, okay?”
But as Drew said the words, he wondered if they were true. Were the kids even? Zobby’s phone was replaceable – there were a million other phones just like it. But the artwork inside The Shack could never truly be replaced. And, although he knew there was no excuse for what Huddy did to Zobby, Drew now understood how devastated Huddy must have been when his comics and drawings were destroyed.
“Can I just talk to you for a minute … alone?”
Huddy glanced at his friends. Drew could tell that Huddy had an image to maintain, and every move he made seemed to have that image in mind.
“Come on, just give me one minute.”
Huddy gave a nod to his friends, and the two walked off about 20 yards away from the rest of the kids.
“What’s this all about? What do you have?” Huddy asked, maintaining the sternness in both his face and his tone.
Drew set his book bag on the ground and pulled out a folder. From the folder, he removed a folded paper with the name “Mike Hudock” on the back.
“My picture!” Huddy exclaimed, snatching the paper from Drew’s hand.
“Yeah, I found it in The Shack, but I didn’t know it was yours ‘til after we left.”
“Yeah, it’s mine, I was –” Huddy caught himself and changed his tone. “I mean, yeah, I don’t care. I was just messing around with it. It was for art class a long time ago. I had to do it.”
But it was obvious that Huddy did indeed care about the picture. He hadn’t taken his eyes off it since he first unfolded it. Drew watched as Huddy seemed to trace the outline of the motorcycle with his widened eyes. He could tell that the way in which he appreciated this picture was the same way Drew appreciated the picture in the science book.
“Well, it’s good. You’re a good artist,” said Drew.
As though he realized his friends were watching him, Huddy suddenly switched his focus from the picture back to Drew. He squinted his eyes and molded his entire face into a scowl.
“Yeah, I’m good at a lot of things. So this was it? Seriously? That’s why we had this stupid meeting? Come on!”
He made sure he exclaimed the last part loudly enough for everyone to hear. Then he turned to face his friends and carefully slid the picture into his back pocket. In that moment, Drew realized that there really was another side to Huddy.
With another gust of nerve, Drew responded, “No, that’s not all.”
Huddy turned back around. “Then what?” he barked.
An entire school year of searching helped Drew to find his courage, and he turned to his book bag on the ground and pulled out his science book. In a flash, he opened to page 139.
“I just need to know – you drew this, right?”
Again the hard exterior of Huddy vanished. He slid next to Drew to get a better look. His eyes drank every detail of the drawing.
“No, that’s not mine. I would’ve remembered drawing something like that.” The boy’s words were soft and heartfelt. They were also whispered so his cronies couldn’t hear his vulnerability.
A wave of disappointment crashed over Drew. How could it not be Huddy? He’s a good artist. He cares about his pictures. He had the same book. It all adds up – it has to be him!
“But –”
“I didn’t draw the stupid picture!” Huddy snapped.
He grabbed the textbook and flung it behind the two of them. Drew didn’t move. As all of Huddy’s friends – including Caleb – laughed, Huddy picked up Drew’s book bag and dumped everything out. “That’s for wasting my time …” He turned and stepped so close to Drew that he cast a shadow over him. “Don’t bother me ever again. You hear me? If you do, you’ll get much worse than this.”
Drew didn’t budge. He stood toe to toe with the bully, refusing to bow down to his intimidating glare. After several seconds, Huddy scoffed and returned to his friends, who were all still laughing.
Before leaving, he said, “Hey, you wanna hoop with us, Roey?”
“Yeah, but I was gonna hang out with Tommy …”
“I’ll come, too,” Tommy said eagerly.
Huddy motioned with his head, and Caleb and Tommy followed the older boys. Now, Drew and his friends were left to clean up the mess. It was Zobby who first began to pick up all the loose items. Jeff patted Drew on the shoulder while Trevor jogged over toward the science book. Drew thought someone as big as Trevor would have done something, but he actually looked more shaken than anyone.
“What was that all about anyway? That picture of the beach?” asked Jeff.
Drew nodded.
“You all right?” Zobby asked.
Drew gazed out across the empty playground for several seconds. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He had taken so many risks – approaching the most popular girl in school, going to The Shack, throwing a snowball at an eighth-grader, talking to Tommy’s scary older brother – and now, after all this time, he had gotten nowhere. What was once a promising adventure turned out to be nothing but dead ends.
Zobby and Trevor walked home toward their houses while Drew and Jeff headed in the other direction.
“Man, I’m sorry about all that,” said Jeff, after the boys passed the closed bridge.
“Thanks,” said Drew. “I just wanted to find out who drew the picture.”
“Well, I’d be glad it wasn’t that kid,” said Jeff. “Seriously, he’s crazy.”
Drew smiled. Jeff had a good point. And truthfully, underneath all the confusion, Drew did feel a little relieved that his beloved picture wasn’t drawn by Huddy.
****
On Thursday, Mrs. Steinbeck gave the students a few minutes to review notes and ask questions before the final test. Drew leafed through his book, half-heartedly reviewing the information. Along with the picture, he realized he would also miss the book itself – the familiar smell of the worn pages, the distinct rustling sound they made as they glided through his fingers, and even the handwritten names inside the front cover. He couldn’t believe he only had it for one more day.
At lunch, Tommy took his normal seat as if he hadn’t ditched Drew and Jeff yesterday. He popped a tater tot into his mouth and casually struck up a conversation about summer activities.
Jonathan passed by and said, “Surprised to see you here today, Daley. I figured you woulda been crippled by Huddy.” He set his lunch down on the table. “Seriously, did that really happen? Did you wanna talk to a scary kid who’s two years older and twice your size about some stupid drawing?”
“Lay off, man,” said Jeff.
“I got this,” said Drew. He turned to Jonathan and said, “Yeah, I did talk to Huddy about a drawing. And guess what? Huddy likes art, too. I doubt you’d make fun of him – or, if you want, you can go tell him how stupid art is. Want me to arrange a meeting for you?”
After a moment of stunned silence, Tommy yelled “Mic drop!” and everyone at the table roared a collective “Ohhh!” The clamor rippled through the cafeteria, and Jonathan was sent scurrying away by the sweeping chorus of jeers.
Although Jonathan was gone, Drew still felt like stepping away from the table himself.
“I’m gonna grab another chocolate milk,” he said.
When he got in line, someone asked, “Hey, what was all that about?”
Drew turned around and saw Skylar. “Huh? What was what about?”
“All the yelling.”
“Oh, uh, that was nothing,” he said sheepishly.
Skylar playfully nudged his shoulder. “Come on, tell me.”
“Well, remember that drawing we talked about a long time ago?”
“The one in the science book?”
“Yeah. I thought I finally figured out who drew it. I had it down to two people, and one of them is this girl Stacey Janofsky – I guess some people called her ‘Red’ … You don’t happen to know her, do you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I figured. She doesn’t live here anymore. Anyway, you’re not gonna believe this, but I thought it was Mike Hudock, you know, Huddy? Anyway, I found out he liked art, and I had crossed off everyone else, so I figured it was him. Then when I talked to him about it he just said, ‘I would’ve remembered a picture like that,’ or something. Then he dumped everything out of my book bag and threw my science book, then Jonathan was making fun of me about it. I don’t know. It has to be Stacey, but I have no clue how I’ll ever talk to her. But anyway, that’s why everyone was yelling and stuff.”
Skylar responded, “That’s awful! I’m sorry he messed with you. Michael is such a jerk sometimes! But … you said he’s an artist?”
Hearing Skylar say Huddy’s real name sounded strange. It was like his nickname made him seem larger than life, while the name Michael showed that he was just a regular kid.
“Well, I don’t know if he’s an artist,” said Drew, “but I do know he likes to draw. He’s good, too. Probably not better than the person who drew the picture in the science book, though. They’re the best!”
“Wow. That’s surprising. A cool kid like him into drawing,” said Skylar, seeming to drift off for a second. “But hey, I’m gonna get back. Bye, Drew.”
Even though it was a Melia’s Thursday, Drew doubted the boys would make the trip to the convenience store. The three of them hadn’t talked about the Melia’s situation, but they all knew that things had changed. Not even Tommy brought up wanting to go back.
At their lockers at the end of the day, Jeff explained that Zane’s kindergarten graduation was today and he would be staying after school for that. So it was just Drew and Tommy walking home together.
“Look!” Tommy exclaimed. “The bridge isn’t closed anymore. We can walk right across now. We’ll get home twice as fast.”
But when the boys were a step away from the bridge, Drew slowed down. He felt like his feet were stuck in the pavement.
“I don’t think I wanna go this way,” he said.
Tommy looked at him blankly.
“It’s just we walked the other way the entire year, and I think I’m gonna keep doing that.” He paused for a moment and said, “Come with me, man.”
“No,” said Tommy. “It makes no sense. We’ll get home faster by the bridge. It’s like a shortcut.”
Drew shrugged. “I know, man, but I’m still just gonna go the long way.”
“Whatever.”
Tommy didn’t seem to have the faintest idea what Drew was talking about. They said their goodbyes, and Drew took the long way home.
****
As Drew approached Skylar’s house, she and a woman who appeared to be her mom were sitting on the front porch. Drew waved and gave a subtle head nod to Skylar as he passed.
“Hey, Drew,” she yelled.
“Who’s that?” Drew heard the woman say.
“That’s Drew. He goes to my school,” said Skylar. She shifted her attention to Drew. “Hey, come meet my mom.”
“I was just going to get Skylar and me some lemonade. Would you like to stop for a few minutes?” Mrs. Jansen asked.
“Um, sure, thanks.”
“Let’s wait inside. It’s way too hot out here,” said Skylar.
They walked inside and Mrs. Jansen went into the kitchen to get the lemonade.
When Drew walked into the house, he felt a similar sensation to when he would open his science book to page 139. The living room wall was covered with framed artwork. To the left was a picture of a moonlit forest, drawn with dark shades of blue, purple, and green pastel. On the opposite wall was an illustration of the Jansens’ front porch, sketched in pencil. With a triumphant rush of joy, Drew put the pieces together.
“These are … yours.”
Before Skylar could respond, her mom returned from the kitchen.
“Oh, they are all hers,” she said, handing Skylar and Drew each a glass. “But she hardly draws anything anymore. I can’t even get her to take art class, can you believe that? She has real talent – much more than her father and I ever had.”
“Mom, stop.”
“I’m serious. Aren’t these good, Drew?”
“They’re unbelievable.”
He turned to Skylar, who took a swig of lemonade and looked away.
“Thank you for the drink, Mrs. Jansen. But I have to get home now.”
“Thank you for stopping, Drew. You’re welcome here any time.”
Skylar silently walked Drew out to the front porch.
“Well, I have to get going, bye,” said Drew, hurrying down the sidewalk.
“Drew, wait.”
He turned around and waited for her to continue. She opened her mouth but didn’t say anything.
Finally, Drew asked the question he needed to ask. “The picture in the science book. It was you all along, wasn’t it?”
Skylar hesitated. Clasping her hands behind her back and looking down at the ground, she said, “Yes. But you have to understand …”
“Understand what?”
“I dunno. When you asked me right away, I didn’t know you. I didn’t know you’d make it like your mission or whatever to find the person who drew the picture.”
“Why didn’t you tell me after we became friends?” Drew asked.
“I dunno.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Drew.
Skylar didn’t respond. She was normally composed, but now she seemed unnerved.
Drew paused and realized he had a more important question to ask her: “Why do you think I love the picture so much?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve shown it to a bunch of people, and none of them cared about it as much as I do. Something about it is special, but I can’t figure out what.”
“I dunno,” said Skylar. “It’s just a picture.”
“Not to me. And I know it’s special to you, too. When I first mentioned it to you, your eyes lit up. Why?”
“Drew, I … I guess because it’s something simple. Or maybe it took my mind off science class. That’s probably why. But I have no idea why you like it so much.”
Drew paused. “Okay,” he said finally. He realized she was right. She had drawn the picture, but she wasn’t responsible for Drew’s reaction to it.
Drew turned toward the street but stopped again. “One other question. Why don’t you draw anymore? You’re really good.”
“No, my parents are the only ones who think I’m good. I do it for fun or whatever. It’s no big deal.”
“Well, I’m telling you, you are good. Do you know what I was thinking about when I walked by your house this afternoon?”
Skylar shook her head side to side.
“I was thinking about what I should do with my science book tomorrow. I have to hand it in, and I might never see that picture again. It meant a lot to me this year. I still don’t know why, but I know it’s my favorite picture. And tomorrow it’ll be gone. I just … I don’t get why you wouldn’t wanna keep taking art and making more pictures.”
Skylar shrugged and slightly tilted her head. “All my friends take study hall. So I just decided to do that instead. That’s all.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. I can tell by the pictures in there that you like doing it.”
Skylar blankly stared at Drew. She seemed to be growing more and more uncomfortable.
“Uh, it’s fine, never mind,” said Drew. “But I do have to go.”
“All right.”
Before Drew got to the curb, he turned around. Skylar was still on the porch. Drew thought for a moment and said, “I’m glad it was you.”
Skylar smiled and went back inside.
****
It was officially the last day of fifth grade. Drew couldn’t believe he had finally found his Mystery Artist.
For the most part, the last day of school was a breeze. The teachers allowed the students to play games and sign each other’s yearbooks. Of course, Mrs. Steinbeck still conducted a regular class, teaching a lesson from the last chapter of the book and preparing the students for some of the topics that would be covered next year.
Even though he knew she was a good teacher, Drew was relieved to get out of Mrs. Steinbeck’s class altogether. He hated being nervous every time she called his name.
“Mr. Daley.”
“Huh? Yes?”
“Your book, Mr. Daley.”
He had decided to hand in the book without making a copy or ripping out page 139. Finding the artist made it a lot easier for him to give up the picture he loved. He found a great deal of happiness in it, and he hoped the book’s future owner would, too.
As he extended the book toward Mrs. Steinbeck, he hesitated and, for a brief second, second-guessed his decision. But she took the book, opened to the inside cover to verify the book identification number, and nodded. It was over.
****
At lunch, Drew looked for Skylar, but she wasn’t at her normal table.
“Everybody signed up for study hall, right?” Tommy asked the group.
“Yeah,” said Trevor. “I need all the extra studying I can get.”
“Me too,” added Jeff.
“I signed up for art,” said Drew.
“Are you serious …”
Before Tommy could finish his insult, Drew snapped back, “Yeah, I am serious. I like art. I like to draw. And guess what, so does Huddy, even if he won’t admit it. And Skylar likes it, too. But even if no one else liked it, I still would. So I don’t care if you think it’s stupid. ‘Cause it’s not stupid to me.”
Tommy was stunned. In fact, all the boys were, including Drew himself. A few seconds later, Trevor broke the tension by bringing up a water park his family planned to visit next week, and the boys didn’t rehash the art-versus-study hall discussion. Drew had officially closed that debate.
****
Mr. Sawyer tried to do a bit of teaching, but he knew as well as the students did that it was time for summer break to begin. He went around the room and asked the students to name their favorite thing about the class. Many kids talked about multicultural week. A few others, including Drew and Jeff, talked about their field trip to the museum.
When all the students had answered, Abigail raised her hand and asked Mr. Sawyer what his favorite moment was.
“Well, you know I’m proud of all of you for the hard work you did this year. But there is one presentation that sticks out to me. At the beginning of the year, you had to talk about a role model of yours, remember?”
Everyone nodded.
“And Drew talked about the runner who picked up a flower holder the wind had blown over. More than the awards or accolades, the money or appreciation, I love the idea of someone doing something regardless of how it will be perceived. Or, better yet, even if it might never be seen at all. Those things we do when no one is watching – that’s how we know who we are.”
Mr. Sawyer paused for a moment. Then he continued:
“A lot of things will change when you get to middle school next year. Things like peer pressure may play a bigger role. But remember to always be yourself, no matter who’s watching. Now, I know you’ve heard this before and you’ll hear it again, but remember: it doesn’t matter what others think they see. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
“You mean that a lot of things around us will change, but we shouldn’t change, right?” said Abigail.
“Well,” said Mr. Sawyer, “no, you will change. That’s inevitable. I’m certainly not saying you should live in the past. What I’m saying is there are some things you should leave in the past, and some things you should keep forever. Don’t let the world change you completely. We’ve all got a youthful spirit within us. Make sure you never lose yours. Don’t forget what it’s like to just be a kid.”
The final bell of the school year rang as he finished his sentence.
“Have a good summer. And don’t forget to visit me next year. Just because you’re big middle schoolers now doesn’t mean you’re too cool for me.”
Every student was up and out of the room before Drew got up from his seat.
“Did you mean all that?” he asked Mr. Sawyer.
“You know I did, Drew. Sometimes people make choices for the wrong reasons. You’re a really good kid. Trust your instincts. And always remember to be prepared for a presentation,” he joked, referencing the infamous “States” project.
Drew laughed. “Yeah. Thanks for everything, Mr. Sawyer.”
He walked out into the hallway, where Jeff and Tommy were waiting for him.
“Hey, man, Roey said he’s going to play some street hockey. You in?” Tommy asked.
“Probably not today.”
“Come on, man, it’s summer now!”
“No, but thanks, though.”
“You sure you can’t go either, Jeff?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Suit yourselves. I’m goin’ straight to Roey’s house. See you at our game tomorrow.”
****
With empty book bags on their backs, Drew and Jeff started home. When they got to the bridge, Drew explained to Jeff that he still wanted to take the long way home. To his surprise, Jeff said he would join him. They walked down and around the bridge, the way they had done nearly the entire school year.
“Did you understand what Mr. Sawyer meant?” Jeff asked. “He was talking about holding on to things. Do you think that means you should’ve held on to that picture?”
“I don’t think so. I think I just need to remember how it made me feel, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” said Jeff. “Mr. Sawyer’s probably right. A lot of stuff will probably change in middle school. Some things already started changing, I think.”
“Drew!” Skylar was hurrying down her sidewalk.
“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be walking this way,” she said, standing in front of him. “You know, because that bridge is open. But I’m glad you did …”
Taking his cue, Jeff said, “I gotta get home. I’ll catch up with you later.”
The boys exchanged a subtle wink, and Jeff headed down the road.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Skylar continued. “I know I said it yesterday, but I want you to know that I really am.”
“Don’t be,” said Drew. “I should be thanking you for drawing the picture.”
Skylar smiled. “Did you hand in your science book today?”
“Yeah, ‘fraid so.”
“Did you rip the drawing out, take a picture of it, anything?”
“No, nothing. I left it there and handed it in. Maybe someone will like it as much as I did,” said Drew, happy with his decision.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Skylar replied. She pulled a large notepad out of her book bag, opened it, and carefully tore out the first sheet.
“I thought maybe you’d like this,” she said, handing the sheet to Drew. “I worked on it all last night, and I finished it today during lunch.”
In Drew’s hands was a larger, more detailed version of the ocean scene drawing. Drew stared into it, and it had an even stronger effect on him than the picture in the book had. An old memory seemed to arise from a shadowed corner in his mind. He remembered being at the beach with his parents when he was four years old. He recognized it as the same memory captured in the photo album his mom had shown him.
But now, as his eyes remained fixated on the picture, the memory became so vivid that he felt like he had traveled back in time and was standing on the beach. He could see the movement of the waves, the way they would rush toward the shore and then wash away in gentle retreat. He remembered how the tide varied according to the time and the wind, and he thought, for a moment, about how we are always inevitably changing.
In the closet of their beachfront condo, Drew had found an old set of sandcastle tools, containing a small sand shovel and three differently-shaped buckets. Standing by the curb in front of Skylar’s house, Drew could sense the excitement he had felt when he took those tools to the beach.
He continued to gaze into the picture. Now he could hear the sounds of the beach: the waves, the music, the people milling about, the cawing of the sea gulls. Strangely, though, none of those sounds served as distractions. Rather, they joined together harmoniously as background noise to allow the moment to be captured. Drew had spent what felt like hours building the biggest, best sandcastle he could – digging, piling, molding, shaping. And now he recalled the moment when a wave came to shore and knocked over his kingdom in the sand. He remembered what his parents said to him in that moment, and it seemed very important.
“Don’t cry, Drew,” his mother had said, putting her arm around him.
“We’ll build another one, bud,” said his father.
“But I liked this one,” young Drew whimpered as tears streaked down his cheeks. “And now it’s ruined.”
“Nothing is ever ruined,” said his mother.
“But it was perfect.”
“I know it was. So we’ll just have to build an even better one,” his father said, smiling at his wife.
She smiled back.
“It’s all we can do,” she said as she wiped Drew’s tears.
Drew looked up at his parents’ smiling faces and stopped crying. He stooped over, picked up his tools, and began building another castle.
“Do you like it?” Skylar asked.
In a hushed voice, Drew said, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Skylar blushed and brushed her yellow hair from her face.
“Seriously, I can’t believe you did all this –” Drew’s words were cut off by a different voice yelling from the front door.
“Hey, Mom, it’s him! I knew it! It’s really him!”
Sprinting from the front porch toward Drew was an elated little kid. “You saved me!”
Skylar looked to Drew, who shrugged to show that he was just as confused as she was.
“Who? Drew? Was it Drew this whole time?” asked Mrs. Jansen, following her son down the sidewalk.
As he got closer, Drew finally got a good look at the kid’s face. It was Brady, the kindergartener he had guided to the art room on the first day of school.
“What do you mean, he saved you?” asked Skylar.
“Come on, remember!” Brady implored.
“All year Brady has been talking about his savior,” said Mrs. Jansen, smiling at Drew. “The six-foot tall hero who saved him and got him back to his class. It’s all we’ve heard about.”
“You’re him?” asked Skylar.
“Um,” said Drew, “I don’t know about the six-foot tall stuff or anything about a hero, but I did help Brady find the art room on the first day of school.”
The once bashful Brady threw his arms around Drew’s waist. “You’re the best. Thank you!”
“I told him if he ever ran into you again, make sure to thank you,” said Mrs. Jansen. “So often people do good things but never know what real impact they make.”
Drew’s mind sprinted to the runner, the person he looked up to, the person who helped him launch his quest for the Mystery Artist in the first place.
Mrs. Jansen lured Brady back inside with the promise of a juice box and a snack. As Skylar and Drew stood in the Jansens’ front yard, Drew couldn’t help staring down at his brand new picture. Even though Skylar hadn’t seen the drawing in a full year, she had somehow recaptured all its beauty.
“So,” Skylar said, “you helped my little brother find the art room, did you?”
“It was no big deal. He was just a little mixed up. It was his first day.”
“Well, the picture wasn’t the only thing I wanted to talk to you about. We had class signups today. What did you take, music, art, or study hall?”
“I took art. I guess you’re taking study hall again, right?”
“Not this time. I took art. And what’s even better is because I didn’t take it this year, I’m in art-one next year … so we’ll be in the same class.”
“I … don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“But I do. Thank you, Skylar. The picture in the book. Now this. This is awesome.”
Skylar smiled and walked back up her sidewalk, and Drew continued down the street.
All the bad things from the past year – the storm, the broken window, the cheating, the bullies, the defeats – seemed small and distant, and Drew was glad to leave them buried in the past. But, looking down at the picture, he knew there were also some things worth holding on to.
He also knew that some questions still remained. Was the old Tommy really gone forever? And though she wasn’t the artist, what really did happen to Stacey Janofsky? And, most of all, he wondered what kinds of changes middle school would bring.
But for now, as he headed home with the picture in his hands, Drew had victory in his heart and a brand new summer before him. He carefully rolled the picture into a cylinder. Then an extra burst entered his stride, and his feet moved faster and faster. He turned the corner and ran toward Ernest Way without looking back.