The Lock Artist

Nine

Michigan

June 1999

Last day of school. I had one more year left, of course, but it still felt like a big day to me. Griffin would be going to art school in Wisconsin. Not far enough away from home to suit him, but he apparently didn’t have many other options. I wasn’t sure how well I’d do without him, but Mr. Martie took me aside that day and told me that a couple of the art schools were asking about me. They had seen some of my stuff at a district-wide portfolio day, and they were already liking my “special circumstances.” It made a good angle for them, I guess. The Miracle Boy healed by art.

“This could be your big ticket,” he said. “You know what happens to you at art school?”

I shook my head.

“All that good natural technique you have? All that detail? They’ll beat it right out of you. They’ll be so threatened by it, they’ll make you start throwing paint at the canvas like a monkey. By the time you graduate, the only thing you’ll be able to do is teach art to high school kids.”

Okay, I thought. I’m glad he’s excited for me.

“On the plus side, you’ll probably get laid a lot.”

I gave him a nod and a quick thumbs-up. He patted me on the shoulder and then left me alone.

I kept thinking about it for the rest of the day. Maybe I’d end up at Wisconsin with Griffin. Or hell, any art school that would take me away from this place. I had this feeling in my chest, this helium lightness that I’d never experienced before. When school let out and we all had this long summer stretching out in front of us, I wondered what the evening would hold for me. There were parties, of course. I wasn’t exactly a party animal, as you can imagine, but I knew Griffin and all of the other art students would be doing something that night.

He had arranged to pick me up at the liquor store right after dinner. I was waiting outside when he arrived in his red Chevy Nova with the plaid seats. When he got out of his car, I pointed at myself and made a driving motion.

“No, I’ll drive.” He looked over at Uncle Lito’s old Grand Marquis. “Come on, get in.”

I pointed at him, made a drinking motion, spun my hands around both ears, then made like a man driving like a maniac. He got the general idea then. So that’s how we ended up in the Grand Marquis. It was total style, of course, with the two-tone finish, light brown and dark brown. Big dent in the back fender. Just over a hundred thousand miles on it, and smelling like a cigar factory. It was the only way to hit a summer night in Milford, Michigan, on the last day of school.

We drove to the house of one of the girls in our art class. There were a dozen people sitting around in folding chairs, looking bored. We hung around a few minutes, then moved on to the next. The sun went down. The air was turning cool.

We kept making the rounds and ended up at another art student’s house. It hadn’t been a winning formula yet, but here, finally, things were looking up. There were a lot of people there, for one thing, and the growing darkness seemed to be a signal to everyone that the real party was just beginning. There was loud music coming from the backyard, smoke rising in the sky from a barbecue. I found my classmate and shook her hand, didn’t flinch when she wrapped her arms around me. She whispered in my ear that I could have anything I wanted in my life if I kept working hard enough. The kind of thing you say only after a few beers on an empty stomach.

She dragged me into the backyard, where the music was so loud it hurt. She was into obscure techno music, as I remember, so all the kids were dancing away or voguing or whatever the hell they were doing. Another six or seven kids were jumping up and down on a trampoline, bumping into each other and almost falling off the damned thing. The one oblivious adult stood flipping burgers at the grill, a thick pair of acoustic headphones on his ears.

My classmate tried to yell something to me. I couldn’t make out what she was saying. She gave up and pointed to a group of girls who were standing in the far corner of the yard. Nadine spotted me and waved me over.

I caught an elbow in the ribs as I made my way through the crowd, from somebody doing some kind of robot dance. When I finally got to the other side, I saw that the girls were all standing around a huge silver tub filled with ice and beer bottles. Nadine separated herself from the other girls and came to me, one bottle in each hand. She was wearing shorts and a sleeveless blouse, looking more like a tennis player today than an art student. She handed me a bottle.

I opened it and took a sip. It was cold enough to taste good, even if alcohol was still not high on my list. You see enough drunken wreckage walking into a liquor store every day, it sort of puts you off the stuff. But tonight… What the hell, right?

She tried to say something to me. I couldn’t hear her over the music. I leaned in close, and she spoke right into my ear. “It’s good to see you here.” I could smell her soft scent as our heads came together. I could feel her breath on my neck.

We stood there for a while, watching everyone jumping around and having a great time, or just standing on the fringes trying to look cool. I didn’t see Griffin anywhere, but I figured he could take care of himself for a few minutes. The stars were coming out. I had only drunk half the bottle of beer, but it went down fast and it was enough to make me feel a little dizzy. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

Maybe best of all, it was okay to be standing next to Nadine and not saying anything. Everyone in the party was effectively just as mute as I was, because nobody could hear a damn word you were saying anyway.

Nadine went to get another beer for herself. I couldn’t help wondering how many she had already had before I got there. When she came back to me, she put her hand on my arm. She left it there. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do in response.

The music stopped for a moment. The sudden silence roared in my ears.

“Mike,” she said.

I looked down at her.

“Come here.”

I know I must have looked a little confused. She wasn’t more than eighteen inches away from me. How much more here could I get?

She grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me closer. Then she kissed me.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t respond in any way. I just kept looking at her. The music started again, just as loud as before.

The other girls she was with pulled her away from me. She waved at me to follow them. So I did. I found Griffin on the way out, gave him a little head bob. Follow us. When we were back in front of the house, away from the assault of the music, she told me that they were all going to another party and that I should follow them. I stood there feeling a little bit embarrassed by the Marquis.

Nadine got into her car. One of her friends rode shotgun, and the four other girls piled into the backseat. A couple of them looked like they were on their last legs already, and it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet.

Griffin and I got into my car and followed them across town.

“What do you think?” he said. “Is tonight the night?”

I looked over at him.

“You and Nadine? Hot summer night?”

I shook him off, but I couldn’t help noticing how her kiss was still right there on my lips.

We were headed west, out toward the proving grounds. Nadine turned down a dirt road, and as I drove behind her, her car kicked up a cloud of dust in my headlights. Finally, she pulled off, parking on the side of the road behind a line of other cars. As I got out, I could see the cars stretching all the way down to a long driveway. This was obviously the A-list party of the night.

“Where the hell are we?” Griffin said. “Whose house is this?”

I put my hands up. No idea.

“You really want to go in?”

I looked at him. Like, what do you think?

“I suppose we could check it out.”

We caught up to Nadine and her friends. I walked beside her. She kept brushing her hair back and tucking it behind her ears. I was terrified of the idea of trying to hold her hand. She kept smiling at me.

The house was made of logs, not a rustic-looking Abe Lincoln log cabin but one of those nicer log homes with lots of windows and high beamed ceilings. It overlooked a good acre of lawn that ran all the way down to the tree line. Next to the house sat an empty Michigan State Police car.

There were citronella candles burning every few feet to keep away the mosquitoes. There was music playing, of course. I could feel the thump of the bass notes as we went through the front door, but thankfully the volume was only turned up to nine this time. Instead of weird techno, it was good old-fashioned white boy rock music. Van Halen, Guns N’ Roses, AC/DC. There were so many people in the house, there was barely room to stand.

Nadine’s friends formed a wedge and started leading us through the house. I saw a photograph on the wall of a state trooper in full dress uniform, standing proudly next to his German shepherd. There was an open sliding door ahead, past the dining room table. That seemed to be our target.

It was just as crowded outside. There was a huge banner mounted on a clothesline, at least ten feet long and four feet wide. MILFORD KICKS ASS, in big block letters. With a drawing of a foot kicking an actual set of buttocks, in case you didn’t get the point. Right below the banner, there was a keg on ice. Nadine and her friends all grabbed red plastic cups and got in line. She handed me a cup, and I stood next to her. Then I felt a strong hand on my shoulder.

“Hot damn! It’s my man, Mike!”

It was Brian Hauser. The House himself, the senior hotshot whose lock I had opened back in the fall. Right before he and the rest of the team got trounced in the big game against Lakeland High School. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with every shade of blue and green ever invented. It seemed like he was taking a little bit of extra effort just to put his words together tonight.

“How’s it hanging, man? I’m glad you made it! Who you got here?”

He took a quick scan. Nadine and her friends. Griffin.

“Okay, then,” he said. “The party’s complete now. Hey, can I talk to you for a minute? There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

I looked at Nadine and Griffin.

“Will you ladies excuse us for a second?” he said to her. “And you, sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Griffin.”

“Yeah, it’ll just be one moment. We’re gonna step into the VIP Room here. You go ahead and hit that keg. We’ve got a few more lined up, so don’t worry if it’s running out.”

Brian led me away to his “VIP Room,” which apparently was the upper level of his back deck. There was an actual red velvet rope strung from the posts. Brian untied the rope from one post and let me through, then retied it as we headed up the steps. There was a patio table up there, with a big green umbrella and padded chairs. There was a hot tub. Two other seniors were sitting on the edge, their feet in the water. Trey Tollman, the quarterback, and another guy from the team named Danny Farrely.

“Hey, look who I found,” Brian said to them.

Danny nearly fell over himself as he came barefoot from the edge of the hot tub.

“Michael, my man!” Like I was his long lost friend.

“You know Danny and Trey,” Brian said. “From the team.”

“I want to tell you something,” Danny said. He pulled me away from Brian and wrapped his arm around my neck, the sickly sweet smell of hard alcohol on his breath. “You’re okay. You know that? You really are. You’re like an inspiration to me.”

“Okay, leave him alone,” Trey said. “You’re slobbering all over him.”

“Come over here,” Brian said, pulling me back. “You want something to drink? Trey, you got any of that punch left?”

“Hell, yeah,” Trey said. He grabbed a cup from the table and poured a tall drink from the pitcher sitting next to it. “Give this a try. It’ll fix you right up.”

I took the cup from him and tried it. It tasted like regular old fruit punch to me.

“That’s the Sucker Punch,” Brian said. “Don’t drink it too fast, eh?”

“God damn,” Danny said. “The artist himself.” He went back to the edge of the hot tub and put one foot back in. “The fucking Rembrandt of Milford. Fuck, this water is hot.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Trey said. “You’re not going to melt.”

“I don’t see you getting in.”

“Yeah, well, if anybody’s getting naked back here, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be just us guys, I can tell you that.”

“The VIP Room! When are we gonna get some girls up here, anyway?”

“So let me ask you,” Brian said, brushing his friends aside. “You remember that day you opened up my lock?”

I nodded.

“How did you do that?”

They all looked at me intently, like they were actually expecting me to answer. I put my hands up.

“It’s complicated,” Brian said. “Is that what you’re saying? You just have to know how?”

“He’s an artist,” Danny said. “With a paintbrush or a padlock.”

I took another sip of the drink. It was sweet and it went down easy. The deck started to move under my feet. Just a little bit at that point. Not the full-blown Tilt-A-Whirl.

“So then, let me ask you this,” Brian said. “Can you open up other kinds of locks?”

I gave him half a shrug, half a nod.

“Like key locks? Can you open those? You probably need tools, though, right?”

“I bet you he can,” Danny said. “He’s an artist, I tell you.”

“What kind of tools would you need?” Brian said. “I mean, I’m just wondering.”

I didn’t have my homemade tools with me. I should have just waved him off and tried to go find Griffin and Nadine. Funny how it’s hard to change the subject when you can’t speak, though. You can’t help but be a captive listener.

“If I get my old man’s toolbox, will you show me? I think it’s just amazing that you can do that.”

“He’s amazing,” Danny said. “He’s the amazing artist of art and… something. Wait.”

“Will you shut up with that, already?” Trey said.

“You’re just jealous because you’re not amazing.”

“Here, come on down,” Brian said. “I’ll get the tools.”

He led me back down the stairs, practically towing me behind him. Danny and Trey followed us. I tried to find Griffin and Nadine, but I couldn’t see them anywhere. I was about to go inside, but Brian blocked my path as he came back out with a big metal toolbox. I started to feel a little bit nervous about this. I took another couple of sips from the Sucker Punch. Probably not the best idea in the world.

“So what do you need here?” Brian said. “I’ve got no clue.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and felt myself starting to float away. I opened my eyes and knelt down next to the toolbox. I pulled out a long thin screwdriver to use as a tension bar. I rummaged through the rest of the tools, but there was nothing even close to a usable pick in there.

“What are you looking for? What do you need?”

I put my fingers together and then pulled them apart, like I was holding something long and straight. Then with one hand I made a jabbing motion.

“A pin? Is that what you need?”

I gave him the thumbs-up.

“Be right back.”

People were starting to gather around me now. The music was still pounding. Beyond the burning candles in the yard it was pitch black all around us. I took another long sip from my cup.

“I found a big safety pin,” Brian said as he came back outside. “Will this work?”

I gave him the thumbs-up again. Then I took the safety pin from him, opened it, and used a pair of needle-nose pliers to bend the tip up about forty-five degrees.

“Fuckin’-A,” Brian said. “Can you really open a lock with that? What can you open, like this door over here?”

He went to the big glass sliding door, pushed a couple of people away, and then closed it. He reached into his pocket, took out his key ring, fumbled for the right key, and then put it in the lock.

“How about this one?” he said, rattling the handle to make sure it was locked tight. “Can you open this now?”

I went to the door and felt my legs creak as I knelt down by the handle. I put the cup down and looked at the lock. It was a basic, inexpensive lock. Probably just five regular straight pins. Under normal circumstances, I probably could have cracked it in under a minute, but now, using makeshift tools, with everyone watching, especially with the Sucker Punch tumbling through my bloodstream… I wasn’t so sure I could do it at all.

“Hey, turn off that music,” Brian said.

The music didn’t stop.

“Hey, I said turn off the fucking music! There’s an artist at work here.”

If everyone hadn’t been focused on what I was doing, they sure as hell were now. I could see them piling against the glass from the inside. I could feel them standing right behind me on the deck.

“Give him some room,” Danny said. “Let the man do his magic.”

I put the screwdriver into the lock, keeping it toward the bottom so I’d be able to reach all of the pins. I turned it just enough to feel the tension. Then I slipped the bent safety pin into the lock and went to work. I felt for the back pin, pushed it up with the pin, felt it stick in place. One down.

“Go,” Danny said. “Go… Go… Go… Go…”

Everybody joined in with him. Everybody was chanting as I worked the next pin.

“Go go go go go go go.”

I could feel the sweat dripping down the back of my neck.

“Go go go go go go go go.”

I had the third pin up now. Then I felt the pin slip in my fingers. I pulled everything out and shook the tension out of my hands.

That’s when I finally saw Griffin standing in the crowd. Nadine was next to him. Griffin had a smug smile on his face, but Nadine obviously had no idea what to make of this whole scene. I could have given up then. I could have stood up and shrugged my shoulders and given Brian his tools back. But I kept going. I gave her a little nod, and then I went back to the lock.

“Everybody be quiet,” Brian said. “You’re distracting him.”

I reset the tension and went in for the back pin, lifted it just enough, and then went on to the next. Keeping just enough tension on that screwdriver, because that’s the whole game right there. Having that touch. I blocked everything else out, the people standing all around me, the dizzy sick feeling that was building in my gut. Everything. It all faded away as I worked each pin one by one, feeling them with my fingers. Each one sliding up to just the right position until I finally came to the next one. Here’s where I’d find out if they were regular pins or something more complicated. If they were mushroom pins, they’d have that extra little notch in them and I’d have to keep the tension just right and go back and lift each pin a second time. But no. The last pin was up and the lock seemed to spring free on its own now, like it wanted to be open all along. I turned the handle and opened the door as everybody went wild all around me, screaming and carrying on like I had just defused a deadly time bomb.

It felt good. Okay? I admit it. It felt good.

“That’s awesome, man.” Brian pulled me to my feet and gave me a big slap on the back. “That’s fucking awesome.”

“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” Danny said. “I’m not lying to you. That was the single coolest thing ever.”

“I gotta admit,” Trey said, hitting me in the shoulder. “That was impressive. You’re like a superspy, right? You can go anywhere you want.”

Griffin was still standing at the back of the crowd, shaking his head. That same smile on his face. Nadine was gone. When I pointed to the spot next to him, he looked around the deck and shrugged.

I didn’t think she’d just leave, but hell, maybe she was mad at me for leaving her there in the beer line while I went up to the VIP Room. Or maybe I had no idea what she was thinking. Her or any other female in the world.

I went inside and made my way through the dining room to the front door, looking everywhere for her. I felt more people slapping me on my back. The words seemed to swirl all around me, coming too fast for me to comprehend. Then one voice broke through all the rest.

“It’s true,” the voice said. “He was clinically dead for, like, twenty minutes. That’s why he can’t talk. He’s like brain-damaged.”

I stopped. I tried to find the source of the voice, but there were too many people crushed all around me. It could have been one of a hundred people.

“Come on,” Griffin said, pushing his way through the crowd. “I think you need some air.” He grabbed me by the elbow and took me out the front door.

I almost fell off the front steps, regained my balance, and stood there blinking in the harsh glow of the porch light.

“You okay?”

I nodded.

“That was quite a show you put on. All of a sudden, you’re the prince of Milford High School.”

I looked at him like, yeah, you’ve been drinking too much beer.

“I think they’re hatching up a crazy idea. Are you up for it?”

Before he could explain, Brian, Trey, and Danny came out through the front door. Brian had taken down the huge MILFORD KICKS ASS banner and was rolling it up.

“We’ve got the most awesome idea, dude. You gotta help us out here. Whaddya say?”

I looked at all of them, one by one.

“Come on,” Brian said. “I’ll explain on the way.”

He led us to his Camaro, parked next to his father’s state trooper car. I couldn’t help but wonder where his father was that night, but there was no time to think about that or anything else because a few seconds later Brian was holding the back door open and waiting for us to pile in.

“Wait a minute,” he said, looking at Griffin. “We only got room for four guys here.”

“Fine,” Griffin said. “We’ll just be on our way, then.”

“Hold the phone,” Brian said. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t be taking this car anyway. It’s kind of conspicuous. You know what I mean?”

“You got a point there,” Trey said. “Everybody in town knows the House’s Camaro.”

“You guys got a car?”

So yeah. That’s how I ended up driving. Brian sat up front with me. Danny, Trey, and Griffin squeezed into the back.

“We’re just gonna play a little joke on somebody,” Brian said to me. He smoothed his hands over the rolled-up banner. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing hardcore.”

I looked in the rearview mirror, caught Griffin’s eye. He put his hands up. Like, why the hell not?

Brian told me to head to the center of town. We rolled down Main Street, past the liquor store. I was still feeling the effects of the Sucker Punch, so I ended up having to brake hard as we passed under the railroad bridge. For one moment I thought with absolute certainty that we’d hit the embankment and we’d all be killed. Then I pulled out of it just in time.

“I hate that fucking bridge,” Brian said. When we hit the edge of town, Brian told me to keep going. We were on a lonely stretch of road now, nothing but trees whizzing by us on both sides. We were heading east.

“You figured out where we’re going now?” Brian said.

I shook my head.

“There’s somebody we really need to give this banner to.”

I shook my head again.

“It’s right up here,” he said. “You’re gonna take a left.”

We came to a sign that said WELCOME TO LAKE SHERWOOD. This was one of the original big subdivisions, built before all the other McMansions started popping up all over the place. More importantly, being in Lake Sherwood meant that we had crossed the line that divided the school district into its two separate parts. Milford High School and Lakeland High School.

“There’s a party up there,” Trey said. “Better be cool.”

“I see it, I see it.” Brian had me stop as we came up on a line of cars parked on the street. We could see the big house with every light on and a swimming pool in the backyard. There were twenty or thirty people having a hell of a party.

“It’s right there,” Brian said, nodding to another house, directly across the street. This house was mostly dark, save for one light in the front window.

“You’re sure they’re gone?” Trey said.

“They’re up at Mackinac Island. A little graduation present for our friend Adam.”

It all made sense now. This was the house of Adam Marsh, Brian’s archrival. The one man he could never beat on the football field or on the wrestling mat.

“I don’t see any of those alarm signs on the front lawn,” Trey said. “You know what I mean? Those signs to let you know the place is wired?”

Brian didn’t answer him. He was too busy unbuttoning his Hawaiian shirt. Underneath, he had on a dark blue T-shirt.

“So Mike,” he said. “Here’s what I want to ask you now. Do you think you can get us inside Adam’s house so we can give him this present?”

I noticed he had the screwdriver in his hand now, the one I had used to open his door. I looked closer and saw the bent safety pin in the other hand.

“We’re just going to string it up in his bedroom. So when he comes home… Bam! There it’ll be. A special little good-bye from his friends at Milford.”

Who couldn’t actually beat him on the football field, I thought. So this is the best they can do.

“Can you imagine?” Trey said. “He is going to shit his pants.”

“Fucking scholarship to Michigan State,” Brian said. “I know he does steroids. Did you see how much he grew since last year?”

“Oh, like no doubt, man. He’s juicing.”

“I’m not so sure about this,” Danny said. It sounded like he had gotten about half sobered up on the way over here. “It’s breaking and entering, isn’t it?”

“We’re not gonna rob the guy. We’re not gonna do anything. Just leave the banner in his bedroom.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Danny said. “I’m just saying.”

Nobody said anything for a minute. I tried to catch Griffin’s eye in the rearview mirror again, but he was staring out his window at the Marshes’ house. In the distance, we could hear the faint sound of the partiers splashing in the pool.

“What about you?” Brian said. “Griffin, right? You’d think I’d remember a fucking name like that. Are you gonna pussy out like Danny? Or are you with us?”

“I’m there,” Griffin said.

Brian turned around and shook Griffin’s hand. “You, sir, are officially no longer an art fag.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wizard. Do I get a diploma like the Tin Man?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Whaddya say?” Brian said, turning back to me. “Are you our man tonight? We can’t do it without you.”

“Do it for the whole school,” Trey said. “It’s our last chance to get this asshole.”

I looked out at the Marshes’ house. The high windows, the perfect lawn. It looked like a castle to me. I couldn’t even imagine living in a house like this.

I opened my door and got out of the car.

“Fuckin’-A,” Brian said.

“I’m staying here,” Danny said. “I’m not going.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Brian said as he closed his door. “We don’t need you.”

So it was the four of us. Brian, Trey, Griffin, and me. Two jocks, two art geeks. The Sucker Punch had almost worn off by now. I was feeling every step with an absolute clarity. We were about to illegally enter somebody else’s house. Somebody I had never even met.

We walked a short way down the street and then slipped behind the fence when we got to it. There were plenty of lights all over the place. Streetlights every hundred feet or so, plus all of the lights that were shining on us from the house across the street. I didn’t know enough yet not to feel exposed. I didn’t know yet that these so-called security lights meant to thwart us were actually our best friends that night. You light up the front of a house, you turn everything else that isn’t directly lighted into a perfect cloak of invisibility. You light up the back of the house, where nobody else can see you anyway, you just make it all that much more convenient for someone trying to break in.

There was a good lock on the back door, but I had it open in two minutes. My three partners all stood there rocking back and forth, looking over their shoulders every few seconds. They didn’t know enough not to be nervous. Nobody had any kind of sight line on us here. We could have set up a net and played volleyball.

When the door was open, we all piled inside. We stood there in the kitchen for a full minute, taking it all in. There was just enough light to see the huge metal stove with the restaurant vent over it. The double refrigerator. The marble countertops that seemed to glow with their own light.

“Fuck,” Brian said. “We’re actually doing this.”

“Let’s go,” Trey said. “Let’s go find his room.”

“I can’t believe this,” Brian said. “This is some heavy duty shit right now.”

“Don’t wuss out, man. Are you coming or not?”

I knew Trey would never dare talk to him that way under any other circumstances. It was my first lesson in how different people react when they find themselves in a situation like this. The guy who did all the talking could suddenly become the one having cold feet. One of the guys along for the ride, he suddenly finds himself getting into it. For whatever reason, he rises to the occasion. Maybe too much. While the other guy along for the ride can’t even get out of the car.

Griffin? I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He just stood there, not making a sound.

And me? I felt nothing. I swear to you, as soon as we stepped foot into that house, everything drained out of me. That ever present buzz, the constant humming from that one moment in my life, playing out in my head, over and over, becoming like a constant static on my internal radio… As soon as I opened the door to a stranger’s house and stepped inside, the static was gone.

I’d get to know that feeling. Or rather that lack of feeling. I’d get to know it very well. On this night, though, I was just standing there in a rich man’s kitchen while Trey gave Brian a little bump to get him moving forward. Griffin still hadn’t moved.

“I think we should just stay right here,” he finally said to me. “Be the lookouts. Whaddya think?”

It was too dark to see his face.

“Okay, maybe this was a mistake,” he said. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have gone along with this. I was just thinking it would be… I don’t know, like something real for once. You know what I’m saying? Didn’t it feel that way?”

I didn’t want to stand there listening to him. I wanted to see more of the house.

“Where are you going?” he said.

I didn’t answer him. I left the kitchen, walked into the living room. There was a fireplace with a big art print hanging over it. A woman in a tight sleeveless dress, hat shading her eyes. Next to her, a sleek black panther on a leash. Real classy.

There was cream-colored leather furniture. There was a television bigger than any I had ever seen. On the opposite side of the room, there was an even bigger aquarium. The air pump was humming away. There was a treasure chest on the bottom, with a lid that would open every few seconds, releasing a stream of bubbles. I counted the fish. There were four of them. I stood there, watching the fish swim back and forth in that bright rectangle.

Until it exploded.

The tidal wave was soaking my pants before I could even process what was happening. A few seconds later, I was looking across at Trey’s face, on the other side of what had just been glass and water. He was holding a long iron poker from the fireplace.

The way he looked down at the ruin he had caused, the cruel smile on his face. How happy this made him, the sheer mindless destruction in that one moment. I hated it. I hated it like a sickness and I knew I’d never forget it.

A voice came hissing down at us, from upstairs. “Trey! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just saying hello to the fish,” Trey said.

“What the hell’s the matter with you? They’re supposed to come inside and be surprised when they see the fucking banner! You just ruined everything!”

“Well, then let’s do something even worse in the bedroom,” Trey said. He winked at me and dropped the poker. Then he went upstairs. I stood there for a while, watching the fish flopping around at my feet. I picked up two and took them to the kitchen.

“What the hell was that?” Griffin said. He hadn’t moved from the door.

I went to the sink, ran some lukewarm water, and then dropped in the fish. I went back into the living room and picked up two more. I put those in the sink and turned the faucet off. All four fish were swimming around now like it was just another day at the office.

“I think we need to get out of here,” Griffin said. “Let’s just leave those idiots here, eh?”

I held up one index finger, left the kitchen again, and went upstairs. I poked my head into the first room. It looked like a sewing room or something. It was untouched.

I kept going down the hall, poked my head into the master bedroom suite. There was a king-sized four-poster bed and two walk-in closets. I took a look in the master bathroom, saw a big whirlpool tub, a separate shower, a marble sink with gold fittings. That’s the kind of house this was.

I stepped into the last bedroom. This was a Lakeland house, remember, so I didn’t know anything about the family. I didn’t know that Adam had a brother. Or at least that was my first thought. I was assuming it was a boy’s room. There were posters all over the walls, for rock bands I had never heard of. Then I noticed that the bedding was bright red, and that there was a big black heart-shaped pillow on it, along with about a dozen stuffed animals.

“Mike! Where are you?” Griffin’s voice coming to me from downstairs. I ignored it. My attention was fixed instead on a large portfolio lying on the dresser. I knew exactly what it was. I had one myself, for carrying my drawings. I untied the string and opened it. Then I reached back to the wall switch and turned on the light.

“Mike! Come on!” The voice louder now. It could have been a megaphone in my ear, I wouldn’t have moved an inch. I was lost in these drawings.

The first was of a young girl, sitting at a table and looking up at something or someone out of the frame, her face showing both fear and hope simultaneously. The next drawing was of two men, standing in an alley, one man lighting a cigarette for the other. The next a simple still life, one single apple sitting alone on a table, with a knife stabbed into the top of it.

The drawings were good. There was talent here. There was something else, too. I remembered something that Mr. Martie had said to me, about how I needed to find a way to put more of myself into my work. Something I tried so hard not to do.

This is it, I thought. This is how you do it. Even if it’s just a drawing of a young girl, or two men smoking, or even just an apple with a knife in it. Whoever had done this work… she was on these pages, too.

I was about to close the portfolio when I noticed the second portfolio that had been lying underneath it. Whereas the one on top had been one of the cheap cardboard portfolios they give you at school, this portfolio on the bottom was made of black leather and had a zipper along three sides. I hesitated for a moment, then unzipped it.

“Mike, we gotta get out of here right now!” The voice was frantic now, but it didn’t register with me. I wouldn’t even hear it until I played the whole scene back in my mind an hour later.

There were several drawings of a woman. Thirty years old, maybe. Very pretty in a sad, used-up kind of way. Long hair tied back. A tight, self-conscious smile. In the first drawing, she was sitting in a chair with her hands folded in her lap. Indoors. In the next, she was sitting on a bench outside, the same look on her face. Like she wasn’t totally comfortable. There were a few more drawings of the same woman. Judging from the different types of paper and the different shades of pencil, I was guessing they had been done over a fairly long period of time. You could even see an improvement in the ability of the artist.

Then the very last drawing… a new subject. Younger. I could tell from the way the paper was worn thin and creased around the edges, by the eraser marks around the eyes and mouth… this was something the artist had worked very hard on, had come back to again and again. I could practically feel the sheer effort, trying to capture something in this simple drawing of one person’s face.

This was her, I realized. This was a self-portrait. I was looking at Amelia’s face for the first time.

From somewhere outside, the sound of tires screeching on asphalt. Then a sweep of headlights across the wall, finally breaking my trance. I dropped the drawing. I went into the hallway and then down the stairs. I could see the car stopped diagonally in the driveway through the front window. I ran out the back door. A mistake. You should find a window on the far side of the house, away from any doors, if you’re going to make a run for it.

There were two of them. They tackled me in the backyard. They knocked the wind out of me. I couldn’t breathe for a full minute. That old familiar feeling coming back to me, from nine years before. You cannot breathe, Mike. You cannot breathe and you are surely going to die.

“Where are the others?” A voice hot in my ear. My breath slowly coming back to me.

“Tell us where they went! Who was with you?”

I didn’t say a word to them. So they just picked me up and hauled me off to the police station.