“This is so super-amazing!” Saanvi squeals—quietly. There’s a great blue heron poised at the edge of the pond.
“How did you find this place?” Miranda whispers.
“It’s been here for years.”
“The city should make it a park!” she says.
It’s the perfect time of day to visit. The afternoon light is starting to fade, turning the remaining blossoms golden pink. Since I was last here, a carpet of white and purple crocuses has bloomed.
Without me directing them further, the girls meander through the Japanese maples to the group of large stones by the edge of the water. They each choose a perch.
Then they look at me.
My mouth suddenly goes dry, but Saanvi reaches to press her sneaker against mine. I decide the best way is to plunge, as if I’m diving into the overgrown pond.
I look straight at Miranda. “I’ve been painting some graffiti in the hallways, to draw attention to the problems caused by cameras in our classrooms, and by the school’s social media policies.”
“That was you?” Her eyes widen.
I nod.
“I loved the thing about the panopti…whatever,” she says.
There’s a crack from the direction of the fence and we all leap to our feet.
Someone wearing a hoodie…
“Holden!” My voice is embarrassingly close to a squeal, but whatever. No one notices, anyway. Saanvi and Miranda hug him. He gives me a shy wave.
“Nice entrance,” I say, as he chooses the rock beside mine and we all sit down again. “You’ve decided to join us?”
He shrugs. “Just think how excited my mom will be when she hears I’m doing group work.”
“I’m sure this is exactly what she has in mind…”
We’re interrupted by a ding, which seems extra loud and out of place in the overgrown garden.
Miranda pulls her phone from her purse, checks it, and stands.
“I’ll be right back.”
“What? Where are you going?”
We watch her hop daintily toward the fence. Then, a moment later, we watch in stunned silence as she returns…with Max. As usual, his camera’s slung around his neck.
We all leap to our feet again.
“What is he doing here?” Saanvi demands.
“He can help,” Miranda says.
“Absolutely not,” Saanvi says.
Max throws his hands in the air as if he’s facing a SWAT team. “Whoa. Anyone ever told you guys you’re not great at hospitality?”
Saanvi literally growls.
“Look, it’s fine,” Miranda says.
I frown at her. “It’s not really fine, Miranda. This is a private meeting and we’ve already told you private things.” I knew involving other people was a terrible idea. “Max, we’re talking about the photos and the videos. I know you covered for me that day in the darkroom, but you’re still on the wrong side of this issue.”
“Massively and enormously,” Saanvi spits.
“He covered for you?” Holden asks.
Max smirks. “Holden’s on the wrong side, too.”
“I was undercover!”
“Well, so is Max,” Miranda says. “He brought me information weeks ago about Josh’s game, and…”
“I’m not staying. Not with someone who helped post those videos of us,” Saanvi says, grabbing her bag.
“I didn’t post those,” Max says.
Saanvi pauses, but she’s glaring at him so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t burst into flames.
“Look, Josh is a show, dude. A one-man entertainment machine. And it’s not like I love being stuck in class all day, so yeah—I get sucked in, sometimes.”
Even under Saanvi’s death stare, he’s smooth. As one part of my brain is preparing to kick him out, the other part is admiring the way he stays calm under pressure. He could be useful…
“Don’t pin that forum stuff on me,” he’s saying. “Maybe I looked at it, like everybody else. But technology’s not my thing. Plus, I live with my mom and my two sisters. They would freak if I was into that stuff. My dad still lives in Hong Kong, but he’d hop a jet right back here to murder my butt. Here, look, this is his disappointed face…”
Max pulls his cheeks into jowls and then grimaces out at us.
I have to fight against a smile.
Saanvi’s not won over.
“So you stood around while Josh posted the videos. Does that make you innocent?” she asks.
“Well, yes. I told him that one of you and Holden was mean, but Ana had already put it together, and Josh thought it was hilarious, and—”
“Wait…Ana?” Saanvi interrupts.
“What does Ana have to do with this?” I say, at the same time.
“She’s not exactly a fan of yours.” Max raises his eyebrows at me, as if this is obvious. “How do you think she got her own video removed?”
“SHE TRADED HER VIDEO FOR MINE?”
“And mine?” Saanvi echoes.
“Yours wasn’t part of the original trade,” Max tells Saanvi. “She just made it for fun.”
I knew something was up with Ana. But I’m so appalled by the pure evilness of that, I have to plop back down on my rock. “What in the whole gargantuan universe did we ever do to her?”
Miranda shakes her head. “You didn’t know? Max is right…she kind of hates you. I think she’s a bit…competitive? And maybe jealous?”
“Of what?” Saanvi spits.
“She doesn’t have a lot of friends, and you guys are always shutting her down.”
“She wants my friends?” I ask.
“We’re always what?” Saanvi looks just as confused as I am.
“I kinda thought she must have a crush on Holden or something,” Max says. “That would explain the Saanvi and Holden video.”
Holden puts his hands out, as if to say he can’t help it if the world falls in love with him.
Argh. We’re supposed to be focusing here. And not on Holden’s many conquests.
Fortunately, Miranda’s talking again. “See, Max has already brought you valuable information. Can we get on with this meeting now?”
Everyone looks at me. But I’m not the only one whose video went viral. I turn to Saanvi. “What do you think?”
She pauses for a long moment.
“I drew the beavers,” Max blurts.
We simultaneously turn to stare at him.
“Beavers?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“You know, the one by the library, and the two by the janitor’s room?”
“Those were beavers?” Saanvi says.
“They’re from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. That’s my favorite book,” Max says. “Remember how the beavers help Lucy and Peter and Susan escape the secret-police wolves?”
He is full of surprises. I can’t help smiling at him now. And the beavers from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe are a perfect response to our White Witch of a principal. I wish I’d drawn them.
“I wore a really big hoodie, and I did them as fast as I could,” he says. “So they didn’t turn out perfectly, but…”
I look to Saanvi.
“He brought us cheesecake in the caf that day. And it wasn’t poisoned,” she mutters.
Which is something, but not everything. “If we let you stay, will you be playing for both sides, or for our side?” I ask Max.
“Your side,” Max says quickly. “Look, I started hanging out with Josh when I got to The Mitch a couple years ago. We’re both on the basketball team. But you guys are my sort of people. If you’ll have me, I’m totally in.”
I point to his camera. “Absolutely no pictures of this meeting.”
“No problem, dude.”
I have to admit, he’s kind of adorable, in an overgrown-puppy sort of way. Maybe he did end up in Josh’s c
rowd because the rest of us didn’t bother to welcome him.
“Fine. Let’s get on with things.”
I can’t believe there are five of us now. At this rate, we may as well invite all the neighbors and maybe a few random strangers from the street.
“Okay, can you tell us what we’re doing here?” Miranda prompts. She has her pen ready.
This time, I dive in without thinking. “We’re planning more street art.”
Max lifts one eyebrow. “More?”
“As in, breaking the law?” Miranda asks.
“It’s not too late to leave,” Holden tells them.
“Holden, don’t be mean,” Saanvi says. She moves to sit closer to Miranda.
“I posted the squirrel with Josh’s face,” Miranda blurts.
There’s an audible chorus of gasps.
“That was awesome,” Holden says.
Wow. This group has all sorts of secrets.
I look around the circle. “It’s not too late for anyone to leave. We’re going to do this the right way, and it’s going to be big.”
“This is great,” Miranda says, already taking notes. “I’m not leaving.”
I glance at Max.
“All in,” he says.
A siren sounds close by, and the heron finally takes off from the pond in a frantic flapping of wings. It’s possible this is a sign, and we should all go home. But then we’d be letting them all get away with it…the school, Josh, Ana.
“I’ve been reading about this British street artist named Banksy—”
“What’s a street artist?” Max asks.
“Graffiti,” Holden says.
“It’s not graffiti! Well, it’s kind of graffiti. But with a purpose. Like a mission…”
That sounds stupid. I mumble to a stop.
“Tell them about the stuff Banksy’s done,” Saanvi prompts.
Deep breath. “Well, there was this one he did in Britain, right underneath these huge security cameras on the side of a building. The cameras there are called CCTV, and he wrote ONE NATION UNDER CCTV in giant block letters on the wall. And even though the cameras were right there, no one could identify him.”
My hands are waving around while I talk but I can’t stop them and, after a few minutes, I don’t want to. I tell them about Banksy’s pictures of migrants in Paris. I tell them about the truck he filled with moving, squealing stuffed animals, apparently on their way to a slaughterhouse. The “Sirens of the Lambs” drove all over New York.
“If he can create all those works without getting caught, we can evade one school security system and do something huge at the open house,” I finish breathlessly.
For a minute, they all stare at me. Even Holden is leaning into the group.
Saanvi looks around. “We’re thinking Banksy must have assistants. Like a team of secret agents keeping a lookout, or photographing his work.”
Saanvi’s the only one who knows my plan so far. After Holden left us in the library yesterday afternoon, we sorted through a lot of details.
I nod. “Miranda, we’re going to need press coverage, or everyone might ignore the art, and the school will cover it up again.”
“I’m on it,” she says. She’s wearing a Cheshire-cat grin, and I find myself grinning back at her before I can stop myself.
“If this goes big enough, I can get my mom involved,” she says.
“That would be seriously amazing,” Saanvi says.
“What about me? What can I do?” Max says.
It’s possible we’ve asked a Labrador retriever to join our secret-agent team.
“You can take photos.”
“You said no pictures,” he says.
“No pictures today. Obviously we’re going to need shots of the work in progress and some of the finished piece. We’ll post them with Miranda’s write-ups and give them to any other media people we can reach.”
When he clears his throat, I brace for more excuses.
“Dude, I think we could make this even, um…,” he says.
We all stare at him.
“Bigger?” Miranda says finally.
He nods. Silently.
We wait.
“Alright, bud. What’s your plan?” Holden prompts.
Max quickly sketches out his idea. He’s only known about the project for two minutes, so of course he doesn’t have the finer points worked out. But it’s a good concept. It’s a really good concept. I can see everyone getting excited as we all throw in our own suggestions.
“I’ll have to talk to Ms. Sutton and change my project idea, but I think she’ll go for it. Assuming we don’t tell her all the details.” He grins.
“So, we’ll use the three videos,” Holden says. “Dom’s, Miranda’s, and Marcus’s.”
“We should really ask Marcus,” Miranda says.
“He hasn’t been at school since the whole forum thing blew up. I think he might have quit The Mitch,” I tell them.
“Because his fly was open? That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Holden says.
I remember the way my stomach felt like it had disappeared the morning he and Saanvi showed me my video. And I think of how shy Marcus always seemed.
“It might not seem like a big deal to you, but to him…”
“Okay, let’s get back to the main plan,” Saanvi urges.
Marcus is quickly forgotten as we talk details. This is going to be mind-blowing. This is way more impressive than even Saanvi thought possible.
“We need a full press strategy,” Miranda says. “I’ll have to bring the blog back to life, and find a way to promote this.”
“Good luck with that. I think Principal Plante hates you,” I say.
When Miranda smiles, it’s not her regular good-girl smile. This version’s kind of evil. “Yeah, but Saanvi’s a computer genius, right? And we’re going to need to access the foyer cameras anyway, for Max’s plan. I was thinking if we had administrator access to the blog, and if Principal Plante didn’t…”
I can see Saanvi considering. “Loop the foyer cameras, so no one sees what we’re doing, and steal back your blog access.”
We all wait for her verdict.
“I need to get onto Principal Plante’s computer.”
I need a paper bag so I can sit in a corner and breathe into it like a cartoon character.
But then Holden’s asking Max something about timing for a meeting, Saanvi’s talking to herself, Miranda’s frantically scribbling in her notebook, and even though we’re all still sitting in the abandoned lot, I can feel this thing ballooning bigger and bigger.
This is what I wanted, I remind myself. I wanted something too big to ignore.
“Can we have a super-secret-society name?” Saanvi asks.
“No,” Holden says.
“The Banksy Five,” she suggests, eyes sparkling.
I look at Holden, waiting for him to bail again, now that she’s given him the opening. He doesn’t.
“You’re definitely in?”
“Someone has to keep you all from disaster,” he says. “Besides, most of you are height challenged. You need me.”
I smile across at him, and then we’re all grinning at one another like idiots as the sun fades and the heron swoops back to the pond’s edge.
For the first time, I think we might have a chance.
* * *
—
I wander up the stairs to my building, my head still spinning. If we’re going to pull this off, there are a thousand things to plan, and—
I’m about to click my key fob and open the glass doors to the lobby when I spot George inside, standing at the concierge’s desk with a fifty-dollar bill in her hand. I watch as she passes it to Lou. After he tucks it into his shirt pocket, he leans forward to say something. George pats his cheek, the same way she does to Pierre at La Patisserie.
What is goin
g on? I can’t imagine anyone wanting to pat Lou’s cheek, and I can’t see any reason for George to be giving him money.
I pull open the doors and catch up to my grandma at the elevator.
“Hello, darling! How was your study group?” She smiles as if I’ve single-handedly brightened her day.
I try to stay immune. “George, why did you give money to Lou?”
Her smile flickers. “Oh, well, a little tip. He works hard, that Lou.”
Lou does not work hard. He does sudoku all day.
There are puzzle pieces in my brain again. Piece: George knew about Frank and I didn’t tell her. Piece: she knows when Holden and Saanvi visit. Piece: she always seems to know when Mom’s out late.
The elevator arrives and I follow my grandma inside. Though we both face forward, I can see her reflection in the mirrored wall.
“Did Lou tell you I was at a study group?”
“He mentioned you’d left with a group of kids from school, darling. I probably assumed the study group part. Why all the questions?”
I hesitate. I can tell she’s lying. But am I brave enough to accuse George? Just blurt it out?
“Because I don’t really believe you, I guess.”
It appears I am. Maybe I’m turning into Saanvi.
“Dominica, that’s—”
She stops as the elevator doors slide open. Mom’s been cooking. I smell bacon as soon as we step into the hallway.
“You’re just in time, Dominica!” she calls when I open the apartment door. “I’m trying a new frittata recipe.”
“George is here,” I call back. “And she’s been spying on us.”
“That’s rather hasty,” George says.
Mom appears, wearing oven mitts. “Did you say spying?”
“She’s paying Lou to keep an eye on us.”
“Really, Dominica,” George sputters. “You’ve jumped to conclusions.”
This is true. But I can tell by her face that I’ve jumped to the correct conclusion.
“That’s how she knew about Frank, and that you met at yoga class.”
“You didn’t tell her?” Mom asks.
I shake my head. We both turn to stare at George.
Then the fire alarm goes off. Literally.
“Oh! My bacon!”
Mom runs to the stove. George races to open our windows, and I grab a couch cushion to flap at the smoke detector. Mom joins me with a second cushion, and—finally—the noise stops.
Me and Banksy Page 15