Detours and Designs

by Matt Fazio

  Jeff rolled his eyes, obviously unamused by Tommy’s bright idea.

  “Well,” said Drew, “maybe you should try that. I mean, we don’t have a better idea.”

  “No, man, I’m not saying that! Besides, Mrs. Steinbeck would probably call my mom to make sure it’s true. She’d probably want a note from my doctor or something.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” said Drew. “But changing seats might not be a bad idea. Maybe there’s another way …”

  “I dunno, man. Mrs. Steinbeck’s so strict about everything, you know? If I ask her to change my seat, she’ll still need to know why, right? Besides, the whole class is full, so there’s no extra seats. Someone else would have to move too, and she’ll never let that happen.”

  “Eh, good point,” said Drew. “I just don’t know what to do. And what was up with him knowing that answer today?”

  “I dunno.”

  “He probably accidently learned something copying off you,” Tommy joked.

  The boys laughed and began shooting basketball. A few others came down to play along, and without a word, the boys knew their conversation was over.

  A few more days passed. The Trevor issue continued to weigh on Drew’s mind, but he couldn’t imagine what Jeff was going through. Thursday night, as Drew told his mom he was up in his room studying, he was actually plotting how to get his friend out of this mess. After hours of brainstorming, he finally figured it out: the perfect plan. Mrs. Steinbeck wouldn’t know Jeff was helping Trevor cheat, Drew’s parents and Jeff’s parents would never find out, and Jeff wouldn’t get thrashed by Trevor. The problem would be eliminated.

  And best of all, Drew thought, nobody gets hurt.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, as though he were trying to feel the sand from the drawing in his science book. Though he didn’t understand how, the picture continued to soothe him. With the picture in his head and the imaginary sand between his fingers, he fell asleep.

  ****

  The next day, just before Mrs. Steinbeck began her pre-quiz ritual, Drew walked to the front of the room to grab a tissue. Many students had their ears covered and their eyes glued to their books. Concentrating on getting a few extra minutes of studying in before the quiz, his classmates didn’t even seem to notice that he had stood up. Even Trevor appeared to be studying.

  With his pencil in his left hand, Drew blew his nose and walked back toward his seat. But before reaching his destination, he dropped the pencil. He quickly scanned the room and saw that nobody was paying attention to him. So, as planned, he knelt down to pick up his pencil with his left hand, and with his right hand he slid a small piece of paper onto Trevor’s chair next to his leg. Drew’s heart started beating hard. He quickly sat down and tried to collect his wits before anyone noticed.

  “When I tell you, you will turn your paper over and begin your quiz. Keep your eyes on your own paper. You have fifteen minutes, and your time begins … now.”

  Drew’s nervous hand trembled. He could barely fill in the bubbles without scribbling outside the lines. Mrs. Steinbeck circled the room like a hawk.

  To Drew’s dismay, she didn’t see the paper sticking out from under Trevor’s pant leg on her first round. Once her back was turned again, Jeff dropped his left arm. Trevor didn’t react, but Drew assumed he was just being careful. The big bully’s been cheating so much that he’s actually getting pretty good at it.

  On Mrs. Steinbeck’s second lap, she stopped next to Trevor’s desk and said, “Mr. Lambert, a word.”

  Trevor looked stunned.

  “Uh, yes, Mrs. Steinbeck?” he said in his most polite voice.

  By this point, most of the other students’ attention had shifted from their quizzes to Trevor. Drew, afraid of arousing suspicion from Mrs. Steinbeck, did his best to look as confused as everyone else. His heart was pumping so hard that he half-suspected she could hear it.

  “What is under your leg, Mr. Lambert?”

  “My leg?” Trevor felt around on his seat and found the little piece of paper. He picked it up, looked at the words written on it, and closed his eyes. Drew could see the giant’s oversized hands shaking as he held the paper.

  “What, may I ask, is that?” said Mrs. Steinbeck. Her words hung in the air, demanding to be answered.

  “It’s …” Trevor’s desperate eyes searched the room for a lifeline. His classmates stared back at him, amazed at the horror of the situation. Drew looked out the window, afraid that eye contact with the bully would give him away.

  Mrs. Steinbeck held out her hand, and Trevor placed the crinkled paper in her palm. She took the paper and examined it carefully. Then she scanned the room herself, looked back down at Trevor, and said, “Thank you for not making this any more difficult. At least you didn’t lie about it, too. Go to the principal’s office, Mr. Lambert.”

  Trevor’s mouth opened but his vocal chords continued to betray him. Finally surrendering, he gathered his things, averted his watery eyes from his classmates, and left the room.

  The last remaining sound in the room was the reverberation from Trevor shutting the door. The students’ heads turned from the boy, to the door, and now to the only person standing. Mrs. Steinbeck once again cast her gaze over the rest of the students, this time for several awful seconds. Then she picked up the cheater’s quiz from his desk, held it in front of her by pinching the top with her index fingers and thumbs, and tore it in half. The ripping of the single piece of paper shattered the silence and struck fear into every student in the room. Then Mrs. Steinbeck simply looked at her watch and said to the class, “Six minutes left. I suggest you continue with your work.”

  Drew couldn’t believe it. His plan had worked. He was filled with a mixture of feelings: pride, relief, and also confusion. When he envisioned how the events would unfold, he figured Trevor would make a scene and lash out. It was strange that he didn’t put up a fight. But as puzzling as that was, Drew was too satisfied with how wonderfully things turned out to worry about it. Now, Jeff wouldn’t get beat up or get caught cheating, and no one had to know how the cheat sheet ended up with Trevor. Drew had decided the night before that he wouldn’t tell anyone – not even Jeff – that he was the one who planted the cheat sheet on Trevor. He felt like the runner who had helped Mr. Johnston, not needing the recognition to do the right thing. Like Mr. Sawyer said, the deed is everything, the glory is nothing.

  At lunch, the boys couldn’t wait to get to the playground to talk, so they whispered at the lunch table.

  “Can you believe that big dummy? He’s so stupid that he tried to use a cheat sheet on top of copying,” said Tommy.

  “I’m just glad I’m out of this mess,” said Jeff. “Now that he got caught cheating, Mrs. Steinbeck and every other teacher will watch every move he makes. Even Trevor wouldn’t be dumb enough to cheat again.”

  Drew barely contributed to the conversation. His joy was in knowing that he had saved Jeff from serious trouble. He did stop to think that he didn’t study last night because he was concentrating on his plan, but he was okay with it. A failed quiz was worth helping out his best friend.

  The three boys ended up playing video games the majority of the weekend. Things were finally back to normal. The tension and worrying of the previous few weeks was gone for good, and Drew knew it was all thanks to him.

  ****

  Monday morning, Drew settled into his seat in science class, his body still overheated after an intense game of capture-the-flag in gym class. As Mrs. Steinbeck began taking attendance, he noticed that Trevor’s seat was empty. He wasn’t in gym, either, he realized. Then he turned his attention to his science book. He opened to the drawing of the ocean shore and wondered which of the previous owners could have drawn the magnificent picture. He was paying just enough attention to Mrs. Steinbeck to say “here” when his name was called.

  He thought he’d better copy the five potential artists’ names onto another piece of paper so
he could carry it around with him. But before he could do so, he heard Mrs. Steinbeck say something strange: “Trevor … well, obviously he will not be with us today.”

  The heat that had disappeared from Drew’s body came flooding back. His nerves were on fire and his heart was beating fast, similar to when he had planted the cheat sheet on Trevor’s chair. He frantically tried to dissect what she had said. If she emphasized “obviously” then she knows he’ll be gone for a while, but if she emphasized “today,” maybe he’s just sick.

  Drew thought about talking to Jeff and Tommy about Trevor’s absence at lunch but figured neither of them would care. Besides, he was desperate to keep his secret. He realized that he couldn’t even tell this to his best friends – not ever.

  Suddenly, a short, pudgy classmate named Jonathan came rushing over to their table.

  “Tell me you guys heard,” Jonathan said, out of breath yet still attempting to whisper.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Tommy.

  “About Trevor,” Jonathan clarified. “He got suspended for cheating on that science quiz. He might even get kicked out of school for good.”

  “Are you serious?” asked Jeff.

  “Yeah, he was using cheat sheets all year,” said Jonathan. “Everyone knows it. He had to come to school over the weekend to have a meeting with Mrs. Steinbeck and the principal.” Jonathan was obviously happy to find an audience for his gossip.

  “Man, how bad would that be? My parents would kill me if they caught me cheating,” said Tommy, laughing.

  “Yeah,” Jonathan continued, “and his parents aren’t gonna let him play football anymore. Jada lives on his street, and she said she was talking to Trevor’s sister, and Trevor’s sister said she had to leave the house because Trevor was getting screamed at so bad. But –”

  “Boys,” boomed a voice from behind them, “I didn’t hear you talking about rumors, did I? That will not be tolerated, not even in the lunchroom. Mind your own business.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Barker,” said the boys. Without another word, Jonathan waddled back to his normal seat.

  Mr. Barker’s words reminded Drew that the school had recently begun a new campaign against rumors. The entire school had an assembly at the beginning of the year. They watched a short video about the problems rumors can cause, and then a guest speaker, a young woman just out of college, talked about rumors. There were now flyers posted all over the school that said “Rumors Ruin Lives,” and Drew knew this was important to remember. He also knew that at least one thing Jonathan said wasn’t true. Trevor hadn’t been using a cheat sheet all year long – he hadn’t been using a cheat sheet at all.

  As Drew ate his peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the silent lunch table – all the boys now afraid to make a sound – he looked around. He saw a yellow-haired girl walking to the lunch line from the middle school side of the cafeteria. In her left hand was a pink notebook on which the name Skylar Jansen was written in neat, sparkly letters. Every time Drew had seen Skylar, he had been with Tommy and Jeff. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to her alone – until now.

  “I’m gonna grab another chocolate milk,” he said, hopping up from his chair. He had seen Jason twice since discovering he was a potential artist, but both times he chickened out and was unable to ask him. Jason was intimidating, but something about Skylar seemed friendlier to Drew. Besides, luck had been going his way.

  “Hey, you’re Skylar, right?” he said without an ounce of nervousness.

  She looked down at her folder, which she was now holding close to her chest with her left arm. “How’d you guess?”

  Her sarcastic tone may have thrown Drew off on another day, but not today. After all this time, he was still no closer to finding the Mystery Artist, and he wasn’t going to blow this chance.

  “I think I have your science book. I mean, the one you had last year.”

  “Is that so?” she said, sounding uninterested.

  “Yeah, and I don’t like science class, but I love the book. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but there’s this awesome drawing in there.”

  Skylar’s expression changed. A glow seemed to flicker in her light green eyes.

  “It’s a drawing of a beach,” Drew continued with growing excitement. “It’s just in pencil, but it’s one of the best pictures I’ve ever seen.”

  “I loved that picture,” said Skylar, smiling. “When I got bored in Mrs. Steinbeck’s class I would always flip to page …”

  “One thirty-nine,” Skylar and Drew said in unison.

  Drew couldn’t believe it! His search was over. He had found the Mystery Artist.

  “So, are you the artist?” he asked, positive the answer was yes. He was already preparing to thank Skylar for drawing the picture.

  “Oh, no, I’m not an artist. But I did like the picture,” she said, glancing over at her lunch table, as if she were checking to see if her friends were still there.

  “Oh,” said Drew. The simple words crushed him, but he decided to keep talking to Skylar. After all, she did like the picture, and it’s always nice to find someone who likes the same things you do. They talked a little about the picture, and Drew told her about passing her house every day because of the bridge closure.

  “Yeah, there are so many people passing by my house ever since they closed that bridge,” she said. “It’s kinda funny. I people-watch from my front porch sometimes.”

  Drew considered telling her about his search, but as soon as she paid for her soft pretzel, she said, “See ya,” and hurried back to her table.

  Drew was greeted at his table by the shocked faces of Jeff and Tommy. They couldn’t believe he had just talked to an older girl. And not just any older girl – this was Skylar Jansen. Drew didn’t see it like that, though. He was simply on his mission. And although Skylar wasn’t the Mystery Artist, Drew was now one step closer to finding out who was.

  During Spanish class that afternoon, he wrote the five potential artists’ names on a blank notecard he found in his locker. Then he crossed out Skylar Jansen’s name with a black marker. Without Señora Machado noticing, Drew pulled his wallet from his pocket. The wallet was one of his most prized possessions, given to him by his cousin Peter, who lived in Florida. Last summer, when Drew and his mom were visiting Drew’s grandparents in Orlando, Peter bought a sleek new wallet at the mall and gave Drew the old one.

  The wallet was worn and well-used, but it was still functional. The brown leather was smoother in some sections than in others. When the tri-fold wallet unfolded there was a small pouch on the right flap that could only be opened by a button-like snap. Drew had been keeping his loose change in the pouch, but he quietly removed the coins and slid them into his pocket. Then he put his list inside his wallet’s hidden pouch. He wiggled the wallet back into his pocket and tried to refocus his attention on class, but all he could think about now was how much closer he was to finding the Mystery Artist.

  ****

  Drew stowed away in his room until his mom called him down for dinner. The meal was already on the table as Drew sat down.

  “We’re eating a little early tonight because I have plans, remember?” said Penny.

  “Yeah.”

  “And I was running a little late getting ready, so we only have about fifteen minutes before your dad comes to pick you up.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “So what happened with Trevor Lambert?”

  Drew stared at his mom in amazement, a string of spaghetti dangling from his mouth.

  “Mrs. Gray called me to ask about the next PTA meeting and ended up telling me Trevor got suspended. That’s why I’m running late.” She leaned over and poured some milk into Drew’s glass. Drew remained quiet.

  “Well, are you going to tell me what happened?” his mom asked playfully.

  “I don’t know. I think he got caught with a cheat sheet or something.”

  Drew shoved more spaghetti into his mouth, hoping to avoid answering any more questio
ns. He kept his eyes down, but he could feel his mom’s gaze on him. He expected her to rattle off more questions, but none came.

  “My friend Donna – you’ve met her – she and I are going to see a play tonight. I haven’t been out with her in two years, and we’ve been planning this night ever since we heard A Doll’s House was being performed downtown. We both love that play.”

  “If you’ve already seen it, why do you wanna see it again?” Drew asked, temporarily forgetting that they had been talking about Trevor seconds ago.

  “Why do you watch your favorite zombie movies over and over again? Part of the reason is because it’s simply enjoyable. But more than that, the play is different every time I see it. The first time I saw it I was about fifteen, and I thought it was about women’s rights. Then when I was eighteen I thought it was about individuality and the pursuit of finding yourself. The last time I saw it, about five years ago, I thought it was about selfishness.”

  “So which one is right?” Drew asked.

  “That’s the beauty of it, Drew. It’s all of them. I’m interested to see what I think this time. See, it depends what perspective you’re looking at something from. Sometimes, if you look at a situation from one view, you think you can see who’s good and who’s bad. But then, if you look at it from another person’s view, the roles are reversed. You have to think about something more than once if you really want to understand it. Maybe I’m not making any sense. Either way, finish up your dinner. Your dad will be here soon.”

  While Drew and his mom finished their spaghetti, Drew thought about what she had said. Maybe he needed to view this situation from another perspective. Maybe from Trevor’s perspective, Drew was the bad guy.

  As Penny was cleaning up the kitchen, there was a knock at the door.

  “That’s your dad. Let him in, then go upstairs and get everything you need for tonight. And your medicine is right here on the table. Don’t forget it.”