Detours and Designs

by Matt Fazio

  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.”
r />   “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.�
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  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.