Everything was happening so fast that I couldn’t sort it out in my mind. I needed advice, and the only one I could think to call was Nick.

“I’m going around the back of the building,” I said. None of the guys paid much attention to me since they were watching Bo pick up another rock.

He held it in his palm, testing its weight. “You do that, baby. You write a whole novel back there.”

26/356

I hurried to the back of the building. Another smack sounded against the wall. Bo’s friends snorted with laughter.

Bo said, “Hey, in baseball you get three strikes—that’s only two.” I took out my cell phone and dialed Nick’s phone one slow number at a time. I had just gotten the phone and hadn’t programmed the speed dial yet. I leaned against the wall while the phone rang. An angry crash sounded from the other side of the building. Apparently Bo’s aim wasn’t that bad after all.

“Perfect hit,” Bo said, his voice filled with strut and confidence.

“That was the wrong window,” Steve said. “You still owe me a ten.”

Nick picked up. “Hey, Tansy.”

“Bo and his friends are vandalizing city hall and I don’t know what to do.”

Nick paused. “They’re what?”

“They’re spray painting stuff and they broke a window.” Another crashing noise came from the other side of the building. “Make that two windows.”

Nick’s voice sounded incredulous. “On your date?”

“He’s doing it because he cares about me.”

“Sheesh, couldn’t you find a guy who would just give you flowers?”

I paced along the back side of the wall, not even caring that I could hardly see where I was going. “How do I make them stop?”

“Start walking toward our house and I’ll drive down and get you.”

“If I make a big deal about this, Bo will be angry. What if he breaks up with me?”

“And the downside of that would be?”

“I don’t want to be dumped.” My voice choked. “Bo is the only person in the world who cares about me.” 27/356

“Tansy!” I heard Bo yell, but I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know what to say to him yet.

Nick’s voice came over the line. “You know what Bo is doing is wrong or you wouldn’t have called me. You can’t go along with this.” I let out a whimper, but I knew he was right. I would have to tell the guys to stop.

“I don’t want to deal with those miscreants when I pick you up,” Nick said, “so ditch them.”

Miscreants: troublemakers or wrongdoers. In this case, not only an insult but an accurate description.

Nick was right. It was better not to involve him. “You don’t have to pick me up.” I let out a sigh of resignation. “I’ll make Bo take me home. I guess we need to talk about this.” Motorcycles started up and peeled out of the parking lot. Some of the guys must have left. Good, less damage to worry about.

“Your dad is going to freak,” Nick said.

“No, he won’t, because he’s not going to find out.” As soon as I said it, I knew he would. The guys had painted stuff about the library closing onto the side of the building. Was there any way to buy tan paint and cover that up before people got to work in the morning?

I laughed at myself. I hated the mayor, but I would have to spend the night painting city hall in order to cover the graffiti. I was so not cut out to be the bad girl.

I walked slowly back around the corner of the building, trying to phrase what to say to Bo.

Immediately I noticed flashlight beams running across the side of the building. Two guys stood by the wall, illuminating the graffiti—checking their work, I supposed. Using flashlights was a stupid thing to do since we didn’t want to be seen by people on the street. I wondered where Bo had gone.

28/356

I kept walking. Then I realized the two figures weren’t Bo’s friends. Bo and the others were nowhere around. The two figures were policemen.

For a moment I stood frozen to the spot. Every curse word I knew—and some that I made up just for the occasion—went through my mind. Should I run for it or stay frozen and hope the officers didn’t notice me?

I took a slow-motion step backward. Before I could try another, one of the policemen swung his flashlight beam on me.

I dropped the spray can, turned, and fled back the way I’d come.

“Hey!” a policeman barked. “Stop!”

I ran faster. I had no idea where I was going, where I could go, but panic pushed me forward. A cinder block fence edged the back of city hall’s property. It was too tall to climb over. I kept running.

Where had Bo gone? Had they captured him already?

And then the pieces fell in place in my mind. The way he had called my name. The sound of the motorcycles. The fact that I hadn’t seen any motorcycles in the parking lot just now.

Bo had seen the police coming. And he’d left me.

While I was back behind city hall telling Nick that Bo was the only person in the world who cared about me, he’d deserted me. He’d left me to the police.

I was too stunned to even feel angry.

I had nearly run the length of city hall when another policeman stepped around the side of the building, blocking the path in front of me. His flashlight beam trained in on me, blinding me. “Hold it right there,” he panted out. “You’re not going anywhere.” He was right. I couldn’t get around him, and his partner was coming up behind me.

29/356

I held my hand up to shield my eyes. The policeman in front of me became a blur against the light, but I could tell he was shaking his head in disgust. “You’re in a heap of trouble. You know that, don’t you?”

I did. I was in trouble. And Bo didn’t care about me.

Chapter 2

The police car was parked close to the street. The officers made me walk to it with my hands on the back of my head. I thought this was the most humiliating moment in my life, until they had me stand, feet apart, with my hands pressed against the side of the car. Then one of the police officers frisked me with the back of his hands. Which is still pretty much like being felt up by an old man. All this while a stream of cars drove by. I could tell the drivers were watching me because they slowed way down. I prayed none of them were kids from school.

In the reflection of the car window, I noticed my french braid hadn’t worked to keep my hair in place. A big strand had pulled loose.

Well, that was going to look great in a mug shot.

After Officer A-little-too-eager-to-frisk-teenage-girls made sure I didn’t have any weapons shoved in my clothes, he handcuffed my hands behind my back and made me sit in the police car. He had a bulge of fat underneath his chin and only the suggestion of hair draped over the top of his head. Leaning into the car to look at me, he said,

“So did you do this by yourself, or did your friends help?” I had no friends. I didn’t say anything, just looked straight ahead.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. The handcuffs were too tight and bit into my wrists. I opened and shut my hands, trying to ease the pinch.

He had taken my cell phone from my pocket when he frisked me, and he flipped it open. I wondered if he was going through my text messages with Bo. He wouldn’t find my name from that. Bo called me Babe.

31/356

The officer snapped my phone shut. “Your parents will need to come pick you up. If you don’t give us your name, you’re going to be at the station for a long time.”

I still didn’t say anything. I had the right to remain silent.

He sneered and leaned closer. I caught the smell of stale coffee on his breath. “You hoodlums always think you’re so tough. Takes a lot of guts to break windows. You’re real brave coming out after dark to spray paint buildings.” His voice gained momentum. “You’re nothing but a messed-up punk who can make this easier, or who can sit there glaring and make it harder.”