I almost choked. At the bottom of the drawing was my name scrawled in April's unmistakable curly handwriting. "I didn't ..." But I couldn't bring myself to admit the truth when I saw the admiration in Barlow's face as he looked over the lines of the tree.
"This is an excellent example of your growth and breadth of skill over the years," Barlow said.
"To be honest, I didn't expect to see this level of skill from you before graduation." He pulled out a red pen and marked a bold A+ at the top of the paper. "It is an honor to have you in my class," Barlow said, and handed me both of the drawings. "Now get out of here so I can get some work done."
I stood up and started to walk away. Then I stopped and turned back. My resolve from yesterday returned. "Mr. Barlow?"
He looked up. "Yes?"
"You love to teach students who have a lot of promise, like what you saw in this drawing? You even said it was an honor."
"Yes, I did." Mr. Barlow stroked his mustache and squinted. "What are you getting at?" I walked back to his desk, I took a deep breath and then blurted out, "I didn't do this." I handed him the tree drawing, "Daniel did."
Mr. Barlow sputtered. "You turned in his work!"
"No. This drawing is mine." I held up the teddy bear sketch. "This is the one I turned in. Someone else must have put that one"--I pointed at the drawing in his hands--"in the pile by accident. I'm sorry. I should have told you right away."
Barlow picked up his watercolor pens and shoved them, one by one, back into his handcrafted mug. He dropped the mug on top of a stack of files and then leaned back in his chair. "You say Daniel did this drawing?"
"Yes. He's trying to get into Trenton." Barlow nodded.
"He really needs this class."
"Well, I'll tell you what. If you and your friend meet me here at seven twenty-five sharp, tomorrow morning, I'll have a talk with him and see what I can do." I sprang up on my toes. "Thank you, Mr. Barlow."
"If Daniel misses another day of school, he'll lose his tuition scholarship." He shook his head and muttered, "How he got a scholarship in the first place is beyond me." I cocked my head and smiled. "You're pretty cool, Mr. Barlow." A couple of students filed into the class as the first bell rang.
Mr. Barlow glanced at them. "Don't tell too many people," he said. "And I expect to see a quality resubmission of your assignment by Monday."
Chapter Six Miracle Worker
AFTER SCHOOL
It wasn't until I was eating lunch with April in the art room that I realized the major fallacy of my brilliant plan: somehow I had to actually find Daniel to tell him that Barlow was willing to give him a second chance. All I knew was what apartment building he was "staying in." I didn't have an apartment number or even a way to get downtown. My parents absolutely forbade me from going into the city on my own--let alone to Markham Street. And I'm not exactly a fan of public transportation--April and I both got pick pocketed when we took a bus to the mall in Apple Valley last summer. So somehow I had to finagle one of my parents' cars and a decent alibi. I wasn't a liar by nature. My chest and neck would turn bright red even when I told the slightest fib. Good thing no one bothered to ask how I'd gotten the car running again, or I would have turned into a shiny, blubbering radish. But I figured I might be able to get away with a half-truth when begging a car off my mom.
"I have to meet April at the library." I scratched at the thick wool scarf I'd wrapped around my neck to hide the blotching. "We're working on our research project for English." April and I were scheduled to meet at the library--but not until later.
Mom sighed. "I guess I can go to the grocery store tomorrow. We've got plenty of leftovers."
"Thanks. I probably won't make it home for dinner. I've ... we've got a lot to do." I zipped my coat up to my chin and took the car keys off the table. I was ready to bolt, but Mom reached out and clasped her hand on my forehead.
"Are you feeling okay, honey? You seem flushed."
"I just haven't slept well lately." I hadn't had a full night's sleep since I first saw Daniel on Wednesday. "I gotta run."
"You'll have to take the minivan."
Ugh. It was one thing to come rolling into the city in an old sedan, but it was another to show up in that part of town in my mother's Blue Bubble--that's what April called our royal-blue minivan, which resembled a bubble-gum ball on wheels and screamed "middle-aged mom out to get the groceries." I could just picture the snide look on Daniel's face.
DOWNTOWN
I almost turned the car around three times, I must be crazy, I thought as I navigated through the alleys near Daniel's apartment, I pulled over under the same lamp from Friday night and studied the squatty building across the street--it didn't look quite as ominous in the waning afternoon light. It was constructed of yellowed bricks that looked like rows of rotting teeth with a wide gap in the middle where the front doors must have once stood. Cigarette butts and mucky trash littered the crumbling stoop.
I wasn't too anxious to learn what the inside of that apartment building looked like. What was I supposed to do anyway, go knocking door-to-door, asking if anyone knew a tall, thin guy with the complexion of a ghost who answered to the name of Daniel---and hope that no one felt like taking advantage of a very innocent-looking girl?
I sat and watched the comings and goings of the street and hoped that Daniel might just happen by. I counted five homeless people hurrying along in the direction of the shelter, and at least seven different stray cats bounded down the street as if they were just as anxious to find refuge before nightfall. A black Mercedes with tinted windows pulled slowly to the curb and picked up what appeared to be a very tall man in a miniskirt who'd been fidgeting and pacing on the corner of Markham and Vine for the past thirty minutes.
The street got emptier as the sun sank deeper behind the city smog. Two guys walking in opposite directions paused briefly in front of Daniel's building. They didn't acknowledge each other, but something definitely passed between their hands before they walked on. One of them glanced right at the minivan. I ducked and stayed down for a few seconds and then peeked out the window. Markham was now just as deserted as it had been the other night. I checked the clock on the dash. It was past four thirty p.m.--I hate how early the sun sets in November--and I was going to be late meeting April if I didn't leave right away.