On Edge (12 page)

I didn't need to answer but I nodded anyway.

“Because I was with a buddy the night Heather died, I was cleared, but I had a lot of guilt back then because whoever killed her was a writer. And that's my territory, yanno?”

“How do you know it was a writer?”

“She'd been partnering a piece with someone, I'm sure of it—a present for me, I think, since it was a scene I'd tried to paint on my own but my work kept getting erased before I could finish. The only way Heather could've succeeded where I failed…”

“Is if she had someone with her.” I nodded as I spoke. “Makes sense.”

“Since Heather had no enemies—”

“Do you think it was someone who was after you?”

He nodded and then sighed. “Some overprotective brother I turned out to be. I squeezed so hard trying to keep her from making mistakes, I probably brought on her death.”

“Come on. That seems a bit harsh.” I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Seriously, Brennen, you can't think like that.”

“I can't? She was supposed to be home that night!” He must've realized he was raising his voice, because he took a deep breath and started again, a little more calm. “She loved sketching animals and was good at anything musical—piano, violin, you name it she could play it. She gave all that up. Years of work! I had no idea what she was into anymore, and it scared me. She died because I told on her for lying about being out with Liv the night before and she got grounded. I thought it was good because her behavior had been changing so much in that last month. I don't know…maybe she was just growing but, I hated it.”

“You didn't like who she she'd become?” I asked. A part of me could relate hard to the confusion I felt coming off Haze. I disliked who Warp was becoming, and there wasn't much I wouldn't do to try to change him back.

Haze continued, “Back then, I told myself that I didn't like who she was forcing herself to be. That's how I saw it. Someone, or something was bringing about these changes in her. She was sneaking out almost every night. She did her hair differently. She listened to different music. Looking back, I have to admit she seemed happier, but I didn't think of it as her maturing. I thought she was smoking dope or something. I truly felt like I knew nothing about her anymore. Hell, I didn't even know she was attempting graffiti until after she died. She was always the same, always. But then, toward the end, she was adventurous, daring. Wild-hair and all.”

“She sounds a little like, me.”

“The difference is that I hated rebellion on her. On you, I find it cute because your crazy adventurous nature is who you are. My sister was being something she wasn't.” He shook his head, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “At least, something I thought she wasn't.”

“I think I remember reading somewhere that she'd snuck out the night she died and your parents said it was unlike her.”

“It was unlike her before she hit puberty. Honestly, my parents don't know just how often she used to sneak out, and I'll never tell them. They'd only blame themselves.”

I felt so sad for him. He had so much guilt on his shoulders. “Like you blame yourself. Bren, I think you should talk to them.”

He shook his head in answer to my suggestion. “It was me who noticed she was gone the night she died. I came home late because I was out with one of my buddies. I could hear music coming from her room. Not classical like she used to play when she was upset and needed to think. But alternative rock. I figured she was mad at me for getting her grounded, so I went to apologize and see if I could get her to talk to me. When she didn't answer my knock, I went in. She wasn't there, so I rode my bike to Liv's, and she was as mystified and worried as I was.

“I called my crew and we all spent all night looking for Heather and didn't find her. When the sun started to come up, I went home, hoping she would be there and we had just missed each other. But instead, there was a cop car in my driveway. It could've caught her out at night and brought her home—but I just knew that wasn't why they were there.”

I watched his neck tighten with emotion and reached out to clasp his hand with both of mine this time. “She would've snuck out grounded or not. You said yourself she'd done it many times.”

“Yes, but she snuck out, to create a piece…for my birthday. When they found her, they found the piece and it was exactly what I'd envisioned. It was…she should've been mad at me for getting her grounded…she should've…”

When he turned his head up to the sky I could see the liquid pain streaming down his face. He didn't sob, or sniffle, just faced the pain and let it flow. I cried, too, for him. For Heather. For several minutes, neither one of us said anything.

Drawing a deep breath, he leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You and Warp remind me of my relationship with my sister. Maybe in his eyes, you're changing, and he's freaking out thinking I'm painting pictures of you everywhere. He thinks I'm trying to threaten you and he's bringing the might of his entire crew into the fight with the threat of war. I don't blame him, Manu. When I called my crew to help find my sister, I intended to set fire to the city if that's what it took. And I'll do it in a second…for you.”

I wasn't sure if I should consider citywide arson a romantic gesture, but I did. “Look, I guess I can understand why Warp wants to keep me safe. And why you jumped up and erased my portrait immediately from the walls. But both you and Warp have to realize that I'm not Heather. I am careful, I'm knowledgeable. I didn't just start cruising the streets a month ago. I've been here for years. You both need to trust me.”

He grinned sadly at me, and I saw the gaping hole his sister's death had left in him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I nudged him, appreciating his need to lighten the mood with humor.

“Ask away,” he said more seriously.

Hesitant, I toyed with my fingers, picking at my nails. “Are you…worried about…I mean…do you think…?”

He pursed his lips together like he knew what I was going to ask and didn't want to hear it. “…Manu, don't.”

“Well, there are certain similarities I can't help but notice, Bren! Do you think someone is going to…hurt me?” I couldn't even utter the word murder. It seemed too crazy, but so did the whole situation. If another piece of me was up on a wall, and if Haze claimed it wasn't him—I had a hater or a stalker, and either could be dangerous, especially considering all the territory disputes lately.

“No. I'm not ever going to let that happen.”

“But if she was killed by a writer…and someone is painting me all over the place…”

“The piece of you is probably unrelated.” I noticed he didn't look me in the eye when he said that, but I didn't say anything. I just listened to him reassure me. “It might be someone trying to rile your brother, start a territory war…who knows? It's only been one. This other piece your brother talked about, we don't even know if it exists or if he was trying to frighten you away from me.”

I wanted to believe him. I'd rather someone try to use me to tick off my brother than target me. “I guess that's true, but…”

“Heather was killed by someone she knew. Probably not for a long time, but for about a month or so. She was partnering with someone, and that partner never came forward, so they must've been responsible for her death. It was someone who has something personal to say. The cops called it a crime of passion.”

“So you know it's a guy who practices graffiti. That's a place to start.”

“The cops thought so, too. It was a weird year for me. I didn't trust anyone except Decay. And I only trusted him because he was away with his family for the summer and couldn't have been dating my sister. One by one, as my crew was interviewed by the cops and cleared, we came together again. But the other writer crews out there, anyone I come across that looks at me funny, I wonder, ‘Is this the guy who killed my sister?' It's why I've stayed in the game instead of bowing out. If I lose all my connections, I lose my chance of stumbling on a clue. Maybe one day I'll get lucky and find the person who killed her. Maybe one day they'll slip up and say something over a beer at a party or something.”

“It must be hard carrying that wish with you every day. The pressure you put on yourself to make it come true. Is that the reason for this?” I asked, and pressed a finger to the patch of white hair on the side of his head.

“If by reason you mean I started acting out, doing crazy stuff, and managed to get some stitches in my head being an ass, yeah. Not the sexiest battle scar.”

“I dunno. I like it,” I said. I tugged on my own colored lock of hair. “And I'll keep your wish with me, too. You won't be the only one waiting and listening for someone to slip up.”

He stared at me for a second and then pulled me into his lap to kiss the breath from me. A simple press of lips, and I was putty, molding against his mouth and kissing him back with all the emotions of the last twenty minutes.

Opening to the gentle insistence of his tongue, I gave him the taste of me, and he eagerly drank me in. God, I knew I shouldn't think such things, but I wondered if he would mind if I straddled his lap right there in the middle of the park.

“Mmm.” He groaned, as if he could read my mind, and gently set me aside. “You better go now before I do something far crazier than just kissing you on this bench.”

I tried not to notice as he stood and adjusted the front of his pants. Okay, maybe I didn't try real hard, because I caught every stuttered move he made as he walked me the block back to my house. Just outside my gate he stopped and gave me one last quick kiss.

“So, tomorrow? Tucker Park?” I asked anxiously, unsure if, after all the drama from tonight, he'd still want to meet up with me.

He gave me a genuine grin, back to his old self. “Actually, I think tomorrow we should take things between us to the next level.”

I stood there, outside my bedroom window, my mind racing with all sorts of ideas about what “next level” meant. And I couldn't help but smile as I noticed him effortlessly vault over my neighbor's gate like a true traceur.

Fifteen

“This is what you consider next level?” I asked the next night, peeking over my shoulder to see if anyone was about to lynch us. Two kids dressed in black, ten o'clock at night creeping around the school, my arrest record was about to get another page, I could feel it.

Haze felt around the school's windowpane, slipping a finger in the gap I wouldn't have noticed if I wasn't watching. “What were you expecting?”

“I don't know, maybe coffee or something?” When he turned to look at me oddly, I shrugged. “Yeah, I said it! We hang out in a closet every weekday, and a park sometimes at night. I thought you might be ready to get a coffee—like a date or something. Tell me that wouldn't be a step up.” Okay, maybe I was hoping that by “next level” he had meant some heavy petting behind the school dumpster, but I'd been willing to settle for a real date—in another city, far, far away from anyone we knew.

“This is next level. You're teaching me yours, now I'm going to teach you mine. It's also a lesson in trust.”

“Oh? It looks a lot like a lesson in crime.”

He opened the window and motioned for me to crawl in. “That, too.”

“I dunno, Bren.”

“Trust me not to get us caught, and I'll trust you not to turn me in.”

I stood there for a second, weighing the options. If Haze and I climbed into the window and got caught, we'd get busted in more ways than one. I could try to say I met Haze at the school to kick his ass, but I doubted that would fly. Our relationship would definitely be outed—again, and this time, Warp wouldn't buy any of my bullshit acting skills.

Screw it. I didn't feel like worrying about it. Not tonight.

Smiling, I nodded and crawled through the window, damn near falling on my face as I slid across the ancient radiator and landed on the floor of the art room with a plop.

I flinched as Haze's flashlight glared into my eyes a few seconds later.

I couldn't see his face but I heard his soft chuckle clear enough.

“You coulda warned me,” I admonished in a whisper.

“You're in this class every day and you didn't remember there's a heating register there? You must get really distracted.”

“Yeah. That guy Bernard is pretty hot.”

Haze swatted my backside, giving me a nudge toward the gated art closet. The gate was always wide open, so I couldn't help but wonder why Mrs. Peris didn't just take it off the hinges.

“So, you're allowed to sneak in here?”

“Mrs. Peris is actually pretty cool. She thinks some rules are fun when broken. All she tells me is that she doesn't know a thing about it. Which probably means if I get caught, I'm on my own and she'll pretend she had no idea.”

“That's kinda cool.” Knowing Mrs. Peris approved of Haze coming here all the time, made me feel a little better about being in her classroom at night. At least I didn't feel I was violating her sanctuary.

He swung his doctor's bag from his shoulder and opened the zipper. “Hold this while I fill it?”

I nodded and did what I was told, moving with him into the closet. He took a bunch of spray paints down from one of the topmost shelves and tossed them into the bag. I also saw him grab a couple of pieces of plastic that looked like straws.

“What are those for?”

“They fit on the end of the sprayer and add precision.”

“I don't think I'll be very precise tonight.”

He laughed lightly and zipped up the bag, sliding the strap over his shoulder again. “Don't worry. A kindergartener could do what I'm going to ask you to do tonight.”

“Great, now there's pressure.”

He shut me up with a quick kiss to my mouth, and then, as if deciding he liked it, he kissed me again, and again, until he tugged me into him and gave me the good kind of kiss. The kind worth getting arrested for.

I moaned and hugged his waist.

The whole situation gave me such a rush. I was in the school after hours, having climbed in through a window, and I was making out with my enemy boyfriend.

As we snuck back out the window a few moments later, I couldn't help but think adrenaline junkies had nothing on me.

***

We spent a couple of hours skulking around Three Rivers Academy territory without finding the newest bloated image of me Warp said he'd seen the night before.

“You know, it's possible my brother was just full of shit. Or it was put up on a building that had the money to get it removed right away.”

The slump of his shoulders corrected slightly when he shrugged. “I guess. It bugs me, though. If it's not a flattering piece of you, I don't want it hanging around town.”

“Yeah me either. I'll ask Surge tomorrow and see if he'll tell me where it is. I don't want to spend any more time looking, though. You were supposed to be showing me some tagging hotness.”

“Well I was planning on showing you the ‘hotness' once I got rid of whatever your brother said he saw. I didn't plan on it taking so long and dragging you with me.”

“Lies!” I grinned. “You just didn't want to be alone. It's okay if you're scared and wanted me to walk with you.”

He nudged me and I laughed.

“Yeah, ask Surge. If it's out there, we'll find it soon enough.”

I wanted to change the subject. Our night had been fun, running around a good chunk of our side of the city, but the truth of what we were looking for weighed us down. I wanted to get back to the fun side of our relationship.

“So what would you like to do with me tonight?” I purposefully loaded the question to get a smile and a topic-change. It worked.

“I had a cool idea the other day, and I thought maybe you could help me with it.”

“Sure,” I said. “What do you need?”

Tugging me into the nearby alley, he looked up and down the walls like a portrait artist might a blank canvas. Though the street lights gave off enough light to see well enough, he took his flashlight from his cargo pants pocket and searched the shadows.

“We need to find the perfect spot. If we put it too close to the street, someone will clear it within a day. I want it to last longer than that.”

“You want what to last longer, Mr. Cryptic?”

Grinning all proud of himself, he jerked his bag off his shoulder and set it on the ground, squatting over it. The flashlight illuminated a piece of trash as he set it aside so he could unzip his bag.

“See? Now we're getting to the good stuff.” I clapped my hands together and rubbed them against each other all sinister-villain-like. After putting the little straw thingy on the end of the nozzle, he gave it a couple of shakes and handed the spray paint to me.

I noticed the green-colored dot on the can's label. “Your favorite color,” I said, remembering our closet conversation.

“Mmhm. And this—” he took out another can and repeated the process before holding it into the flashlight's stream, “—is yours.”

I felt the muscles in my cheeks bunch with a blush. “Yup. I'm a huge fan of yellow. I remember this one time, I painted a wall in my room yellow with finger paint.”

He picked up the flashlight and his bag and walked with me toward the back of the alley. “I bet that was fun to clean up.”

“Who said I cleaned it up?”

The way his mouth moved around a smile was pure magic. I hoped I never stopped amusing him.

“Stand up against the wall right there,” he commanded, and when I pointedly stood still he added, “please.”

My hoodie stuck to the bricks behind me, so I knew I was pretty close to the wall. He handed me a face mask and motioned for me to put it on. I could feel my breath create moisture against my mouth, and couldn't help but wonder if the sides of my mouth would have red marks and make me look funny after I took it off.

“Press up against the wall and hold still.”

“Um, why?”

He laughed. “Trust me. Close your eyes and hold your breath when you feel me around your head, all right? You have a mask on, but no reason to breathe when I'm that close to your noggin anyway.”

Trust is a hard thing for me, but I took a deep breath and held myself still as the hiss of the paint can came near one ear and then another. He positioned my arms down to my side with my right angled slightly outward and then continued to trace my body.

“Okay,” he said, releasing me.

I stepped away from the wall and grinned at the child-like outline of me in yellow on the wall. “That looks awesome.”

“Now take your can and do me.”

“Do you, huh?” I bit my lip and played on the sexual innuendo.

“Well if you want that,” he paused, letting my mind wonder about what he'd say next, “you're going to have to wait. I'm just not that kind of guy.”

“Uh huh.” I laughed.

Once he was in position, I gave him the mask and traced his body like he had mine, with a few minor mishaps until I came to his left hand. “Your hand is going to overlap with mine.”

One of his eyes popped open and glanced at me. “That's the idea, Manu.”

“Oh.” Well wasn't I just a dumbass?

I finished spraying around his hand and down his leg. “Okay, you're done. I think I got too close a few times and got some on your clothes.”

He stepped away from the wall and turned to look at our hand-holding outlines, pulling the mask off his head. “That's why I told you to wear something you didn't mind losing. Just be careful getting back to your room. Don't let your brother see you or he won't believe the gymnastics excuse.”

I nodded absently.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

Words didn't come right away. I could only stare at the sugary sweetness that was our painted bodies immortalized on the wall. Or…temporarily immortalized. Chances were good someone would eventually paint over or remove our little drawings, but the fact they were once there would be enough for me.

“This is—really cool, Bren.”

Grinning at me, he switched paint cans and took off the extensions. “Since you like yellow so much, why don't you paint a sun?”

“Um. Tracing is one thing, but—”

“Oh, come on. Just hold the paint can a little away from the wall and draw like you're five again. We're not trying to impress anyone. Just have fun.”

“Okay,” I jerked the mask out of his hand as he held it out to me. “But if you laugh, I can't be held responsible when I kick your ass.”

The sound of his laugh echoed in the alley, Haze-in-stereo style. Kinda neat. “I'll keep that in mind.”

With a nod, I aimed my paint can and tried to draw a circle. I choked at the bottom of it and it dripped a little. “Yikes.”

“Sun has rays. That's an easy cover.”

The thrill of doing something different than usual felt nice. Doing it while being next to Haze felt even nicer. I painted a few lines out from my circle and filled in the center, stepping back to see what I'd done once I finished. So I wouldn't be an artist, but it wasn't too bad. With a little bit of practice I could probably tag with some of the weaker crews.

I glanced over to see what Haze was doing and laughed. “Wow, that's interesting.”

The trunk of the tree was obvious, what with a little hole in the center for squirrels; its big branches were shaky but they worked. Once he started spraying in smaller branches and twigs…he had a hot mess.

The can of paint dangled from his fingers in defeat. “Yeah. People, buildings, flowers, I can do all that. Ask me to draw an oak and I choke.”

“Oo. Rhyme time.”

We both laughed. Haze took the can of paint and the mask from me and dropped both into his bag. Looping his arm through mine, he pulled me closer to him.

“I guess I'll leave the hippie crap to Decay.”

I looked at his mouth. “Guess so.”

“I just want you to know, if I'm going to do a tribute to you, to us, I'd make it personal, and for you and me alone. I'd never risk what we've got until I could be sure it was safe for everyone to know.”

“Oh, I know that.”

“Are you sure?” When I nodded, he smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. “Good. When everyone knows, I'll make a huge mural, to show the world that you're mine. And I'll paint the true beauty of you, Manu.”