Tagged (7 page)

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Authors: Mara Purnhagen

BOOK: Tagged
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“It's Kate,” I said, but Reva acted like she hadn't heard me.

“Why don't you come back in an hour?” Eli asked.

“I can't. If you want a ride, you have to come with me now.”

I busied myself at the sink while Reva and Eli went back and forth about the ride situation. They walked to the storeroom, where they lowered their voices so I couldn't hear them.

A minivan pulled up to the window. It was the same mom from the week before, and the backseat was full of howling kids. “Can I get five apple juices and a double espresso?” she asked as she dug through her purse.

“Uh, sure,” I said, glancing toward the storeroom. I needed Eli to help me but was unsure if I should bother him. One of the kids in the van leaned over his mom and honked the horn and she began yelling at him. Eli stuck his head out the door.

“Need help?” he asked.

I nodded and began pulling down cups for the juice. Eli joined me, and we had the order ready within five minutes.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation. Looks like we're all clear now.”

I heard a car peel out of the parking lot and caught a glimpse of Reva behind the wheel of a black sedan, speeding away.

“I'm really sorry, Eli,” I said. “I didn't mean to cause a problem between you and—”

“Forget it,” he interrupted. “She's wound a little tight right now. It's not you.”

“What about your ride?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, looks like I need a favor.”

I don't know why I felt my heart flutter a little, but it did.

Not that it meant anything.

7

T
HERE IS NOTHING MORE AWFUL
, more cringe-worthy or more makes-you-wish-you-were-suddenly-invisible than having your dad pick you up in a police car. It might be worse if he picked you up in, say, a hearse with a fresh coffin in the back. Maybe. But a police car is pretty much at the top of the list when it comes to the worst possible ways to take a guy home. A hearse might have a creepy-cool vibe. A police car? Creepy-uncool vibe. I warned Eli ahead of time.

“We'll have to sit in the back,” I said. “We'll look like criminals.” I glanced out the window, expecting Dad to pull in at any moment.

“It won't be the first time,” he said. I must have looked shocked, because he laughed. “Kidding.”

Dad arrived and I introduced him to Eli, who was extremely polite, but I saw Dad smirk when I slid into the backseat. As we pulled out of the front of the parking lot, I noticed Reva's car turning into the back. I didn't say anything, though.

At first, the drive was uncomfortably quiet. Dad asked Eli some questions about how to get to his house, but that was all. The police scanner buzzed and crackled, and we could
hear the dispatcher's voice reciting numbers and codes in her calm, stoic voice. After one of these announcements, though, Dad perked up.

“Huh,” he said.

“What is it?” I wondered if there was any chance he would drag us on a high-speed chase, but I knew he would never go over the speed limit with two “civilian minors” in the car.

“Sounds like they've discovered another mural.” He turned right at the next light. “Mind if we take a look?”

I glanced at Eli, who nodded. “Okay,” I said, even though it was definitely not okay. What if there were kids there? Worse, what if this time they were kids we knew? I closed my eyes and willed Dad to change his mind and drive us straight to Eli's house. No such luck. I slid down in the seat a little and hoped Eli didn't notice me turning red with embarrassment.

We slowed down in front of a tuxedo rental place with a huge going-out-of-business banner draped across the front. I didn't see the gorilla at first, but then Dad turned the corner, and there it was, four feet high and just like the others. “They call this a monkey suit” was painted above the gorilla's head. I laughed out loud. Eli grinned.

There was already another police car there, and Dad pulled up alongside it and talked to the officer behind the wheel. The other officer frowned at us, but when he recognized me, he smiled and waved.

“I hope you don't do this to all Kate's boyfriends,” he remarked to my dad. I was horrified. I looked over at Eli, who was just gazing out the window, smiling.

“He's not—” I began to say, but Dad interrupted and asked the officer about the gorilla.

“The owner just discovered it,” the officer said. “It must have been done last night, but no one parks on this side, so he didn't see it this morning. Same as the others.”

Dad nodded. “That's what? Three now?”

“Yeah. The school, the bank and now this. We found some spray-paint cans in the Dumpster out back. We'll check 'em for prints, but if this guy is clever, he wiped 'em clean.”

“I'm guessing he's clever,” Dad said, “but check anyway. Thanks, George.”

I made a mental note to myself that George was to be avoided at all costs in the future.

We pulled away from the store. “It's just the darndest thing,” Dad said. I wasn't sure if he was talking to us or just talking out loud.

“What's that, Dad?”

“Well, we got a report last night that one of these gorillas was spotted in Oklahoma. They e-mailed us a picture and it's the exact same thing. But that's hundreds of miles away. There's no way the same person could have done both within the same day, but they're absolutely identical.”

“Sounds like it's more than one person,” I said.

Eli was rummaging through his backpack, not really paying attention to us. I hoped he wasn't trying to avoid talking to me. I hoped even more that he didn't think I had told my dad we were dating. I knew my face was still red and I was kind of glad Eli wasn't looking at me.

“It just doesn't make sense,” Dad continued. “Why would one person focus the graffiti on three buildings in Cleary while another paints them in different towns and different states?” He sighed. “Are the kids talking about this at school?”

I glanced at Eli, horrified that Dad was breaking our don't-ask-don't-tell policy in front of him. “We have a deal, remember?”

“Sorry, Kate,” he said. “You, too, Eli. Forget I mentioned it.”

“No problem, Mr. Morgan,” Eli said, zippering his backpack. I don't think he even knew what my dad was apologizing for. “Turn here. I'm the third one on the left.”

We pulled into the driveway of a two-story brick colonial. It was your basic ordinary house, with bright blue shutters and a topiary on the front porch shaped like three balls sitting on top of one another. It wasn't the kind of place I thought Eli would live in, but what did I expect? Something painted black with a big red anarchy sign splashed across the garage?

“Thanks for the ride,” Eli said as he got out. “See you tomorrow, Kate.”

“Bye,” I said, hoping he didn't think I was completely idiotic.

I watched him as he walked up to the front door. He reached into his front pocket and retrieved a key. Dad pulled away, and I turned my head so I could watch Eli go into his house.

“Nice boy,” Dad said.

“Yeah.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since sophomore year. We had English together.”

“He seems nice.”

“You said that.”

If Dad was waiting for me to confess that I had a hidden crush on Eli, he was going to be waiting a long time. I did not discuss boys with my parents. Ever.

“I think I did pretty well on my history paper,” I said, trying to keep my voice nonchalant. I wanted to talk about anything but Eli.

Dad smiled. “I guess that means you like him.”

“Huh?”

“You always talk about school so you won't have to talk about the boys you like.”

He made it sound like I had a hundred crushes, like I was always swooning over some guy.

“He has a girlfriend,” I said.

“Okay.”

“He's off-limits.”

“Right.” Dad nodded like he understood, but I knew he didn't. I tried changing the subject again.

“So do you think the gorilla graffiti will make another appearance?” I asked.

Dad sighed. “Yes. Our guy's smart. And he's talented, and he seems to enjoy it. We'll catch him, I think. Just need some more time.”

I gazed out the window as we passed trees and houses and made our way to the main road. “What does it all mean?” I murmured.

“What's that?”

“I wonder what they mean, the gorillas. What's the message? What's the point?”

“No point,” Dad said. “Just some prankster having fun. Don't read too much into it, Kate.”

I hoped that Eli didn't read too much into George's little comment or think that I drove around with my dad all the time, checking out crime scenes. I didn't know what he
thought of me, exactly, but I was pretty sure that he was not looking at me as potential girlfriend material.

Mom was waiting for us when we got home. She wanted to have an early dinner because she had to get back to work to deal with some cake-related emergency.

“Honestly, Sam should be handling this,” she said after we sat down. She was still wearing her white apron. Little blotches of blue icing were smeared across it.

“Did you tell him that?” Dad asked, his mouth half-full of pot roast.

“How do you tell your boss that you don't want to do your job?”

“You just said it wasn't your job.”

“It shouldn't be, but I handle all the cakes, so technically it is.” Mom sighed. “We have limits for a reason. It's just not possible to fill this order.”

I poked at a mushy carrot with my fork. Sometimes I liked to hear my parents discuss work, particularly if they were talking about coworkers they didn't like. I didn't think adults talked about other people the same way my friends and I did in the cafeteria, but gossip seemed to cross generations.

“And how was your day, Kate?” Mom asked.

“Fine.”

“We took one of Kate's, uh,
friends
home.” Dad cleared his throat and I glanced up to see him give Mom one of those meaningful parental looks they thought I never noticed.

“He's just someone I work with,” I said. “That's it.”

Mom nodded. “And what is his name?” Her smile was a little too wide, like she thought it was all very cute that I liked a guy.

I stabbed at an overdone potato chunk, mashing it in half. “Eli. His name is Eli. And I don't want to talk about him.”

“I see.” I knew my parents were exchanging their look again, but I ignored them, and the conversation turned to their weekend plan to buy a new sofa.

After dinner, I did my homework and put all my laundry in a pile to take downstairs. Then I checked my e-mail, which I hadn't done in a week. I usually only got spam in my inbox because everyone I knew called my cell phone.

I was deleting the tenth mortgage offer in a long list of junk mail when I saw it: a message from Eli. I checked the date and time. He had sent it an hour earlier. The subject header read Thanks. My stomach did a little flip.

 

Hey, Kate—Just wanted to thank you again for the ride home. I owe you one. See you later. Eli.

 

I read the message five times, then called Lan and read it to her five times.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think he sent you a thank-you message,” she said, yawning.

“But it could be more than that, right? I mean, he thanked me when he got out of the car. He didn't have to send an e-mail.”

Lan didn't answer. I thought she was considering the possibility, but her breathing began to slow down.

“Lan?”

“Huh? Sorry, must have dozed off.”

“I'm that boring?”

She laughed. “No. I was up late last night working on another paper. Nothing motivates me more than a deadline.”

“Well, get some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

After we hung up I read the message one more time. It was probably nothing, I decided. He was just being polite.

I turned my attention to downloading the pictures I had taken at Tiffany's invitation ceremony. Overall, I was pleased with them. I liked crowd shots because they weren't posed. No one looked at the camera. No one even noticed it. Everyone wore their natural expressions. I could see some people smirking while others looked truly excited and filled with anticipation. My favorite picture out of the bunch was one with Tiffany herself. She was holding the bullhorn, her mouth half-open, surrounded by the camera crew and half the student body. She looked perfect, except for one flaw—her tiara had tipped to the side. It was like no matter how precisely she had planned her special moment, it just couldn't be perfect. There was something I liked about that idea.

After I finished saving my pictures I took my laundry downstairs, said good-night to my dad and got ready for bed. The stars on my ceiling glowed and I tried to remember which constellation was Gemini, then gave up and searched for Orion.

I couldn't sleep. I wondered what Eli saw in Reva. Was it her cool confidence? She seemed so much older to me, like she was a twenty-five-year-old woman trapped in a sixteen-year-old's body. Did Eli like her maturity? They had been together for over a year. Was it possible they would break up soon or would they stay together until graduation? It shouldn't have mattered to me, but it did.

I dreamed that night that I was in a dark tattoo parlor. Reva was there, holding a tattoo gun and smiling. “You shouldn't be here,” she said, laughing.

“I want that one,” I said, pointing to a picture on the wall. I couldn't really see it, but I knew I wanted it.

Reva shrugged. “Whatever.”

I sat down in a chair and waited. Reva pushed the needle into my shoulder, but I didn't feel any pain. When she pulled away, I looked in a mirror. There, at the top of my arm, was a single gorilla.

“It's never coming off,” Reva warned.

I stared at my arm. “I don't want it to.”

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