“What’s that?” she asks, trying to lean so she can look around me.
“No idea,” I reply.
She shoves me to the side so she can walk out of the bedroom door.
“Hey!” I cry.
“Oh, shut it,” she says. She walks toward the kitchen, where Ms. Markie is standing with Little Robbie Gentry, who is holding a piece of paper in his hand. He’s wearing his state trooper’s uniform and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen him wear.
“Robbie,” I say, as he tips his head in my direction. He looks down at the apron, which is still my only clothing, and his eyebrows shoot up.
“Grady,” he replies.
“What are you doing here, Robbie?” Evelyn asks.
Robbie scratches his head. “I’m here to pick you two up,” he says, refusing to look at either one of us.
I hitch my hip against the counter. “Why?”
“Well, it appears as though somebody drove out to Mr. Jacobson’s place at Lake Fisher last night, and whoever it was vandalized the big old building that sits next to the road.”
“The one that gets tagged by graffiti all the time?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Evelyn asks. She looks at me like she’s waiting for me to give her some great big revelation.
Robbie scratches his head again. “Well, the last time Mr. Jacobson’s building got tagged, him and Jake decided to put up some surveillance cameras in case somebody has the audacity to do it again.”
“That’s actually a really good idea,” I say. Kids were always tagging that building. It had become a right of passage to put your initials on the side of it. Then Jake had to go and cover it all up the next day with fresh paint.
“Well, you’ll never believe who his cameras caught last night.”
I watch as Evelyn goes and pours herself a cup of sweet tea. I would ask her for one, but she’d probably pour it over my head as soon as she’d look at me.
“Who’d it catch?” I ask, although I pretty much already know.
Robbie grins. “You two,” he says, then he snorts out a laugh.
Evelyn lets her glass thud onto the countertop. “That’s not funny,” she says, as her cheeks turn as red as her hair.
“No, ma’am, it’s not,” Robbie says. He tries to look like he doesn’t think this is funny at all, but he does a shit job at it. “It’s tragic.
Mr. Jacobson wants to press charges this time.”
“Against us?” I ask. I press my hand against my chest.
“Yep.” Little Robbie is all out grinning now.
“But we didn’t…” We really didn’t do anything that bad. Everybody tags that building. I see Evelyn look down at her hands, which are streaked with red and black paint. On the back of my left hand, I have a similar mark. “Oh, fuck,” I say. Guilt is painted all over me.
Ms. Markie picks up her fly swatter and slaps my naked shoulder with it. “Ow!” I cry.
“Watch your language,” she warns. She shakes that fly swatter while she glares at me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say quietly, as I rub the sting out of my arm. “Sorry,” I add for good measure.
“I have to take you both in,” Robbie says.