Splat!

Eric Walters

orca
currents

Copyright © Eric Walters 2008

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Walters, Eric, 1957-
Splat! / written by Eric Walters.

(Orca currents)

ISBN 978-1-55143-988-4 (bound)--ISBN 978-1-55143-986-0 (pbk.)

I. Title. II. Series.
PS8595.A598S63 2008 jC813'.54 C2007-906965-7

Summary:
Keegan and Alex decide to add some excitement to the town's tomato festival.

First published in the United States, 2008
Library of Congress Control Number:
2007940948

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover design by Teresa Bubela
Cover photography by Corbis

    Orca Book Publishers                  Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 5626, Station B                           PO Box 468
Victoria, BC Canada                       Custer, WA USA
        V8r 6S4                                           98240-0468

www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.

11 10 09 08 • 4 3 2 1

The police car turned down the lane and crept along the dirt road toward us.

I nudged Keegan.

“Yeah, I see it,” he said.

Keegan turned away to stare out at the lake. I watched the car out of the corner of my eye. I didn't want the cops to know that I'd even seen them. The car came to a stop on the other side of the fence, across the stretch of beach from where we sat on the picnic bench.

“Could you see who's in the car?” he asked.

“Couldn't tell.”

We knew every cop in town. Just like every cop knew us.

“What do you think they're doing?” I asked.

“Probably just looking for a place to have a donut and catch up on their sleep.”

“I hope that's all that they want,” I said.

“Alex, you sound guilty.”

“I'm
not
guilty. Besides, we really aren't doing anything wrong.”

“The day is young,” Keegan said.

He turned slightly and gave me that smirky smile of his—the one he often flashed before we started to do something we shouldn't.

There was a honking of a car horn, and I almost spun around to look, but didn't.

“Ignore him,” Keegan said. “He probably isn't aiming that at us anyway.”

“Who do
you
think he's honking at?”

“Don't know. Don't care. If he wants us he'll have to do more than just tap on his—”

The siren of the car screamed for a few seconds, cutting off the end of Keegan's sentence.

“Well?” I asked.

“Probably wants somebody else.”

“There's only us and them,” I said, gesturing toward a woman and her two little kids, wading in the water. The rest of the beach was deserted. It was overcast, and it had been raining or there would have been a lot more people.

“You know, she does look a bit suspicious,” Keegan said.

“The woman with the kids?”

“You think she kidnapped those children?”

I chuckled. “I guess there's a possibility,” I admitted. “Not big, but a statistical possibility.”

“And if anybody knows the statistics it would be you.”

I had this strange ability to memorize
statistics and play with numbers— especially when those numbers involved money.

“Keegan and Alex!” the PA system of the police car blared out.

I recognized the voice. It was Clyde. Keegan looked over at me. “I guess they
do
want us.”

He went to stand up, and I put my hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

“Maybe those
kids
are named Keegan and Alex,” I said, pointing down the beach at the toddlers, “and the police want them and not their mother.”

Keegan burst into laughter and sat down again.

“I know you can hear me!” Clyde's amplified voice called out. “Get off that picnic table and come here,
now
!”

Keegan looked over at me. He pointed at the table, then at himself and then at me. I knew what he meant—picnic table, Keegan, Alex—we fit all the pieces.

“What would happen if we just kept ignoring him?” Keegan asked.

“They'd probably come over and get us,” I said. “But they wouldn't be happy.”

“How about if we ran?” he questioned.

“Even less happy when they did catch us,” I said.

“They couldn't catch us. Clyde would be out of breath just walking over here, so forget the running part. We could out-
walk
the two of them easy.”

“But since they know where we hang out, go to school and live, I think that even the two of them would eventually catch us.”

“Good point,” said Keegan.

“Aren't you at least a little bit curious to know want they want?” I asked.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

We heard the car's doors slam. They'd gotten out of the car.

“Okay, we'll go over,” he said.

Keegan stood up and raised his hands over his head—his skateboard in one hand. I did the same thing.

“Don't shoot!” he yelled. “We are not armed!”

With our arms above our heads we slowly walked over. I couldn't believe how heavy my skateboard was when I held it above my head. I wished we could put our hands down as we walked across the strip of beach.

“What exactly are you two doing?” Clyde asked.

Beside him was his partner, Bernie. Everybody—including all the other cops— called them Bonnie and Clyde like the old-time gangsters. They weren't amused by that. Everybody else was very amused.

“We didn't want to risk you taking a shot at us for resisting arrest,” Keegan said.

“Believe me, I'd like to give both of you a shot—a swift kick in the butt.”

“Sounds like police brutality,” Keegan suggested. “What would the chief of police think about that?”

“He'd probably give us a raise
and
a promotion. Get in the car.”

“We weren't doing anything wrong,” I said.

“Chief wants to see both of you right
away, so I figure you
were
doing something wrong.”

“Did he say what?” I asked.

“You sound guilty,” Clyde said.

“He's right,” Keegan agreed. “You
do
sound guilty. Didn't I just tell you that? What exactly did you do?”

“I didn't do anything!” I exclaimed. “I was with you all day!”

Keegan turned to Bernie. “I want you to know that
I
didn't do anything, and I'm not going to be an alibi witness for him. Whatever he did, I know nothing about it, and if I did, I'd rat him out in a second. Maybe you could throw him into the interview room and browbeat a confession out of him. You could break this whole thing wide open and—”

“Get in,” Bernie said as he opened the back passenger door.

“Now,” Clyde said, pointing. “No more discussion.”

I climbed in, and Keegan followed. Bernie slammed the door closed, locking us in. I hated the back of police cars—no
handles, no way out until they let you out. Sort of like little rolling jails.

“I've got to stop hanging around with you,” Keegan said. “You're obviously a bad influence.”

“He's a bad influence?” Clyde said. He and Bernie began laughing.

Clyde started the car.

“Really, do either of you know what this is about?” Keegan asked.

“He didn't give us reasons, he just gave us orders,” Bernie said.

“That's right. Pick them up and bring them both over to the mayor's office.”

“The mayor wants to see us?” Keegan asked, looking over at me for an explanation.

“The mayor
and
the chief,” Clyde said. “Whatever you two did I think you're going to regret doing it.”

I didn't know what it was, but I already did regret it.

“Maybe we should have made a run for it,” I said under my breath.

Bonnie and Clyde dropped us off at city hall. We waved as they drove away.

“So, do we go up to the mayor's office?” Keegan asked.

“Do you know how much trouble we'd be in if we didn't?”

“How much?”

“Let's not find out. Besides, we didn't do anything wrong,” I reasoned.

“If we didn't, why do you think they put out an all-points bulletin for us?”

“This is Leamington. What's the worst thing that has ever happened around here? Some overturned garbage cans, a missing cat?”

“Only thing I can think of is somebody complained we were skateboarding on private property,” Keegan said.

“That wouldn't be a problem if they'd build us a halfway decent skate park.”

“You're right about that,” said Keegan. “We must have the most pathetic park in the entire world. It's embarrassing.”

“So, come on, let's go upstairs and find out. It's not like we're on
America's Most Wanted
or anything. Don't be afraid,” I said. “Do you want to hold my hand?”

“Okay, fine, let's go.”

We went up the stairs. The outer office was empty except for the secretary, Mrs. Wallace. She was sitting at her desk pretending to be working but actually watching the tv on in the corner. She didn't look up as we entered.

“Hello,” I said when I reached her desk. “How are you?”

She looked up and smiled. “I'm doing just fine. So nice of you to ask.”

She was always kind to me, but then again, what choice did she have?

“That's
nice
to hear,” Keegan said. “Do you have any idea what this is all about?” Keegan asked.

“Yes, I do know,” she said, going back to pretending to work.

“Are you going to tell us?” Keegan pressed.

“No.”

She worked—watching the
TV
with the sound off—but I saw a small smile creep onto her face. She didn't like Keegan at all.

That
TV
was always on, but the sound was always off. Mrs. Wallace must have been able to read lips or something.

“Do you think we're going to be waiting long?” Keegan asked.

He was, as always, persistent.

“You'll be waiting as long as it takes,” she said, shooting Keegan an evil eye.

She then turned to me and smiled.
“So, Alex, how is that wonderful sister of yours?”

“She's still pretty
wonderful
,” I answered, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

“I'm sure she's settled in and doing well,” she said.

“My guess is that she's doing wonderful,” I said.

“Yes, wonderful,” Keegan agreed.

My sister had just started first year university—on a scholarship—and had moved out of town.

“I've always predicted that girl would go far.”

“Clear across the country,” I said.

“Pardon?”

“Her university is on the other side of the country...you know...she went far.”

“Oh, you were telling
a joke
,” she said and sort of laughed—a pity laugh.

“Got to work on those jokes,” Keegan said under his breath so only I could hear him.

“I meant she'll go far in whatever field she pursues. She is so dedicated, so committed, so smart.”