Moment of Truth - Kasie West Page 0,16

The Jack-haters club.”

“I’d totally join that club.”

I shook my head. “I bet you would.”

He gave my arm a playful punch. “See you around.”

At home I opened my computer, ready to look for more clues. Surely Heath Hall had to have said something to give himself away at some point. Right away I zeroed in on his latest post. Heath Hall: I’ll be at the museum on Tenth Street this Thursday sometime between the hours of 7 and 10.

He’d given another location.

I pulled out my cell and dialed Amelia’s number.

She answered the phone with the words, “I saw. That’s Abby’s museum. They have a show this week. Do you think he’s trying to ruin it?”

“I don’t know if he’s trying to, but that always seems to be the end result. So are we going?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Ms. Lin would be so proud,” I said. Ms. Lin was the art teacher at school. I had never taken art, but she was my mentor teacher and was constantly trying to get me to change this fact.

“I know. That’s why we shouldn’t tell her. She’ll think we’ve decided to become artists after all.”

“She thinks everyone’s an artist waiting to find themselves,” I said.

“So do you think I should warn Abby?” Amelia said. “Or my brother?”

“Yes, you should let them know there might be a disruption at the museum.” If someone had warned me, it might not have affected me so much.

“You know, Heath Hall busted that museum heist and saved the priceless painting in movie number three.”

“Um . . . so? You know this guy isn’t really Heath Hall. As we’ve been told a million times.”

“Maybe it’s a clue, though. Maybe he plans where to go based on the plots of the movies.”

“Has there been a movie that involved swimming?” I asked, searching my memory for that answer.

“He’s constantly swimming. Usually scuba diving to break into some fancy building,” Amelia said.

“But what does that have to do with the school pool?”

“Who knows? Maybe we’ll figure it out Thursday at seven. You and me at the museum.”

“For sure. Is this a dress-up kind of event?” I rarely wore dresses except once or twice a year for charity events my parents made me go to. My mom had picked out every single one of those dresses so I wasn’t even sure if I had anything that would work for this.

“Yes. I’ll find you a dress.”

Before I had a chance to say anything else, my door swung open. My mom stood in it holding up two T-shirts. “Which one do you like better?” she asked.

“Amelia, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone,” Mom said after I hung up.

“It’s okay.” I looked at the two shirts she held. They were both light blue. One had tennis shoes running across the top of the words Five K. The other had a ribbon tying Five and K together.

“They’re both bad, aren’t they?” she said, scrutinizing them. “I should tell the designer to try something else.”

“No, Mom. They’re fine. I like the tennis shoes one.”

“Tennis shoes?”

I pointed to the one on the right.

“Those aren’t tennis shoes. Great. They’re supposed to be beakers.”

“Beakers? Why would you have beakers on a shirt about running a five K?”

“To show that the money raised will go to science to help find a cure.”

I turned my head sideways, trying to see as beakers what clearly looked like tennis shoes to me. I couldn’t. “Oh. Okay. Well, that works too.”

“Back to the drawing board,” she said, draping the shirts over one shoulder and leaving my room.

“Try tennis shoes!” I yelled after her.

“I love you!” she yelled back.

My attention was drawn back to my computer, still open in front of me, a picture of Heath Hall filling my screen. “What is your story?” I stretched my hands above my head to loosen up my shoulders—they felt much better today.

It was only Tuesday. Thursday and the museum seemed forever away. If we could figure out who Heath Hall was before that, then maybe I wouldn’t have to put on an Amelia-chosen dress.

Eight

Coach was standing over my lane when I finished my laps. He looked at his watch. Had he been timing me? I pulled off my goggles and earphones.

“Moore. Everyone else is gone.”

I looked at the lanes on either side of me. Sure enough, they were empty.

“If you can’t hear the end whistle, maybe you should stop listening to music while you swim.”

“You know, most coaches are happy that their athletes want