Moment of Truth - Kasie West Page 0,21
for sure.
When we finally made it upstairs, everyone was filing into a room called the Diamond Room. Jackson went in ahead of us. I grabbed hold of Amelia’s arm so she wouldn’t join up with him again, and we stepped inside. At the far end of the room several people were moving a giant painting into place as though they’d just brought it in. It wasn’t labeled like the others in the museum had been but it was amazing. Reds and blues and purples created an abstract ocean. Tossed in the waves was a ship that was falling apart, wooden pieces strewn in the water around it. Goose bumps appeared along my arms. Now that was art.
“Is that painting his?” Amelia asked. “Heath Hall’s?”
“Fake Heath Hall,” I said under my breath. “You think that painting has something to do with his post?”
“I don’t know but are all these people here to support him?”
“What?” I looked around the room and realized it was full of people from our school. “I guess they saw his post just like we did.”
“True.”
“Split up?” I asked. I recognized so many people from the list we’d made and now they were all here in the same place. This would save me so much time.
She nodded, and we headed in opposite directions.
I wasn’t sure who to talk to first. Was one of these people about to whip out a mask and run around the museum? Or were they really all here just because they’d seen the post like we had?
I saw Brady again, and even though I’d already talked to him at school, he had confessed to knowing something. Maybe he’d be more likely to share if he thought I was in the know now. I joined him. “He should be here any minute,” I said.
“Yep,” Brady answered back. He was staring at the large canvas that leaned against the far wall, its movers gone. “I don’t believe he was worried about this,” Brady mumbled. “Misuse.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Just when I was about to move on to talk to someone else, the lights went out. Then a single spotlight from someone’s phone lit up the large painting. Another phone shined on a guy dressed in a tux making his way through the crowd. I couldn’t see where Amelia had gone or if she had been anywhere near where this guy materialized. He walked until he stood in front of the large painting, back to us. So here he was, the guy who’d ruined my race.
“I think that’s Brad McCall,” I heard someone whisper behind me.
“Maybe but I heard Heath was Leo Morales.”
Both those names were on our list.
Up front, Heath Hall stared at the painting for a long time. Someone to my right gave a supportive holler and then several others joined in. Soon the room began to clap and cheer. At last, the guy in front of the painting turned around and bowed. He was wearing the mask.
His posture was slouched, his hands in the pockets of his tux. When he spoke, his voice was muffled, like he was distorting it on purpose. I had to strain to hear because it was also quiet.
“Thanks everyone for the support. Showing my work has been a fear of mine for a long time. And the reactions I’ve gotten from you all on my piece tonight mean a lot to me.” He lifted his hand in a wave and then stepped away from the painting.
“That’s it?” I asked no one in particular.
“Yep,” Brady answered. “That’s it. Until next time.”
I couldn’t wait that long. My eyes hadn’t left him since he stepped away from that painting. My vision had adjusted somewhat to the dark and I watched him head for a back exit. I slid off my shoes, gripping the straps in my hand and ran after him.
The door closed just as I reached it and I pushed my way through. We were now in a back hallway, some sort of service area, nobody but the two of us. This was probably how he’d brought the unsanctioned painting into the museum. Heath was at the end of the corridor, about to round the corner. “Wait,” I said.
He stopped. “You’re not supposed to follow me.”
“Who are you?”
He turned but looked ready to bolt, so I stayed where I was, not wanting to spook him. His hands were shaking so much that I could see them moving even though forty feet separated us. I took him in from head to