I saw Adam that morning as I walked to school. I noticed his ear wasn't pierced like he'd said it would be. I didn't mention it, though. I knew it would make him cranky. Maybe Troy had chickened out on him. The only thing Troy was reliable for was an occasional drive to Sloppy Soldiers. He only cared about things that helped himself. I was glad, personally, that his ear didn't have anything glittering under the molten sun on it. I couldn't really say why. For as much as I was Adam's friend, I couldn't help feeling that I had to watch out for him, too. I could yell at him all I wanted, but I rarely did because I knew he wouldn't listen.

I felt like talking, though, as long as it wasn't about him not getting pierced. I wanted to tell him what I'd seen the night before and ask him whether he might consider coming over after school to help me scrub the ketchup off my garage door. But I didn't get that chance. He started talking first.

"I want to see your half of the papers. I want to read all of it."

He said it real stubbornly, like he was expecting me to say no. "Sure. Ok." He should've known I wouldn't have cared.

Adam kept going, as if he hadn't even heard what I'd said. "You shouldn't have them. They shouldn't be split up. It's just kind of weird. Not right."

"Fine. Or I guess I could take them—"

"No. I want them. I found them, so I want them."

I might've said something about his obvious rudeness, but he didn't stop talking.

"Look, Cole. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been kind of jerky, lately. It's just . . . my mom's acting weird and all. She got more flowers, and they came when I was at school. And then she gets letters, too."

"From who?" I asked, starting to get concerned.

Adam rolled his bony shoulders back and sighed. His eyes stared dully at the ground as we walked. "I don't know. Some guy named Ted Barnes. She never lets me read them. I don't know what the letters even say."

I have to say I wasn't surprised. Not really. I mean, Adam's mom was still young, and she was pretty. Real dark hair and light skin and brown eyes. Not wrinkled or flabby or one of those moms who didn't know how to dress. And she was single. It was hardly unbelievable that she had some man after her. I actually was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. What really mattered was whether Mrs. Nyler liked him back. I didn't say any of that to Adam, though. What I said was, "If it was something important, your mom would tell you." Of course, I didn't believe that myself. My mom didn't tell me half of what was important, like how to build home-made rockets or use her credit card to buy things online.

"Whatever," was what Adam replied. I couldn't blame him. Kicking at a rock, he added, "If that guy ever comes around here, I'll shoot him."

I snorted. "Oh yeah? With what—a paintball gun?"

"That'd scare him off, at least."

He wasn't being serious; he was just letting off steam.

"Anyway, I want the stories. I want to read them. If there's one about me, I should probably have it."

"Sure. No problem." I paused. I turned slowly and scanned the street as my ears picked up the soft sound of tires scrunching on the pavement behind us. A cop car was about three yards down the road, and it was moving real slow, like it was watching us. "Hey." I lightly elbowed Adam. "Don't look now, but there's a cop behind us. In a car."

"Really? Why?"

"Why would I know?" I rolled my eyes. In a voice that was lower for some reason, I said, "Just keep walking. Don't pick up speed or he'll suspect us of something."

So we kept walking. We were only a couple of blocks away from school, but we noticed that the cop really was following us when we cut through an alley between two houses to see him round the corner and pick up our trail a street over. It was so weird. I actually felt scared. I mean, if it had been any other car, we would've bolted off running. We'd suspect some kidnapper or someone. But a cop car was different. If you ran from a cop, they'd have more reason to come after you. Adam and I would look guilty if we ran, even if we hadn't done anything. And as we were walking, hardly talking because we were so weirded out, I started to rack my brains to see if I had done anything lately that could get me into trouble. I didn't think I had, but the more I thought, the harder it was to remember the past few weeks.

By the time we could see the front steps of Goldenrock High, Adam and I were passing each other some anxious glances. For the first time in five solid minutes, Adam talked. "What do you think he wants?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "I can't think of any reason. Have you done something lately?"

"Not that I remember!"

We were at the steps of the building. Kids were hanging out on the cement steps and the benches outside the building, trying to waste those few minutes before school doing absolutely nothing, which was what summer was all about. Girls in too much makeup were giggling in little clusters and punky looking boys lounged against the brick walls. Almost all of them were older than us, because they were the high schoolers.

Adam and I started up the stairs, not going any faster than we normally would have (although it was tough trying not to hurry). The cop car sped up, though, and before we reached the top, he'd parked at the bottom and hopped out of his car. We heard his door slam, and then a voice called, "You! Kid with the shag hair!"

Both of us stopped dead in our stepping. I turned slowly toward Adam. "He's talking to you," I whispered. Adam's look said, Why? but I had no more idea why than he did. We turned around. The cop was approaching, coming up the stairs slowly, importantly. All puffed up like a helium balloon. I thought I recognized him.

"Yeah, you're the one, all right. First, attempted theft. Now vandalism. You're headed down the road to the slammer the way you're living." He jerked his head to one side and took off his too-large sunglasses. Then I totally knew who he was. He was the buzz-cut cop from the Amoco Station, on the day when Adam and I had skipped school.

At first, I knew Adam was kind of nervous. But then he got mad. His face got hard. "What are you talking about?" he said calmly, for as angry as he was.

"You questioning my authority?"

"What?" Adam was totally confused. I knew he recognized the cop, too.

"I'm going to have to take you down to the station."

"Why?"

The cop bent over closer and put his hands on his knees like he was talking to a five-year-old. He spoke real slow as he said, "Well, because that's where the criminals go for questioning when we catch them."

Maintaining his too-cool appearance, Adam leaned away from the guy like he was afraid of his bad breath. He crossed his arms over his black T-shirt and looked to the side. "While I find your condescension offensive, I'm willing to let it slide if you get out of my way. You're taking away from my valuable education, officer."

I choked inside myself. This cop already thought Adam was a juvenile delinquent; now he'd be in trouble for disrespect, maybe even resisting arrest! By this time, a crowd of curious teens had gathered around. They were keeping a safe distance, but they'd heard what Adam had just said. I could hear whispers and gasps going around them.

For a minute, the cop looked like he actually didn't know what to say. He sort of grumbled, trying to get a comeback together. His lip twitched at one corner and a vein pulsed in his thick neck. But he didn't come up with anything. Instead, he pulled the handcuffs off his belt, grabbed Adam's arm and jerked him closer, and locked the kid's hands together. I stared at my friend with bugging eyes. Adam probably could've slipped his wrists out of the cuffs, but he didn't try. "That's what you get for being hostile, you little punk. Now get yourself in the back of that car and shut your mouth. Don't make me use the muzzle on you."

Adam's expression was almost more insulting than what he'd last said to the cop, but luckily, the officer had turned toward his car and didn't see it. The small crowd saw it, though, and so did I, and I knew that whatever Adam was being arrested for, he was going to be a legend around summer school for at least the next two days.

I stood there on the steps, watching in shock as Adam and the cop got into the car and drove off. Even when they were out of sight, I couldn't move myself. I was just rooted there. I was fairly unsure of what had just happened, and I was hating the thought of sitting through a gym class all by myself. When I heard the first morning bell ringing, though, I knew I couldn't go back home. So, with a big sigh, I forced myself to move and headed into the building. Whatever was happening to Adam, it had to be more interesting than what I was going to sit through for the next few hours.

When Adam called me later that afternoon, I learned that he'd been taken down to the Goldenrock Police Station and been questioned about some act of vandalism. Turned out that somebody had suggested he had been the one to TP my yard and squirt that message on our garage door. My dad had made a report to the police that morning, and then someone had called with a tip-off, saying that Adam had been the one to do it. As if that wasn't weird enough, Dylan Doyle had also been dragged to the station for the same reason, so he couldn't have been the person who accused Adam. From what Adam said, both of them had been bailed out by their moms. Mrs. Nyler had given Adam an alibi by saying she'd gone to check on him before she went to bed at one o'clock in the morning, and he'd been completely asleep.

As for Dylan, Adam didn't know how he got off. And I didn't tell him that I'd actually seen Doyle at my house. I didn't say that I knew for a fact who'd been in my yard carrying out some destruction of property. It was just too much to think about. I did ask Adam if he wanted to come take a look at the damage before I started cleaning it up, though, and he agreed almost immediately. Once he came, the rest of the day flew by. Cleaning up was actually not so bad.