Zee's Way by Kristen Butcher Read Free Book Online Page B

the group. Everyone seemed to be waiting for somebody else to do the talking.
    As usual, it was Horace. He shrugged. “Okay—so we give it a few days. What have we got to lose?”
    Horace had stuck his neck out for me with the other guys, but I don’t know that he was any more convinced. It seemed like I was the only one who thought things were going to work out. Maybe it’s because I’d been part of the negotiations. I’d been around Feniuk for nearly two weeks and I knew what he was like. Though the two of us might not see eye to eye on everything, I was pretty sure the old man would keep his word. But, of course, my friends couldn’t know that. All they had to go by was me. And considering I was spending almost as much time with Feniuk as I was with them, I could understand why they were nervous.
    I wished things would hurry up and get settled. I hated being stuck in the middle.But after two days, nothing had changed. Well, actually there had been one change, but that had nothing to do with the guys and me. At least I don’t think it did.
    Bernie’s Shoe Repair had gone out of business. Overnight the space had been cleared out and there was a For Lease sign in the window. Not a surprise really—if you think how many people wear runners these days. I might have thought my friends and I had scared him away, but none of us had ever even gone into that store. I guess nobody else had either.
    As for the mural, it was finally starting to look like something, though not exactly what I’d planned. To one side of the door I’d painted a handful of merchants—Mrs. Costello, Bingham from the pharmacy, the guy who owned the hair salon, the Loonie Bin lady and, of course, Jackman. But instead of making them look mean and nasty and evil like I’d intended, I turned them into caricatures. They didn’t totally look like themselves, but anyone whoshopped at Fairhaven would recognize them and have a laugh.
    Mike would’ve said I’d sold out, but I thought of the move more as insurance. I still wasn’t finished the mural, and if things didn’t work out, I’d go back to my original plan. But until the merchants made a decision about us, there was no sense getting them riled up.
    Mrs. Costello was the first test. She showed up just as I was packing up for the day. The guy who owned the dry-cleaning store was with her.
    â€œOhhhhh!” she gasped, her gaze flitting over the entire mural and finally coming to rest on the caricature of herself.
    Though I continued to pack up my stuff, I kept one eye on her. For about a minute, she didn’t do anything but stare at the mural. I started to get worried. What if she hated it?
    But I guess she didn’t, because finally she put her hand over her mouth and started to giggle like a little girl. Then she pointed to the caricature and said to the guy from thedry cleaners, “Do you see that? It’s me! It’s a drawing of me.”
    The guy started to laugh. “Yeah. And it looks just like you. You and Peterson, Jackman, Mrs. Wilson and Bingham. You’re all perfect. What a hoot!”
    Mrs. Costello’s smile evaporated and she wagged a finger under the guy’s nose. “Didn’t I tell you the boy was an artist?”
    He nodded. “Yes, you did. You certainly did.”
    Though I was relieved that Mrs. Costello didn’t mind seeing herself on the wall, it felt weird to hear myself being talked about like I wasn’t there. I picked up my paint supplies and stood up to leave.
    Instantly Mrs. Costello glommed onto my arm and pulled me toward the dry-cleaning guy as if she was showing off a prize poodle. “This is him,” she beamed.
    The guy stuck out his hand, and then realizing mine were full, he pulled it back again. “George Riley,” he said. “I own Fairhaven Cleaners.”
    I nodded.
    Mrs. Costello poked me in the back. “Well, tell him your name. Go