The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [39]
And this time the risk paid off. Tyrell took to the challenge like my godfather, Bruce, to a bottle of moonshine. Slowly but surely the other kids on the task force began to bring me information. It was little things at first: The Graffiti Ninja was supposedly a sixth grader. She was a girl. She struck only during lunch and before school.
But it was Tyrell who busted the case wide open, just like I knew he would. I still don’t know how Tyrell did it, but he somehow got an actual photograph of the Graffiti Ninja drawing a picture on the gymnasium floor. I remember how my jaw dropped when he showed me the photo inside my tire.
“How did you get this?” I asked.
“Sorry, Mac, but I can’t reveal my methods,” he said.
I looked at the photo again.
It turned out the Graffiti Ninja was this sixth grader named Skylar Kuschel. People usually just called her Koosh because her name is funny and that’s what kids do when people have odd names.
She’s a pretty quiet kid, not too popular but not a complete dork either. She just kind of blended in with the crowd. I called a meeting with her and made a proposal: I would help her make money off her talents if she agreed to stop drawing on school property. I wouldn’t even take a cut of the earnings. She agreed, and I set her up with a business selling personalized drawings to kids. Man, did she make a lot of money selling those things for a few years. She’s in high school now, and I heard that she already has a few art schools that have been in touch with her. You’d think that the teachers might recognize her style, and maybe some even did, but in the end they had no proof that the Graffiti Ninja was her so there was nothing they could do anyway. Besides, teachers never suspect the “good kids” of troublemaking. Which is partially why Vince and I are able to get away with running our business right under everybody’s noses.
Anyways, back to the janitor. After I made the deal with Koosh, I sent a message home with the janitor’s son asking his dad to meet me. Still, I was kind of surprised when he showed up. I figured he thought I was too young to help him.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” I said as he wedged himself inside the tire.
“Yeah, my son said that you had news for me,” he said.
“I do, I do. I’ve found our graffiti artist,” I said.
“Really?” the janitor asked. I could tell he was skeptical, but there was also a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“And . . . I got her to stop drawing all over the school.”
He was silent. He looked at me and shook his head. Then he let a huge smile spread across his face. Right then I could tell he’s not like the other adults at the school.
“Are you serious?” he said.
I nodded. “Now it’s all just a question of payment.”
“Well, I have money, but . . . I think that I can offer you something a little more valuable.”
“I’m listening,” I said.
“Well, there’s this bathroom in the East Wing. It’s missing a toilet, has some plumbing problems, and is way back by the old band room, which is just a storage room now, so hardly anyone ever uses it. I still don’t know why they even put a bathroom back there in the first place, but I stopped asking the administration those types of questions a long time ago. It’s like asking a gerbil to explain quantum physics. Anyways, I was going to recommend to the school that this bathroom be closed down permanently . . . . But I think it might be of better use to you. Think of it as your new office. What do you say?” He smiled, a set of keys dangling from his hand.
“Are you serious?” I said. I didn’t think adults could be this cool. Especially not ones who work for the school.
“I sure am, Mac. You’re saving me a huge headache by getting