Tagged Read Free Page B

socks, lime-green Crocs, a black hoodie and a safari hat.
    â€œDon’t you think this makes a statement?” he asked.
    â€œAnd just what statement were you going for?”
    â€œThe ‘I’m above fashion’ fashion statement.”
    â€œI’m not sure about being above fashion, but you’re certainly apart from it.”
    â€œWhat it really means is that my mom skipped a week of laundry and these are the closest things I have to clean.”
    â€œThat I not only understand but appreciate.”
    Julia was waiting in front of her house. She was always on time, and I knew we were a little bit late. She looked at her watch as we drove up—her not-so-subtle way of letting us know we’d kept her waiting. I opened the door and scrunched against the dashboard so she could push my seat forward and squeeze into the backseat. I slammed the door and we started off.
    â€œWe’re going to the art gallery,” I announced.
    â€œYeah, right. Where are we really going?”
    â€œWe are,” Oswald said. “We’ll take in a little culture and then buy you one of your two free lunches. I just don’t know why everybody is questioning my choice of activities. How can I become an artist if I don’t go to see art?”
    â€œDoes the new Oswald know that the art gallery may not be open this early?”
    Julia asked.
    â€œIt’s open.”
    â€œAre you sure? It’s had its hours reduced as part of Mayor Dumfrey’s cost-saving program,” Julia said.
    The art gallery, libraries, community theater, parks and rec programs, bus routes and pools had all had their hours or services cut to save money.
    â€œAre you questioning my knowledge of the art world?” Oswald asked.
    â€œThat goes without saying,” said Julia “Weekdays, with the exception of Monday and Tuesday, when it’s closed, it is open from ten until seven. Saturday, it is open from eleven-thirty until six, and Sunday from three until six.”
    â€œObviously, somebody called and asked,” I said.
    â€œOr perhaps I just know intuitively. Art is my life…remember?”
    â€œRight, and when was the last time you were even at the art gallery?” Julia asked.
    â€œI can guarantee I was there much more recently than you,” he said. She didn’t respond. “But of course you have been to a couple of outdoor art showings,” he added.
    â€œThat’s not art—it’s just fancy graffiti,” she said.
    â€œAt least she’s admitting that it’s fancy,” I said.
    â€œFancy or not, it’s still graffiti.”
    â€œI guess that makes you and Mayor Dumfrey the same,” I said.
    I’d read enough in the papers to know how much he was campaigning against the city being “defaced.”
    â€œThere can’t be two people who are more different than him and me,” she protested.
    â€œI guess we’ll have a better chance to compare the two of you next week when he comes to speak at the school,” I said.
    â€œA sure sign that the election is coming up,” Julia said. “I’m already tired of his commercials—law and order, budget cuts, encouraging business, cutting taxes. So far, the only things he’s cut are things I need.”
    â€œBut it does sound like you support his program to paint over graffiti,” Oswald said.
    â€œWell, I guess I do. Don’t you get tired of seeing people spray-painting their names and initials and symbols all over?”
    â€œA little,” I admitted. “But there’s a difference between scrawling your initials on a wall and genuine art on that same wall.”
    â€œIt’s all still illegal.”
    â€œBut one takes real skill.”
    â€œSo if I rob a bank in a really skilled way, then it shouldn’t be a crime?” she asked.
    â€œOf course it’s still a crime, but this is different. It’s public property,” I