"Probably the animal blood," sighed Kat.
"Ick."
"This guy must have seen the police car go by and figured he was safe for a while," said Kat, walking up the front steps. "Come in and get warm. I'll call the cops."
"Sure," said Ian.
Kat felt oddly detached about the hate incident. It was as if it wasn't real. The first time it had happened she had been horrified and afraid. Now she was numb. It also felt odd to her that the first time she had Ian into her house without Lisa was as a result of something like this. Her house was so tiny compared to his, but she figured the police might want to talk to him. And it wasn't until just now that she noticed all the clutter. Newspapers were still flipped open to pertinent pages and strewn out on the table. The sofa looked worn, and there were a couple of dirty mugs and dishes left sitting on the coffee table in the living room. Her mother usually picked things up just before going to bed, but tonight she hadn't.
Ian seemed not to notice the mess and just followed Kat into the kitchen where she made the call. As she was on hold with the police, she heard a bedroom door open and close. A few moments later, her bathrobed grandfather, squinting from the kitchen light, stood in the doorway.
"This is an odd time to be entertaining, zolota zhabka," said Danylo. Kat noticed that his eyes sparkled in recognition when he saw Ian.
Just then, an officer came on the line. Danylo listened in alarm to Kat's report. "And my friend Ian and I actually interrupted the guy in the midst of doing it," she said.
"We'll be right over."
By the time Kat had hung up the phone, the whole household was awake. Orysia was dressed in a long pyjama top and she had thrown a terry cloth robe over it, but her feet were bare. Genya came down, heard what was happening, and went back upstairs to sleep.
The same two policemen who had encountered Kat and Ian in the park were the ones who arrived at the door. Kat noticed their barely concealed scepticism as Ian described running after the culprit. After the interview, she and Ian led them outside and showed them the half-painted swastika and the margarine dish of blood. Inwardly, she was thankful that neither she nor Ian had touched anything with their hands. She could just see them accusing her or Ian of doing this! One of the officers gingerly placed the container of animal blood in an evidence bag, then put it on the floor in the passenger side of the patrol car. He then turned to Ian and said, "We'll give you a lift home, son." He opened the back door of the cruiser.
As they pulled out of the driveway, Ian called out to Kat, "See you at school tomorrow, okay?"
As they drove off, Kat realized with a start that she still had Ian's jacket over her shoulders.
CHAPTER 22
KAT'S HEART BEAT rapidly when she saw the school bus pull up at her stop the next morning. She noticed Michael sitting in one of the seats, but the space beside him was full. None of the other kids even glanced at her as she stepped in and walked down the aisle. This was actually normal — studied indifference. She was about to sit down in one of the empty seats near the front when she glanced at the back and saw that Ian and Lisa were there. She was angry at herself for feeling a twinge of jealousy. Kat saw Ian look up at her. He motioned with his eyes for her to come and sit with him and Lisa. She noticed that Lisa had also looked up and was gesturing encouragingly too. She wanted to be close to Ian because she knew he was her friend. Also, she had his leather jacket neatly folded in her knapsack. She gave them both a faint smile, then walked down to the back and sat down with them.
It felt odd walking into art class that day. Kat expected her classmates to ogle her curiously, but that didn't happen. When she sat in her usual spot behind Michael, he turned about and gave Kat a self-conscious grin.
"How are you holding up?" he asked.
So he knew.
As if he could read her thoughts, Michael said, "Nah, my Dad doesn't talk shop at home. I put two and two together when I read yesterday's paper."
Kat nodded in acknowledgement. Beth, who had been doodling on a blank sheet of paper on her desk, looked up, a frown creasing her brow. "What are you guys talking about?"
The comment surprised Kat. Didn't everyone here know what had happened to her grandfather? What was she supposed to say to Beth?
Michael saved her by quickly replying, "Kat's grandfather needs some immigration papers filed, and my Dad's looking after it."
"Oh," said Beth, not remotely interested. "And that was in the paper? Boy, this is a boring town."
If only, thought Kat.
Beth's lackadaisical attitude contrasted greatly with Mr. Harding's when he walked into class a few moments later. Kat noticed that he scanned the room, saw her sitting there, and immediately locked eyes with her. The stare made her blush, and so she looked down at her notebook.
They were working on detailed pencil sketches of an object. Kat's object of choice was her left running shoe. It was an emotional relief to be able to concentrate on replicating every stitch, every fabric crease of her old Nike. It was sheer pleasure to be involved in an activity that involved the skill of her hands, but left her mind free to wander.
"It's good to see you back at school, Kat," Mr. Harding said. He was standing right behind her.
Kat was so startled that she nearly fell off her stool. She had been so engrossed with her work that she hadn't seen through the corner of her eye when Mr. Harding crept beside her.
"Come see me after class, Kat," said Mr. Harding.
When the bell rang at the end of the class, Kat lagged behind and watched as her classmates filed out. Mr. Harding was sitting at his desk, sorting through papers. Kat stood politely before him, waiting for him to look up. She hoped he wouldn't be too long; any moment now, students for the next period would start filing in.
Mr. Harding looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks for staying," he said. "I wanted to talk to you alone for a moment." He shuffled some papers on his desk and then said, "I know about your grandfather's upcoming hearing."
Kat nodded. She'd figured that one out.
Mr. Harding propped his elbows up on his desk and held his hands together as if he were praying. "I want you to know that I don't hold it against you because of what your grandfather did," he said.
Kat could feel her heart pound in her chest. She had done nothing wrong. And as far as she knew, neither had her grandfather. Yet Mr. Harding wasn't going to hold it against her? This was so confusing.
"And I want you to know," continued Mr. Harding, "that if you fall behind in some of your assignments, don't worry. These are unusual circumstances."
Kat nodded. He was being so nice, but it somehow didn't feel nice. She was afraid to say anything in case a sob escaped her throat.
"Please realize that my door is open," said Mr. Harding. "If you start to run into difficulties with your school work, come to me before too much of it slips away. We'll work something out."
Kat blurted out a "thank you," then swallowed back a rush of tears. She ran out of the room.
Michael's locker was just a few doors down from Mr. Harding's class. As Kat rushed out of the room, she noticed out of the corner of her glasses that Michael had taken his blue winter coat from his locker and was regarding her with worry. She rushed past him without even acknowledging his presence and headed for the exit.
CHAPTER 23
WHEN SHE STEPPED off the bus at the end of her street, Kat noticed that there was a buzz of activity in the direction of her house. She clutched her books to her chest and walked down the sidewalk. A TV van was parked in front of the house, and another was idling across the street.