You're Welcome, Universe

YOU'RE WELCOME, UNIVERSE

Text, jacket art, and interior illustrations copyright © 2017 by Whitney Gardner

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children's Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

FINAL BOOK INCLUDES ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR

Six stencils in and it's gone. Okay, the tag vanished by Stencil Number Two, but I have a point to prove. I'm not covering up your scribbled slur with just anything. I'm making art here. I'm creating. I'm on fire.

I've never thrown up such an intense piece—I was worried I wouldn't be able to pull it off in time. My arm flies across the wall, pink paint striping across the last stencil. It looks like it's going to work out. I chuckle to myself. This is what it's all been for, the hours of paint-pen practice, filling up every inch of every sketchbook with tags and words and pictures. All my hard work has paid off, and it's all up here on the wall.

I know I shouldn't be tagging the school. I know that. But I wasn't the first, and that mess had to go. Jordyn told the principal that someone tagged the gym, she had to. The vandal singled her out, and word gets around real quick at Kingston School for the Deaf. But three weeks went by, and "Jordyns a SLUT" was still there on the back of the gym for all to see. And good ole Principal Howard hadn't done a damn thing.

No one gets to call my best friend a slut, especially not up on a wall, not on my turf. She asked for help, and I took matters into my own paint-stained hands. I designed a killer piece, cut out the stencils, shook up the cans, and got to work.

I'm getting away with it. I'm about to get up. On my way to becoming an all-city queen of street art. I rip down the last stencil, take a step back, and admire my work. It's killer. You're welcome, Universe. I check over both of my shoulders again, eyes on constant watch. I can't rely on my ears, so my eyes work overtime. It's nice and dark. I pretend I'm nothing but a shadow.

I'm so proud I just can't help myself and I text Jordyn a picture of the new mural on my way back home.

"You don't have any proof!" I snap at our principal.

"Don't lie to me, Julia. You'll only make it worse." His hands are big, with stubby fingers. He might be hearing, but he signs perfectly. He has to, or he never would have gotten the job.

"I'm not lying! You can't say it was me." I know there are no cameras on that side of Kingston. I know there won't be any footage to review.

"I have all the proof I need. Look at your hands!"

I'm so stupid. I was being lazy. I'm going to need to buy gloves. Lots and lots of gloves.

"This was from art class." I sign as fast as I can before dropping my hands out of view and into my lap.

"I'm going to give you one more chance to tell the truth, Miss Prasad." Mr. Howard seems more agitated than angry. He keeps sighing, looking at me with droopy, tired eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you. Sorry." Let me go already, you've got nothing. He stares at me, waiting for a better answer. I'm not giving it to him. I'm not confessing to anything, as much as I want to take credit for it. He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Well, what can you tell me about this?"

My heart shakes up in my chest like a paint can as he produces a cell phone from his desk drawer, the case dotted with red cherries. It's Jordyn's. He slides it across the desk like some detective on Law & Order.