CHAPTER 1

“Look at that.” Mr. Costa pointed to the metal shutters covering his store window. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”

Someone had spray-painted on them:

SHOO-33

“I’ve seen worse,” Makayla said. “Bubble style is kinda old-fashioned, but it’s not bad for something done in a hurry.”

Mr. Costa stared at her.

“Who’s the girl?” he asked Mr. Harris.

“Makayla’s my apprentice,” Mr. Harris said. “She’s working for me while she learns about house painting. But she knows more than me about graffiti.”

“That’s called ‘bubble style’,” Makayla said, “because the letters are round like bubbles. See?”

“I don’t want you to teach me about it,” Mr. Costa said. “I want you to clean it up. Once we stop cleaning up graffiti, the whole neighborhood soon goes downhill.”

“Better to paint over it, Mr. Costa.” Makayla ran a finger over the shutters. “The cleaning materials could damage the metal. I’ll need to go over it a few times, or you might get a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Mr. Costa’s eyes were bulging.

“That’s when you can still see the graffiti through the paint. Don’t worry, Mr. Costa. We’ll have your shutters looking good as new in a few hours. And we’ll use special paint, so no one can graffiti them again.”

“You know far too much about all this,” Mr. Costa said suspiciously.

Then he saw a customer turn away from the store because the gate was down.

“Ma’m, Ma’m! Come back!” Mr. Costa ran after the customer. “We’re definitely open!”

“I think she suspects you’re the graffiti artist,” Mr. Harris said, opening a can of paint.

“That would be one way to keep us busy,” Makayla said. “I could go round spraying walls, then charge people to clean it up. Hey, I’m joking! No need to look at me like that.”

“I hope you’re joking, young lady,” Mr. Harris said. “If I hear you’re breaking the law, that’s the end of your apprenticeship.”

“No way,” Makayla said. “I was lucky it was you who caught me graffitiing your wall that time. Anyone else would have called the police. You gave me a job.”

She looked at the graffiti.

“Anyway, you can see it’s not me. ‘Shoo-33’ isn’t my tag.”

“Your tag?”

“Yeah, your tag is your identity.”

“What was your tag then?” Mr. Harris asked.

“I was K-Lass.”

Mr. Harris considered this.

“OK, I get the K, like in your name. But what does ‘lass’ mean?”

“My grandpa was Irish; he used to call me ‘lass’. It just means ‘girl’. And then you put it together, and it says I’ve got class!”

Mr. Harris was grinning at her.

“OK, I’ve grown out of it,” Makayla laughed. “But I was proud of it at the time.”

CHAPTER 2

Mr. Costa was closing up by the time they’d finished painting over the graffiti. He was happy when he saw their work, but not so happy when presented with the bill.

“This is what they don’t understand,” he grumbled. “I have to spend hours on my feet in that shop, just to pay for the damage they’ve done. And that’s before I’ve paid any rent or put food on my table.”

Makayla felt a little guilty, when she thought about all the walls she had tagged, and how much it had cost people she didn’t even know. However, she needed to catch the remaining daylight, and hurried off to the community center.

Mrs. Kim was outside, looking at Makayla’s work.

“Hey, Mrs. Kim!” Makayla said. “What do you think of it?”

The painting filled nearly the whole wall. Mrs. Kim was there, larger than life, and so were most of the staff from the center. Other people from the neighborhood were included too: Officer Li, Mrs. Flores from the bodega, even the old guy who wheeled around a shopping cart full of plush toys. Makayla hadn’t included herself in the painting, but in one corner, in small letters, she’d added her tag: “K-Lass,” and the year.

“It’s very good,” Mrs. Kim said, “though I wish you hadn’t made me quite so big.”

“You’re a big person ‘round here, Mrs. K.”

Mrs. Kim laughed, and left Makayla to her work.

Makayla spread a plastic sheet on the ground to catch any drips, then took her spray cans out of her bag and started painting. There was an empty space in the corner, and she decided to add Mr. Costa to the picture. She hoped it would cheer him up when he saw it.

After a while she realized someone was watching her: a girl, a couple of years younger than she, round-faced and wide-eyed, wearing a little too much make-up. When she saw Makayla had noticed her, she grinned shyly.

“That’s fire,” she said, pointing to the picture.

“Thanks!” Makayla said. “It’s called a ‘mural’. That means a painting that covers a whole wall.”

The girl noticed the tag in the corner of the painting, and shrieked.

“You’re K-Lass?!”

“Yeah,” Makayla said, a little embarrassed now.

“I used to see your name everywhere,” the girl said, “when I was just a kid. There’s one up on a railroad bridge, a couple of blocks away that’s still there! I suppose it’s too hard to reach; that’s why no one has painted over it. I always wondered how you got up to those high places.”

“By doing stupid, dangerous things,” Makayla said. “That’s one of the reasons I gave it up. I only do legal walls now, like this one. What’s your name?”

“Cee Cee,” the girl said.

“That’s pretty,” Makayla said, but Cee Cee looked annoyed.

“I hate my name,” she said. “My parents are French Canadian, so they named me after Celine Dion.”

Makayla laughed.

“Hey,” she said, “remember, it’s not the name they give you that matters, it’s the name you make for yourself.”

“You used to have a name.” A gruff voice interrupted them.

Makayla recognized the voice and didn’t turn around.

“Oh, hey Jonah. How you been?”

“I’m doing great.”

She glanced back.

“You don’t look great. What’s happened to you?”

His face was thin, and his clothes were worn and dirty. When they used to hang out together, he always dressed well.

“I’m the same as I ever was,” Jonah said. “It’s you who’s changed.”

Makayla stopped painting and faced Jonah.

“I’ve grown up, Jonah,” she said. “We’re teenagers. We’re supposed to change, remember?”

“You used to be queen of this city,” he said. “Then you turned your back on your crew.”

“I’m still painting walls,” Makayla said. “But now I get paid for it, and it makes people happy instead of angry.”

“Sellout,” Jonah said, and limped away.

CHAPTER 3

“He doesn’t seem to like you,” Cee Cee said.

Makayla sighed.

“We used to be friends,” she said. “We’d go out tagging together. He was Whale—maybe you saw his tag around back then? Whale, Starfly, Bento, and me. We were a crew.”

“It sounds great,” Cee Cee said wistfully.

“It nearly ruined our lives,” Makyala said. “I was lucky. I got caught by Mr. Harris when I was spraying his wall. Instead of calling the cops, he made me clean it up while he talked to me about painting. Now I’m his apprentice. Someday, I’ll have a business of my own, and for fun I get to do murals like this.”

They chatted a little longer, and at last Cee Cee drifted off. When she had gone, Mrs. Kim came out of the center.

“It’s nice of you to spend some time with Cee Cee,” Mrs. Kim said. “That poor girl hasn’t had an easy life, you know. But you will have the painting ready in time for our anniversary celebration on Saturday, won’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. K.,” Makayla said. “It’s nearly done. I’ll finish it before I go home tonight.”

The sunlight was fading as she added the finishing touches to her mural. She was late for dinner, but her parents forgave her when they heard what she’d been doing. She told them about meeting Cee Cee, and about seeing Jonah. Dad frowned.

“I don’t like that boy,” he said. “He’s trouble.”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Makayla said. “I’m not interested in hanging out with Jonah. I have better things to do with my time.”

When she arrived at work the next morning, Mr. Harris was busy with paperwork.

“We’re not starting the job at Beacon Hill until tomorrow,” he said, “so I’m getting the accounts up to date. Go get me a coffee, please. Flat white.”

As she waited at the coffee shop, Makayla’s cellphone rang.

“Makayla,” Mrs. Kim said, “you need to come down to the community center as soon as you can. It’s your mural. Something awful has happened.”

She wouldn’t say any more, and Makayla grabbed the coffee and ran back to the workshop. Mr. Harris was sympathetic.

“You go and check what’s up. I don’t really need you here today.”

Makayla could see what the problem was as soon as she arrived. The tag “SHOO-33” had been painted over her mural, over and over again.

“Oh no,” she said.

“Why would anyone do such an awful thing?” said Mrs. Kim, who had come outside to join her.

“It’s called ‘capping’,” Makayla said. “It’s a way of disrespecting someone, by painting over their work and ruining it.”

“But who could dislike you enough to spoil your lovely painting?”

“I don’t know,” Makayla said. “Excuse me, Mrs. K. I need to make a call.”

She took out her cell phone and tapped the screen.

“Hey, Jaz,” she said. “It’s Makayla. I need your help. Can you get the Fixers together?”

The Fixers were Makayla’s new crew. They were all apprentices like her, each with their own skills, which they used to make their neighborhood a better place. Makayla knew she could rely on them.

She spent the day trying to repair the damage to the painting, and as she finished work her friends arrived one by one. Jazmin came first; she was their leader, though she hated it when they called her “Bossgirl.” Connor drove up in the old wreck of a car that he fixed up at the garage where he worked. Sage was next, cheerful and joking as usual, and Roberto finally turned up grumbling that he’d been stuck working late on a flooded basement.

“Wow,” he said, when he saw the mural. “Someone really doesn’t like you.”

“You should have seen it earlier,” Makayla said. “Thanks for coming, guys.”

“Hey girl, you know we’ve got your back,” Jazmin said. “We’re the Fixers!”

CHAPTER 4

“Do you know who Shoo-33 is?” Jaz asked.

“No. I’ve only seen that once before at Mr. Costa’s store,” Makayla said.

“Maybe someone is trying to make a name for themselves?” Connor suggested.

“But why pick on me?” Makyla said. “There’s a whole city out there. No, this is personal.”

“So who’s got beef with you?” Roberto asked.

Makayla frowned.“Nobody, as far as I know. Except perhaps -”

“Your graffiti crew,” Jaz said. “You never really told us what happened there.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Makayla said. “Anyway, if it was one of them, they’d use their old tag. They’d want me to know who’d done it.”

“Still,” Jazmin said, “we ought to ask them. They might know something.”

Makayla shivered. “OK.”

As they crammed into Connor’s car, Sage squeezed her arm.

“Hey,” she said, “I know how hard it can be to face your past. You’ve got friends with you now though, real friends.”

“Thanks,” Makayla said. “Let’s go see Starfly first.”

She directed Connor to the store where her old friend worked. It was a huge supermarket in a mall by the highway, and they had to walk up and down brightly-lit aisles before they found Starfly stacking cereal boxes.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she said as they approached.

“Good to see you too, Starfly,” Makayla said.

“I don’t use that name anymore. Call me Sarah. Or better still, just walk out of here.”

“Starfly—Sarah—we need your help,” Jaz said. “We’re looking for someone, uses the tag Shoo-33.”

Sarah ignored her and spoke only to Makayla.

“And where were you when Jonah needed your help?” she said. “You turned your back on us.”

Makayla was looking at her thoughtfully.

“Hey, Sarah, is your birthday coming up soon? No, March 3rd, isn’t it? Three-three. Shoo-fly 33?”

A manager with a name badge and clipboard arrived.

“Sarah, is everything all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Singh,” Sarah said, and hissed to Makayla:

“I told you, I don’t do that stuff anymore. Just leave me alone. Do you want me to lose my job?”

“Where next?” Connor said as they drove away from the mall.

“Let’s try Bento,” Makayla said. “Though he probably won’t be any more helpful than Starfly was.”

When they pulled up outside his house, Makayla insisted on going there on her own. She didn’t want to worry Bento’s mother, who answered the door.

“Oh, Makayla!” she said. “How kind of you to visit! It’s been so long.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jameson,” Makayla said. “No, I won’t come in, thanks. I just need to speak to Benjamin. Is he in?”

Mrs. Jameson looked sad.

“Haven’t you heard? Benjamin is in jail.”

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that,” Makayla said. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“He gets out in a few months,” Mrs. Jameson called after her. “I’m sure he’d love to see you!”

“Well, at least we know he didn’t do it,” Jaz said, when Makayla told her friends the news.

“Only one thing left, then,” Makayla said. “It’s time to go and see Jonah.”

CHAPTER 5

She wasn’t sure Jonah would respond to her DM, but he sent a message saying he would meet her “you know where.” When they arrived at the railroad bridge, he was standing alone, staring up to where her tag, “K-Lass”, could still be seen in faded white paint.

“I can’t believe you’d want to come here,” she said, “after what happened.”

“Have you told your new friends what happened?” Jonah said. “Do they know what sort of friend you are?”

Makayla couldn’t say anything.

“I’ll tell them, OK?” Jonah said. “See that tag?? We both climbed up there. Makayla painted her tag first, but when it was my turn, I slipped and fell. And your friend here ran away.”

“I called an ambulance,” Makayla said quietly. “What use was it for me to stay around?”

“Starfly stayed. Bento stayed.”

“I was scared!!” Makayla yelled. “We were only kids.”

“The doctors said I was lucky to walk again,” Jonah continued.

“Look, I’m sorry for what happened to you,” Makayla said. “But it wasn’t my fault. It was your idea to tag the bridge. I just went along with it. And you need to move on now. You can’t spend your whole life feeling sorry for yourself. I’m not that person any more, and neither are you.”

“Makayla’s right,” Jaz said. “Whatever she did in the past, she’s a good friend and a good person now. And if you go near her mural again, you’ll have the Fixers to deal with.”

“I laughed when I saw that stupid mural had been capped,” Jonah said, “but it wasn’t me. If I’d done it, it would have said ‘Whale’ in letters ten feet high. I have no idea who ‘Shoo-33’ is.”

“Maybe,” Makayla said, “it’s time you stopped being Whale, and found out who Jonah Parker is.”

They left Jonah scowling under the bridge.

“Do you believe him?” Sage asked.

“Actually, I do,” Makayla said. “He would never use a different tag.”

“So we’re no closer to finding out who Shoo-33 is,” Roberto said glumly.

“We know one thing for sure,” Connor said. “Shoo-33’s been busy tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Makayla asked.

Connor pointed to a nearby wall. “Shoo-33” was sprayed on it.

“And there,” he said. “And over there…”

As they drove through the city they saw the tag everywhere and they finally got out to look closer.

“It can’t be Starfly then,” Jaz said. “We know she was at work.”

“This has to stop,” Makayla said. “Look at the damage that’s been done in one night.”

“Maybe there’s a clue in the tag,” Sage said. “Like you’re K-Lass, and Jonah is Whale because of the Bible story about Jonah living inside a whale.”

“Shoo-33,” Connor said thoughtfully. “Shoo means ‘go away’. Someone who’s angry?”

“Someone like Jonah,” Roberto said.

“It sounds like ‘shoe’,” Jaz suggested.

“So,” Sage said in a serious voice, “our mystery tagger is…someone who wears shoes. That narrows it down.”

They all laughed, glad the tension was relieved.

“I could eat a shoe right now,” Sage added.

“What,” Jazmin said, “are you talking about?”

“It’s a joke,” Sage said. “Choux is a sort of pastry, like in a chocolate éclair. It’s pronounced like ‘shoe’, but it’s written C-H-O-U-X. It’s French, you see. French mommas call their kids ‘my little choux.’”

“Of course,” Makayla said. “That’s it. Now I know who the tagger is.”

CHAPTER 6

In the dark of night, a figure crept from the shadows. The street lights were just bright enough to make out Makayla’s mural on the wall. The figure approached the wall. There was the pop of a top being removed, then the rattle of a spray can being shaken.

“Hold it, Shoo-33.” The Fixers emerged from the bus stop and approached the tagger. “We know who you are.”

The figure turned, and Makayla saw a pale face in the moonlight.

“How did you work it out?” said Cee-Cee.

“Your parents are French-Canadian, right?” Makayla said. “I bet your mom calls you her ‘little choux’. And C is the third letter of the alphabet. So, Shoo-33. But what I don’t get is why you would cap my mural. I thought we were friends.”

“Because Jonah was right about you,” Cee-Cee said. “You’re a sellout. You used to be my hero; now you’re nobody.”

“You think that makes you somebody?” Makayla said. “Having your tag on a wall for a few days, to impress a handful of people? That mural is going to be there for years, and everyone knows who painted it. Everybody in this neighborhood knows who I am, because I help them. That’s what I want to be known for. Now come on, we’ll take you home, before you get yourself in real trouble.”

Cee-Cee turned and ran. The Fixers chased after her, but she had vanished into the shadows.

“I don’t know what we’d do if we caught her anyway,” Connor said, when they had given up looking. “It’s not like we can arrest her.”

“She’s had a warning,” Roberto said. “If we see her tag around anywhere, we’ll have to tell Officer Li. So can we go home now? I’m cold, and tired.”

But Makayla was staring down the street.

“I think I know where she’s gone,” she said. “And if I’m right, we need to stop her.”

They raced to the railroad bridge. Cee Cee was already there, hanging dangerously over the side, trying to paint over Makayla’s tag.

“Don’t be stupid,” Makayla shouted. “Come down from there.”

“You just want to save your last tag!” Cee Cee called back. “But I’m going to cap it…then I’ll be the queen of the city.”

“I don’t care about the tag! I just don’t want you to—"

A shriek told Makayla she was too late. Cee Cee had slipped, and was hanging by her fingers from the bridge. Makayla thought fast.

“Connor, is my plastic sheet still in the car? Bring it here, quick.”

They pulled the sheet from the trunk, and positioned it directly under Cee Cee.

“OK,” Makayla said, “everyone take a corner. Lift it up. Step away, so it pulls tighter. Now, hold on!”

They were just in time. Cee Cee’s hands slipped, and she fell with a scream. She landed on the sheet, pulling it out of the Fixers’ hands, and crashed onto the asphalt.

“Is she OK?” Sage asked anxiously.

“I think we did enough to break her fall,” Makayla said.

Cee Cee was sitting up, rubbing her bruised elbows.

“Stay still,” Jazmin said. “I’m calling the paramedics.”

“I’m all right,” Cee Cee said, getting to her feet. “I don’t want you calling anyone.”

She stared at Makayla.

“Why did you help me?”

“Because that’s what we do,” Makayla said. “When Jonah fell, I ran away. But I’m not that person anymore. Real friends don’t run away; they run to you when you have a problem.”

“So,” Cee Cee suddenly looked hopeful. “Are we friends now? Can I join your crew?”

“Slow down there girl,” Makayla said. “First, you’ve got to help me fix my mural in time for the anniversary party.”

“I will, I promise,” Cee Cee said.

“And clean up all your tags,” Jazmin added. “If you want to be in the Fixers, you have to make a name for yourself. Not a tag to hide who you are, a name you can own, and be proud of.”

“OK, Bossgirl,” Cee Cee said.

Jazmin looked cross, but Makayla laughed.

“Come on then,” she said. “You can’t join our crew yet, but we’ll let you tag along!”