Life After Theft (18 page)

“I love you, too, Mom.” I smiled at her and a movement just above her head caught my eye. I glanced up and saw Kimberlee at the top of the stairs. The instant my eyes met hers she dropped her gaze, pivoted on one heel, and disappeared into my room.

FIVE O’CLOCK COMES WAY EARLY
on Sunday morning. “I don’t know why we have to do this at the buttcrack of dawn,” Kimberlee whined as I pulled a T-shirt over my head and attempted to lace my shoes with fumbly fingers.

“So nobody sees me. You may not be facing expulsion, but I certainly am.”

“Why do I have to come? It’s not like I can help.”

“Consider it penance. And you can keep watch,” I said, very quietly. My parents were sleeping like every other reasonable person in Santa Monica. I’d decided Officer Herrera was right; returning Kimberlee’s shoplifted items to corporate America over a year later wasn’t going to help anyone. Surely whatever cosmic power was keeping Kimberlee hostage here on earth would understand a little creativity in this instance. But thrift stores still turned around and sold stuff, cheap or not. I had a better idea. We were headed to a homeless shelter. I’d looked up the closest one.

It wasn’t very close.

Granted, I wasn’t completely sure what a bunch of homeless people were going to do with designer clothes and fashion accessories, but I’ve heard silk is warm.

Kimberlee griped the whole way down to her parents’ house. “Holy hell, Kimberlee!” I said, my patience finally snapping. “I don’t know what you’re bitching about. You’d think you actually could sleep or something.
I’m
the one who’s exhausted out of my mind!”

She glared at me. “Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I automatically like mornings.” But I could tell that even she knew it was a weak retort.

“Face it,” I said as I trudged through the sand, the chilly morning air cutting right through my hoodie. “This is your project as much as it is mine. What the hell am I talking about? This is your project way
more
than it is mine. What am I getting out of this? Nothing. Nada.” I turned and looked at her. “I honestly do not know why the hell I am still doing this!” I shouted. I am
not
a morning person.

“Be quiet,” Kimberlee said, glancing up to where you could just see the rooftop of her house. “My parents are actually home right now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Good! Maybe someone can catch me, find what’s in the cave, and take it away. Then I could get out of this whole crazy situation.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Kimberlee said, clearly more interested in placating me than actually apologizing.

“Whatever,” I grumbled.

It took me five trips to load my car up with the rest of the merchandise from stores. And even though I had totally altruistic motives, I had to admit it was a nice bonus that I would be able to take so much stuff back in one trip.

I pulled the rapidly dwindling roll of stickers out of my pocket and slapped one onto each box.

“Why are you doing that?” Kimberlee asked. “With Hennigan on the rampage, you’re more likely to get caught if you’re using those stickers on everything, even if this isn’t in school.”

“It’s my trademark,” I said. “I
like
it,” I added icily. Maybe I just liked that they still annoyed her. Small victories.

“Well, when Hennigan kicks your ass out of school, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

We drove for almost half an hour before we reached the homeless-shelter-slash-soup-kitchen I’d found online. There was no one at the back door, despite the huge line out front. I’d apparently caught the staff between garbage runs and cigarette breaks. That could last minutes . . . or seconds.

With my heart pounding I ran back and forth from my car to the porch, stacking boxes as fast as I could. I practically threw the last box on the top of the pile, and as I turned I heard it crash to the ground. I glanced back and saw something glittery and gold roll out onto the cement, but didn’t dare go back. I was already a little worried I’d been caught on some kind of camera and was about to experience my first manhunt. And I doubted every cop would be as nice or understanding as Officer Herrera.

I think I was a full ten minutes back on the road before I began breathing normally again. And, miracle of miracles, Kimberlee stayed quiet that whole time.

I glanced down at the dashboard clock. 6:21. “Sweet. I have enough time to go home and sleep for a few more hours,” I said, trying to stifle a yawn.

“What am I supposed to do?”

I shrugged. “Whatever you want. I’m not your social advisor.”

“Yeah, but I’m bored. You’re never around. If I let you sleep, can we watch a movie tonight?”

I just wanted her to stop talking. “Can’t. Have a date with Sera.” Assuming I could get home before I fell asleep and crashed my car.

“Edged out by the junkie cheerleader again,” she muttered.

“Would you shut up!” I half surprised myself when the words came shouting out of my mouth.

Kimberlee looked over at me with wide eyes. “What?”

“Nothing—not a word about Sera ever again, do you understand?”

“I have a right to not like her.”

“Then keep it to yourself!” I gripped the steering wheel harder. “The fact that
you
don’t like her is probably a compliment.”

“Screw you!” Kimberlee snapped.

“All you have done since I met Sera is rag on her and try to keep me away from her. But guess what? I like her. I like her a lot. You know who I like her a lot more than? You!”

“Yeah, ’cause she’s sooo much better than me.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Because she’s so innocent? Stuff happened before you got here that you can’t even
begin
to understand, and she was right in the middle of it. She’s lucky she’s not in
jail
. My dad would have put her away in a second.”

I briefly remembered Sera’s words the other night—
It’ll mess you up. It messed me up
—but pushed them to the back of my mind. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Why would you steal? I don’t know! Because you are a freaking
psychopath
!” I was out-and-out yelling now and it felt good. Weeks of holding my temper, despite everything, exploded out my mouth. “You’re mean and petty and spiteful! You hate everyone—as far as I can tell you’ve
always
hated everyone—and I don’t know why you can’t understand when everyone hates you back!”

“At least I’m not the one stumbling blindly down a path led by nothing but a pretty face and a nice ass, refusing to listen to anyone around me!”

I slammed on my brakes and skidded to the side of the road. “That’s it. Get out.”

Kimberlee looked out the window. “Here?” she said, wrinkling her nose. Her voice was calm—as if the entire conversation had never taken place.

“Here. Get out and don’t come back until you’re ready to accept my relationship with Sera. Because if you say one more thing about her—and I mean it—
one
more thing, I will take everything else in that cave and throw it in the ocean and you will
never
move on.”

It was an empty threat, but something in my voice must have convinced her I was serious, because her jaw dropped and for a second I thought she might cry. Then her eyes narrowed and her glare was all daggers. “Fine,” she hissed. “But when she breaks your heart into a million pieces because she’s not the perfect angel you think she is don’t come whining to me, because all I’ll say is I. Told. You. So.” She spun away from me, hair flying, and slid through the passenger-seat door. I peeled onto the freeway and forced myself not to look in my rearview, afraid that seeing her standing on the side of the highway might make me change my mind.

I was still a little grumpy when I rang the doorbell at Sera’s house that afternoon.

“Oh, Jeff,” her mom said, obviously not all that pleased to see me. “Come on in. Are you early?”

“Maybe a little,” I admitted. Fine. Half an hour. But I got sick of hanging around my house jumping at every noise, afraid it might be Kimberlee.

“Let me go see if Sera’s still in the gym.”

Oh man, I was so not going to miss this. I hurried to follow Sera’s mom through the hallways. Last week Sera told me about the gym. Not like with basketball hoops and tennis courts, but a spring floor and a bunch of gymnastics and weight equipment and big foamy mats that roll out so Khail can do wrestling stuff. It sounded amazing, but so far I hadn’t managed to get far enough into the house to actually see it. I was practically rubbing my hands in anticipation when Sera’s mom opened a totally normal-looking door.

And there she was.

Her back was to us and I don’t think she heard us come in. She was wearing a dark blue leotard with tiny black shorts over it. And she was doing pull-ups on a set of uneven bars. I counted as she struggled through her sixth one before dropping onto the ground, rubbing at her arms.

I couldn’t decide if it was sexy or intimidating to have a girlfriend who could do more pull-ups than me.

Sexy
, I finally decided. So long as we never had to go up against each other in some kind of public contest. That would be beyond humiliating.

Then her mom spoiled everything by clearing her throat. Sera turned and as soon as she saw me, she ducked her head and her whole face and neck flushed bright red.

“Jeff’s a little early,” her mom said as though that weren’t the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey,” I said, giving a totally lame-ass wave.

But Sera just looked at her mom. “I’ll be done in about five minutes; then I’ll send him back to the kitchen before I shower.”

“Please do,” Sera’s mother said as she left the gym, but not before pulling a little hand weight over and propping the door open.

I stepped closer to Sera and gestured at the open door. “Seriously?” I whispered, in case her mom was still in earshot.

Sera rolled her eyes. “She keeps me on a pretty short leash. At least when she’s in town. I love it when she goes on business trips with Dad. The longer, the better.”

“Why such a short leash?”

Sera was quiet for a few seconds. “I got into trouble a couple years ago,” she said quietly.

I had to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from fidgeting. “What kind of trouble?” I asked, not wanting to believe anything Kimberlee said, but not stupid enough to have missed all the little hints I’d been hearing the last couple weeks.

Sera waved the question away as she picked up a sweatshirt and pulled it over her head.

“You don’t have to dress up for me,” I said with a grin, reaching an arm out to loop around her waist.

She settled the sweatshirt down over her chest slowly before whispering, “If it were for you, I wouldn’t be putting clothes
on
.”

Oh. Hell. Yes
.

“But I’m cold.” To prove her point she laid chilly fingers along both sides of my face. I pulled her close and kissed her nose, and when she giggled I went for her mouth.

“The door,” she whispered, twisting away.

“So,” I said, checking out the expansive spring floor. “Are you going to do something cool for me?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I just finished the weight part of my workout and you should never tumble after weights. Way more likely to injure something.” She pushed up onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “You go and make nice with my mom and I’ll get ready. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

I snorted in disbelief.

“What? My mom’s not that bad. She’ll mostly just ignore you.”

“Not that. Fifteen minutes? I’ve never seen a girl get showered and ready in fifteen minutes.”

She flipped a confident look over her shoulder. “Time me.”

It took Sera exactly fourteen minutes and thirty seconds to get ready and I know because I looked at my watch every fifteen seconds the entire time she was gone. It wasn’t like Mrs. Hewitt grilled me. . . . She just didn’t do
anything
. Within the first thirty seconds after I walked into the kitchen she plunked down a glass of ice water in front of me—on a coaster, natch—and then said nothing. She straightened the countertops, flipped through a magazine, made notes about something in a notebook—I could only hope the notes weren’t about me—and nothing else. Not a word, not a sound.

So when I say that Sera was a sight for sore eyes, I mean she was really a sight, and that my eyes were seriously sore.

“You ready?” I asked as I stood. I didn’t take her hand or even touch her. I figured that could come later, out of sight of the mother.

“Back by ten,” her mom said, looking up from her magazine. “School tomorrow.”

Sera sighed as soon as she was safely ensconced in my car. “My mother,” she said. “I know she means well, but she’s such a perfectionist.”

“Well, she’s not here now,” I said, covering her hand with mine. “Just you and me.”

When we arrived at the movie theater, we walked up to the ticket booth and began looking through the titles.

“I think I’ve seen all of these,” Sera said.

“Like three times,” I replied. “I’m kind of surprised there’s nothing new. All of this has got to be on its way out.”

“Do you mind watching one again?”

I hesitated. “Maybe I’m not in the mood for a movie after all.”

“Well, I figure if we’ve seen it before, it won’t be as . . . distracting,” she said, her fingers skimming over my stomach as she wrapped her arm around my waist.

My voice was a little shaky as I turned to the ticket guy. I don’t remember which movie I picked.

But it was way better the fourth time.

I WAS CROUCHED BY MY
front bushes a few minutes before two a.m. when Khail’s truck swung by and the passenger door popped open. Turned out it was harder to sneak out of
my own house
than I expected it to be to break into the school. And even when I got around the alarm and the gate, I managed to get a faceful of motion-triggered security light at the last second.

As the truck pulled up, I sprinted to jump in and felt like a kid trying to avoid the monster under the bed.

“You ready?” Khail asked, sounding utterly calm. I have no idea how he did it.