Life After Theft (27 page)

More silence. “Okay,” she finally said. “What do I do?”

I hadn’t really thought that part out. Probably best to just keep it simple. “I’ll be at the school at six tonight. I’ll meet them in the parking lot and I’ll bring stickers if they want proof. You call Hennigan and tell him that.”

“And you’ll be there?”

The words caught in my throat, but I choked them out, sealing my fate. “I promise.”

I stared at the phone for a long time after I hung up. Part of me wished I had thrown the phone away as soon as we’d finished our big return on Monday. Wished that by the time I figured out it was my lying about Kimberlee being on watch that got Khail caught, it was too late to help.

But then I would have to live with the guilt.

I’d told my mom to trust me. Assured her I was a good kid, just trying to do the right thing. And she
had
trusted me. How was I going to tell her I’d repaid that trust by getting myself expelled? And criminal charges—was Hennigan bluffing about that? I flopped back onto my bed and tried to think of a way to get out of this, even though I knew there wasn’t one. It was time to pay my dues. No good deed goes unpunished, and all that.

And the biggest irony of all? Kimberlee—the catalyst of everything that had gone wrong—was nowhere to be found.

The worst part was that Sera was going to be devastated when she found out it was me. I wasn’t sure which emotion would win out—anger or guilt—but either way, I’d screwed everything up for her, too.

For the first time since I was, like, ten years old, I had the urge to curl up on my bed and cry. Right then, I just wanted to get in Halle and drive back to Phoenix, where stuff like this didn’t happen.

But I couldn’t.

I looked over at my alarm clock to see how many minutes of my so-called life I had left when my eyes fell on something on my bedside table that I had forgotten about. A tiny flicker of hope sparked inside me as I reached over and picked it up.

It was my only chance.

I picked up my cell phone and made the call.

I was lying on the bed with an arm slung across my eyes when Kimberlee came bursting through my wall.

“You can’t do it!”

I just stared at her with my mouth agape.

“I know you have all these ideas about being noble and everything, but this is stupid and I won’t let you do it!”

“Hello to you, too,” I muttered sullenly.

She rushed over and sat beside me on the bed. “I’m serious,” she said—and she looked it. “You can’t turn yourself in. You don’t
deserve
this.”

“How did you know about that?”

She looked a little abashed. “I heard the other end of the conversation,” she admitted.

“You’ve been spying on Sera?”

“Well,
you
wouldn’t do it. And I
knew
there was something going on!”

I sighed.

“Won’t you at least admit I was right?”

“I knew you were right!” I said. “I
knew
something was going on; it was obvious. The point isn’t that there was or wasn’t anything going on, but that I
trusted
Sera had a good reason, and I was right.”

“She was spying for Hennigan! There’s no good reason for that!”

I rose to my feet. “Yes, there is! You heard what Sera said, but were you
listening
? She did this to protect Khail. She loves Khail more than anyone else in the world and was willing to do whatever it took to save him. That’s not something to scorn; it’s something to admire.”

“Admire? She’s siding with him instead of you!”

“He’s her
brother
.”

“And you’re her boyfriend!”

“Until she finds out,” I groaned, flopping back onto my bed.

She was quiet for a long time. “Why are you doing this? No one could blame you if you didn’t.”

I sat up and looked her in the eye. “Because it’s the right thing to do, Kimberlee.”

“Right according to who?” she asked, her tone plaintive rather than argumentative. “God? Fate? It’s not fair. Khail got caught; let him take the fall. He won’t tell anyone—I know he won’t—so Sera will never know it was you. You
don’t have to do this
.”

“Yes, I do!” I shouted, surprised at my own fervor. “Getting caught isn’t what makes something wrong. Even if Sera never found out, I would know.”

Kimberlee glared at me, almost as if she could use some new ghostly power to change my mind. Then her eyes widened. “But you have a plan, don’t you?” she said quietly. “I mean, in the end this is all a setup. It’s all just part of the plan, right?”

It was hard to look at her. She believed I really was some kind of master planner. I’d gotten lucky before, but really, that was all it was. Luck. And my luck had run out.

“No,” I said. “I don’t have a plan. I . . . I thought I did for a minute, but . . .” I shrugged and then my hands flopped helplessly at my sides. “It’s not going to work.”

“So you’re seriously going to go over to that school tonight and turn yourself in because it’s ‘the right thing to do’?”

It did sound irrational the way she said it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did anything else. I nodded.

Kimberlee looked at me with a mixture of sadness and pity on her face. Then she straightened up and her mask came back. “You’re crazy,” she said bitterly. “And stupid. I’ve never met anyone as stupid as you.”

Then she turned and left, sliding through the wall and out of sight.

TERRIFIED IS THE LEAST OF
what I was when I turned into the parking lot at six that night. I could see three cars against the curb near the front entrance and wondered who Hennigan had called for backup.

I pulled right up close and stalled for a few seconds, taking in the scene. Hennigan stood stiffly in front of the main entrance, eyeing my car, but I knew he couldn’t see me through the tinted windows. He started to take a step forward, then stopped, pressed his lips together, and apparently decided to wait for me to make the first move.

Coward
.

Beside him, looking a little embarrassed, was our assistant principal, Mrs. Bailey. I knew what she’d gotten back: a homemade frame made by her young son with a family picture inside. I’d be embarrassed to be there if I were her, too.

I did, however, almost laugh at the irony when I saw that the third member of the party—almost certainly summoned against his will—was Coach Creed. I knew from a brief discussion with Khail yesterday that the whole team would be leaving very early the next morning for State. I had no doubt Mr. Hennigan had blackmailed their coach into being here as “the muscle” by threatening his two-time state champion with expulsion if I got away, the same way he’d put pressure on Sera. Coach Creed’s arms were flexed across his chest and, despite the fact that Kimberlee had never stolen anything from Creed, I would bet that given the choice he’d rather strangle Hennigan than me.

I shifted into park and Mr. Hennigan got a very strange mixture of excitement and fear on his face as the engine died. I had just unlatched my seat belt and reached for the door handle when light flashed across my eyes. Another car was pulling into the parking lot.

I couldn’t help but feel nauseous when I saw the row of lights across the top of the black-and-white cruiser as the cop parked just behind Hennigan’s car and stepped out.

I hoped I was doing the right thing.

There was nothing more I could do now. I slid out of my seat, stood, and swung my car door shut.

Hennigan blinked several times. “Mr. Clayson, what are you doing here?”

I reached into the pocket of my hoodie and grabbed what was left of the stickers. I tossed them down in front of me and then added the master key, which tinkled almost melodically. “I said I’d be here, and here I am.”

For a long, tense moment, nobody moved or spoke.

“But . . . but . . .” Hennigan sputtered, “you just moved here.” I could almost see him reviewing our interaction from Monday morning in his head—knowing he’d had the culprit in his grasp. “How could
you
have stolen everything?”

“I didn’t,” I said, my voice much steadier than my legs. But this would be my only chance to have my say and I was going to. “It was never about stealing. It was about giving things back. You were so focused on what you were sure I’d done wrong you didn’t stop to see what I was trying to do right.”

I knew my words wouldn’t convince Hennigan, but I saw Mrs. Bailey and Coach Creed nodding. The cop didn’t move from his spot beside his cruiser. He was so still I wondered if he was even breathing.

Hennigan’s face was turning red as he realized his plan to catch a notorious thief was crumbling to dust in front of the cop, in front of his employees. But I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily. He wiped the shock off his face and pointed a finger at me. “It doesn’t matter. Your list of infractions is still plenty long. Destruction of school property, breaking into lockers, trespassing at
my home
!” he said, as if the personal offense was the greatest one of all. “If you really are this Red Rose Returner person”—he said the name like it was a bad word—“then you’re guilty of all those.”

I nodded. “And I take full responsibility.”

Hennigan smiled as if he had caught me in some elaborate trap instead of asking a very straightforward question. “There!” he said, calling out to the police officer now. “He admitted it. Arrest him!”

The cop began to walk toward me. His eyes met mine for a second and then I turned, giving him my hands before he could ask. My breath was short as the cuffs clicked shut. In a matter of moments I’d been read my rights and the cop had set me in the back of his car and slammed the door.

It was over.

What the hell had I just done?

The cop went and talked with the adults for a few minutes, then got into the cruiser and closed his door.

“Officer—”

“Not here for small talk,” he said, cutting off my words and flipping on the radio.

It was a surprisingly short drive to the police station. The cop pulled up to a well-lit side door and I got my first good look at him. He was tall and blond, and even though most of his bulk was the kind you get from cheeseburgers, I suspected he could rough me up without any trouble. Pleasant thoughts. His badge said
BURKE
. Jerk was more like it.

He grabbed the back of my hoodie and pushed me toward the side door, which opened automatically. I didn’t know what to expect—I’d never been in a police station before—but I didn’t actually expect bars. But that’s where I ended up. Me and one guy who looked homeless and another who was totally drunk off his ass. The cop removed my cuffs and I was about to sigh in relief when he simply relocked them in front of me.

“Sit,” Officer Burke said, pointing a meaty finger. What choice did I have? I sat and laid my head down on my fists, my elbows balanced on my knees. The longer I squeezed my eyes shut and drew my face back into my hood, the more I managed to convince myself I wasn’t there at all. I imagined anywhere else in the world I’d rather be.

Sera’s room, for one.

But mostly I imagined Phoenix. Everything in my life had blown to bits since I moved to Santa Monica. I’d avoided too much homesickness the last few months, but sitting in that holding cell, I let it wash over me.

Just as I started to feel tears burn behind my eyelids—for the first time in years—the jail phone rang. My head jerked up, and some irrational part of me hoped I would find myself in my own bedroom with my cordless ringing on my bedside table. But I was still in the drab cell with my reeking cellmates. Officer Burke answered the phone. I tucked my head back into my hood and squeezed my eyes shut again.

“Clayson!”

I straightened so fast I knocked my head against the bars of the cell.
Ow
. “Yessir,” I answered reflexively.

He glared at me. “Come on.”

Hope leaped inside me. “Are my parents here?”

The cop snorted. “Hardly.” Nothing else.

I clenched my jaw and the cop unlocked the door and held it open just enough to let me slip by. Then the firm hand returned to the back of my sweatshirt. We went through another door and it was like a different world. Desks, cubicles, offices.

My handcuffs felt heavy—like iron chains. We walked into a small room, empty except for a table and a couple of chairs. And one big mirror that was no doubt one of those two-ways you see on TV. Pointing to a metal folding chair, Burke said, “Someone’ll be here soon.”

And before I could actually get to the chair to sit down, he left and closed the door behind me.

Reflexively, I turned toward the sound. As I did, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t help but stare. A black hoodie pulled forward to shadow my face, baggy jeans and old Converse, cuffs binding my skinny wrists in front of me. My eyes were wide and scared, my expression tight; I looked more like a terrified twelve-year-old than the famed Red Rose Returner of Whitestone.

I turned away; I couldn’t look at myself. It made me doubt that I was doing the right thing. And that was the one hope I couldn’t let go of.

I sat in the chair and pulled my knees up to my chest, not caring who might be looking. I laid my head down and started counting slowly—a trick I’d learned when I was a kid and something scared me. Most things would be gone by the time I reached one hundred.

I doubted I’d be that lucky this time.

I was up to five hundred fifty-seven when the door handle clicked and a cop walked in.

“Hey, Jeff,” Officer Herrera said.

“Officer Herrera,” I said breathlessly. I don’t know how you can feel like someone punched you in the stomach in a
good
way, but that’s how I felt.

“Sorry I missed your call,” he said.

I rubbed at my eyes. “When you didn’t answer, I thought it was the end of the world; I almost didn’t bother to leave a voice mail.”

Officer Herrera chuckled. “Sorry for not calling back. I didn’t know just how many strings I could pull for you and I had a lot of research to do before I could tug on
any
of them.” He looked up at me. “I’ve been watching you, Jeff. I heard about the big drop-off at the homeless center. Someone mentioned weird stickers and I knew it had to be you. That was really generous. You could have sold that stuff for thousands of dollars. More, maybe. There was one bag of jewelry that was all genuine article. And when the school break-in was reported it didn’t take long to link you to that, too.” He shuffled through the files on the table and put the largest one on top. He looked up at me, his eyes suddenly serious. “Does the name Kimberlee Schaffer mean anything to you?”