The Thief (3 page)

She folded her arms. “Is it later yet?”

“
Nope,” he responded, good
mood unfaltering. “Come on, let’s see how far the construction crew
got on the inside.”

“
You’re in a good mood,” she
commented, sullenly.

“
I love this city,” he said,
crossing the lot to the building’s front door.

The ‘city,’ in Camille’s opinion, could
barely be called such.

Gabriel had claimed Havenwood was fairly
large but after their plane had landed they’d driven away from the
comforting loom of overpasses and onto a winding two-lane road. The
roads coming off the highway curved and snaked through patches of
crops, freshly built subdivisions, and patches of crops being
turned into subdivisions. There were trees everywhere. Though she
saw some small mountains on the horizon, the stretch of highway the
church/bakery was situated on was very flat, much more than Camille
was accustomed to. She had never been around so many trees in such
a concentrated area. And so tall and well-established, and creeping
in all around...overhanging the road...she felt a little
claustrophobic. The trees in Japan, back home in Tokyo, had been
beautiful and spindly and strategically placed in gardens and
parks, due to how precious a commodity space was. Trees were
centerpieces – works of art. Here, it felt like the trees were the
rightful owners of the land – an army that swarmed back in as soon
as you cut it back.

Though the leaves were already starting to
fall, yellows and reds still splotched the canopy like a canvas.
Camille likened them to bruises. The colors reminded her of the
trees’ losing battle against the coming winter – sad, but also
brave, and therefore beautiful. Though with heat like this in
November, she had a hard time imagining much of a true winter.

Camille missed the civilized feeling of
buildings on all sides, the order and careful design of
architecture. The comforting bustle of a tight-packed metropolis,
that she felt an utter lack of now. Just one more factor to add to
the list of things that made her feel alien.

The odd part was, for the first time in her
life she didn’t look alien. Her parents had been Scottish; she had
curly golden hair and green eyes - not exactly common in Japan,
where she’d been born. She’d been an object of curiosity there,
even though culturally she was about as Japanese as they came.
Gabriel, on the other hand...

No one who met them ever asked if Gabriel
was her father. It was too obvious that he wasn’t. He was barely
thirty, for one thing, and looked even younger. Despite his
unaccented English, he was clearly Japanese, if a little tall, with
inquisitive slanting eyes and straight black hair that was just an
inch too short for a ponytail. Though he looked the part, Gabriel
made no secret of his dislike of Japan during the six years he’d
been her guardian. He balked at the distance from the mainland, he
was annoyed by the language (his Japanese was as problematic as her
English), and he hated the food. “Everything in Japan tastes like a
tidepool,” he often said. She never had gotten him to tell her
where he had come from, but between his attitude and his language
she was almost certain he was American. He certainly talked about
this city enough.

Gabriel opened the front doors to the
building and Camille followed him inside. They propped the doors
open to offer some small amount of ventilation - the central air
conditioning hadn’t been repaired yet. Ongoing construction was
everywhere. The front of the building still looked mostly like a
small church sanctuary with pillars and stained glass, but the pews
and things had been removed. Sawhorses and stacks of drywall were
in their place for now, but eventually there would be tables and
chairs, and rugs to cover the stone floor. It felt open and airy,
having an extra story of ceiling for the light from the colored
glass to play around in. The back of the building, on the first
floor, would house the counter and actual bakery. On the second
floor were their rooms. They had originally been built to
accommodate the pastor, so they didn’t need much updating. Other
than a total rehaul of the plumbing. And patched roofing. And the
carpets torn up. Apparently there had actually been wood floors
underneath two layers of hideous green carpet - but those had to be
refinished. And there had been piles of old junk in the closets
that had to be cleaned out. Yeah. Not much updating.

But downstairs in the sanctuary - uh, dining
room - the construction of the counter seemed to be coming along
pretty well. She guessed.

Gabriel was enthusiastic.

“
Over here is the coffee and
tea bar,” he was pointing out. “It’ll look better when the
countertops come in. The display counter goes in here. That’ll have
to wait until we’re ready to install the glass. It’ll be chock full
of things you won’t eat.”

Camille made a face. “Everything you want to
make is either covered in chocolate, covered in caramel, or made of
pure sugar to begin with.”

“
It’s a bakery,
kiddo.”

“
You can bake things without
sugar, you know.”

“
Like what?”

“
Like curry pies?” It was a
curry-based meat filling in a flaky crust. “Or
chuka-man?”

“
Chinese pork buns? This is
the deep south, Camille. No one will eat that here.”

“
How do you know that?” she
challenged. “And ‘
deep
south
’?” she said the words in bizarrely
accented English before switching back to Japanese. “What is
that?”

“
That’s where we are. It’s a
region that covers several states in the southeastern United
States. It means two things. Well, it means a lot of things, but
here are the two I care about: one, this is where the best food in
the world is made. This is the home of good, honest folk who
understand that butter is good, bacon is better, and there is no
point to tea if it’s not ninety-percent sugar. Two, nobody here
knows what a curry pie is, and even if you convinced them to try it
they’d only smile politely - because of good southern manners -
tell you it’s good, and then never order it again.”

“
I don’t know about that,”
said a jovial woman’s voice from the front of the church. “Seems a
little presumptuous to say we’re all so narrow-minded as
that.”

Gabriel turned, and a smile lit his face.
“Charlotte!”

‘
Charlotte’ was a thirty-ish
woman of middle height, middle attractiveness, and obscenely long
red hair, tied back in a frizzy braid that swung past her waist.
Her enthusiasm matched Gabriel’s.

She greeted him with a friendly hug. “I was
wondering when you’d find your way back here!” she exclaimed. “I
couldn’t believe anyone would take over the old Episcopal church,
but now I’m not so surprised.”

“
I’m going to assume that’s
a compliment,” he said.

“
Mr. Katsura,” said another
woman, crossing the threshold, “I would welcome you to Havenwood,
but I am told that this is not your first residence here.” She
didn’t sound very welcoming, in truth; she stepped through the
construction gingerly, as if waiting for the building to collapse.
She was a stark contrast to Charlotte - short, Japanese, and
overdressed in a skirtsuit. Her straight, black hair was cut in a
harsh line across her cheek, and her expression was
pinched.

Gabriel smiled at her anyway and shook hands
with her. “I have too many fond memories here,” he said. “Besides,
Havenwood School has been after Camille for some time, hasn’t it?
Which Umino sister are you?”

“
You presume much,” she
commented. Her accent was so slight she almost sounded like a
native English speaker, but Camille could tell the difference. “I’m
the principal of the school, something you should be mindful
of.”

“
Rin, then,” he said
lightly. “Glad to finally meet you. You can imagine I’ve heard all
kinds of things about your family. Didn’t your sister just win a
Nobel prize for her work in genetics?”

“
A widely known fact,” Rin
Umino said sourly. “You are not unstoried yourself. This is neither
the time nor place for histories, Mr. Katsura.”

“
Please, call me Gabriel,”
he said.

“
Hmph.” She glanced at
Camille. “I take it this is the girl?”

Camille bristled.
“
The girl?
” she
said in English.

“
I hope her scholastics are
up to the high standard our school expects,” Rin said, seeming not
to hear her. “Have I been told correctly that she has never been to
a real school?”

Still Gabriel smiled. “From the numerous
letters I’ve received in the last two years, I was under the
impression that Havenwood would accept Camille at any time, under
any circumstances.”

“
With stronger leadership
comes more stringent guidelines,” Rin said. “Tarrant Smith was a
good principal, in his own way, but Havenwood has outgrown
him.”

Gabriel’s gaze crossed over Rin to
Charlotte, who was looking resolutely at the wall. “I see. Well,
yes, it’s true Camille has never been in a classroom setting, but
I’m sure her education will hold up even to Umino standards.”

Rin frowned at him, as if disappointed by
his unshaken calm. “For expediency’s sake she may begin attending
school on Monday - on a probationary status.”

Camille had been having
trouble with some of the larger English words they’d been using by
now, and
probationary
had her completely stumped.

“
She hasn’t even set foot
through the doors and she’s already on probation?” Gabriel laughed.
“She hasn’t done anything.”

“
Exactly,” Rin said coldly.
“Our students must all prove themselves in some way. Average
children belong elsewhere.”

Gabriel looked thoughtful, glancing at
Charlotte again. “It’s your school,” he shrugged.

“
I’m glad we are of
compatible views,” said Rin. “I was made to expect
otherwise.”

Gabriel put a hand on Camille’s shoulder.
“The important thing here is Camille’s education.”

That’s when she heard something outside - a
metallic rattle, followed by a low hiss. Her eyes narrowed. The
others wouldn’t be able to hear it, but she knew exactly what that
was. She walked wordlessly out the front doors. Rin murmured, “How
rude,” but Camille had no interest in that woman. She’d been the
one coming into their space, bringing challenges. Like this
idiot.

She turned the corner around the building’s
exterior and came face to face with a tall boy, not much older than
herself, holding a can of spray paint. He took in her frown and
returned a toothy grin.

“
Oh, was someone here? My
bad,” he said, all insincerity. He must have seen the cars in the
parking lot. He probably even heard the voices inside. Camille
could hear them talking even now - Gabriel was trying to smooth
things over with Rin.

Camille looked at the shape he’d been
drawing on the grey brick wall - some kind of face with sharp
teeth. She looked back at him. Dark spiked hair, piercings all over
his face. A scar that ran from his nose across one cheek. She knew
this type. Guys just like him were all over Tokyo.

She pointed away, toward the street and the
other buildings beyond. He must have come from there. “Get out,”
she stated in English.

He snorted, unimpressed. “I’m not finished,”
he sneered. He shook the can again.

Camille lashed out, sending the can flying.
“I said, get out,” she snapped, louder.

His eyes sparked at the challenge. “What are
you going to do about it, Goldilocks?” He stepped closer, using his
height to intimidate. “You foreign kids come into our town, acting
all big and bad, but in the end you run away crying for mommy and -
”

Camille shoved him and he stumbled back, but
he was grinning.

“
Camille!” Gabriel said.
“That’s enough.”

Her pulse was racing. She could feel her
veins in her left arm restricted by the iron bracer. No one talked
about her parents like that and got away with it.

She looked back. The adults had come around
the front of the building. Gabriel took in the scene quickly. Rin
regarded Camille with disapproval. Charlotte was aghast.

“
Warren Hyde!” Charlotte
exclaimed. “How could you?”

He shrugged. “The place has been abandoned
for years. I thought it still was.”

Liar! “There are cars out front and
construction everywhere,” Camille told Gabriel heatedly in
Japanese. He merely put his hand on her shoulder, his universal
signal for her to calm down.

“
Even if that were true,”
Charlotte told the boy, “we still don’t go around putting graffiti
on things!”

“
We do not,” Rin agreed.
“Nor do we fight other students in public.” Her eyes shifted to
Camille. “You have not even crossed our threshold, Ms. Teague, and
you are already engaging in violence. Yes, I would say probationary
status is well warranted. Come, Mr. Hyde, I am removing you from
the premises. Mr. Katsura, I expect we will continue this
conversation later.”

“
I expect so,” Gabriel said
evenly.

With a parting smirk to Camille, the boy
followed Rin to her car.

Charlotte sighed after they’d left. “I’m so
sorry. He’s impossible sometimes.”

“
When did Rin Umino take
over?” Gabriel asked her, his gaze following her car pulling out of
the lot.

“
Over the summer,” she said.
“I know she seems harsh, but so far this has been the smoothest
school year we’ve ever had.”