Top Ten Clues You’re Clueless (11 page)

Chapter 15

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED DURING THIS SHIFT

1. Sammi is not as evil as advertised.

2. Zaina is Lebanese.

3. I cannot be trusted to gather carts from the parking lot.

4. There is a lot more glass in a grocery store than I ever realized.

5. I never want to become a janitor, high-rise window washer, or a manager at GoodFoods
Market.

6. My mother actually does have untapped reservoirs of guilt saved up for special
occasions like today.

7. It is possible to look forward to being questioned by the police.

“Do you think the cops are really on their way?” Zaina pauses with the door to the
eggs propped open in her left hand. Cold air pours out in rolling waves around her
knees and feet, and every circle she cleared in the condensation with her paper towels
is already fogging over.

“What do you mean?” I ask. I’m two doors down in front of the skim milk, polishing
away at the outside of the glass.

“We’ve been waiting an awfully long time,” she says. “I wonder if they’re actually
coming.”

“Do you think he’d lie about calling?” Tyson wonders from the sour-cream-and-cottage-cheese
cooler.

“I don’t know what to think,” Zaina says. She’s been much more talkative since the
race. “I just can’t believe how long we’ve been waiting.”

It’s true. We’ve already worked our way from Bakery and Deli, through Seafood and
Meat to the Dairy section. The only glass left is Frozen Foods. Admittedly, that’s
still a pretty major job, but it does make you wonder what’s taking so long.

My stomach growls.

“You think Solomon’s trying to trick us?” Sammi asks.

“I don’t think he would lie.” Micah’s voice is muffled from inside the whole-milk
section.

“Who knows.” Tyson sighs.

“Can they even talk to us without our parents here?” I ask. “If they are on their
way, I mean.”

“They can talk to me,” Gabe reminds us. “I’m eighteen.”

“Gee, really, Gabe? That’s the first I’m hearing of this,” Sammi says with an eye
roll.

Micah emerges from behind his door. “I think they can interview us as witnesses, even
if our parents don’t give permission.”

I make a mental note to look up the rules on this kind of stuff. Seems like the sort
of knowledge that might come in handy. Not that I’m planning to have a lot of face
time with the police, but still.

Bending to polish the lowest corners of the glass doors makes my head swim, but not
as badly as straightening up again. I press a palm to the door to steady myself, leaving
a print on the glass I’ve just cleaned.

Great.

Out of nowhere, Sammi turns and does a jump shot to sink her used-up paper towels
into the open garbage at the end of the janitor’s cart we’re still trailing. “I think
I’m going to go,” she says.

“Go where?” Gabe asks.

“Just . . . go.” She swipes her hand into an unseen distance.

“You can’t,” Micah says.

“What are they going to do?” she asks. “
Kris
is going to chase me down and put me under citizen’s arrest? Yeah, right.”

“Sammi, you can’t just leave,” Tyson says.

She raises both eyebrows at him and takes two steps backward, then turns and heads
for the front of the store. “See ya!” she calls over her shoulder.

The rest of us turn into statues, unsure what to do. I can’t even make myself look
at anyone else—my eyes are glued to her short form as she saunters down one of the
ethnic-food aisles. Then she’s past the prepackaged curries and out of sight. Her
shoes are too quiet to make any sound on the floor. Still, I watch, expecting her
to come right back, escorted by one of the bosses.

“Do you really think she’s going to leave?” Micah asks.

“Sammi likes to talk tough, but I don’t think she’d actually do anything,” Gabe says,
though he sounds uncertain.

No one moves for a long, quiet moment. Finally, I speak up. “I’ll go check on her.”
Mostly I need to satisfy the small ball of panic that’s starting to gain speed in
my chest. I hate the idea that she might be defying Kris and Mr. Solomon. I’ve always
been the kind of kid who could be counted on to watch the class if the teacher had
to step out.

“You don’t even know where she went,” Tyson says.

The panic ball doesn’t care about reason. The panic ball needs to be soothed. “I’ll
check the Break Room.”

Unexpectedly, Zaina steps forward. “I’ll come with you.”

“Um . . . okay.” I head for the aisle we last saw her. When I’ve got a clear view
of it, it’s obvious she’s not just hiding out of sight to scare us.

Zaina walks beside me, but she doesn’t say anything until we get to the front of the
store. “Do you think she really left?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” She would have had to be moving pretty fast to get her coat and already
be out of the door without us seeing a trace of her. I bite my lip. I thought we’d
have spotted her by now.

“Break Room,” Zaina reminds me.

I follow her, but before we reach it, the door opens and Kris comes out.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” The lie springs to my lips without thought.

“Me too.” Zaina’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Then why are you coming in here?” he asks.

My nerves crackle, but I tell him another lie. “Girl stuff.”

He looks away. Girl stuff is kryptonite to the male of the species. “All right, but
make it quick,” he says.

We go into the Break Room for a moment, because we don’t have a choice.

Inside, Zaina whispers, “How long do we have to stand here?”

I shrug and my stomach growls again. For the first time, it occurs to me that someone
must have thrown away the rest of my lunch when I went into the office to talk with
Mr. Solomon. It had been gone when I came out. So was my book, for that matter.

My money’s on Agnes, the cleaning machine. But what would she have done with my book?
I scan the room, noticing the cookie trays and the nasty eggnog carton are gone, too.
There’s nothing to eat in here; I don’t know why I’m rechecking.

“Okay, let’s go.” Zaina interrupts my thoughts.

Kris is sitting cross-legged on one of the bagging conveyors when we come out. Just
sitting on it, like he’s waiting to be bagged and taken home for someone’s dinner.
He straightens up when he sees us, seeming to come out of a trance, but he doesn’t
say anything.

Now, of course, we’re stuck going to the bathroom. He’s watching our every move. So
much for my great cover story.

We walk quickly to the ladies’ room, though I scan as much of the store as I can see
for any trace of Sammi. Nothing. When Zaina opens the door, the motion-sensor lights
are already on, still blue in their warm-up phase, making the bathroom look like it’s
underwater. The room is shockingly cold. I knew they turned the heat down in the store
after closing, but it feels like I’ve taken a wrong turn into one of the freezer cases.
I shiver involuntarily.

“Who’s there?” Sammi’s voice echoes from one of the stalls.

“It’s me. Chloe. And Zaina’s with me.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Thought you were leaving,” I challenge.

“No,” she drawls. “I said I had to
go
. To the bathroom.”

“Well, we had to pee, too,” I say, though I don’t.

“Excuse me.” Zaina ducks her head as she walks past me, heading for a stall.

A toilet flushes and Sammi emerges, her regulation uniform shirt now draped over one
arm, exposing the T-shirt she was wearing beneath. It’s got an old-fashioned telephone
booth on it, only it’s blue and says
POLICE
across the top. I never would have guessed she was a Whovian. She nods to me as she
approaches the sink, but doesn’t say anything.

“Everyone thought you left,” I say, even though I want to talk about her T-shirt.
I congratulate myself on my focus.

“Good.”

“Why do you do stuff like that?” I ask.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like, saying stuff just to get people freaked out.”

She shrugs, and slings her uniform shirt around her neck like a scarf. “Why be boring?”

“Can’t you be interesting without being mean?”

“It’s not mean. Don’t be such a Boy Scout.”

Ouch. Okay, so I obviously wasn’t a Boy Scout, but I definitely stayed in Girl Scouts
longer than most of the girls in my class. Earned some serious badges. I didn’t have
the guts to tell my mom I didn’t want to do it anymore. Not like that’s news. I’ve
never even had the guts to tell her I hate it that she comes into the doctor’s office
with me.

Today is the first time in a long time that I can actually remember breaking rules
on purpose. Not to mention covering up the accident in the parking lot. I lied to
my own mother about why I’m still stuck at work. I’m even standing up to Sammi.

Well, a little anyway.

“I’m not a Boy Scout,” I say softly.

Sammi laughs her
heh!
laugh. “Right.” She finishes washing her hands and leans across the counter to inspect
her bangs.

“Is that your natural color?” I ask.

“Nope. Is that yours?”

“Yeah.” I look at my own reflection, not surprised to see that my ponytail has slumped
a bit to one side and I’ve got a corona of escaped curls all around my face. Not the
pretty, romantic kind, just the frizzy half and three-quarter circles that come from
having curly hair get wet and then dry.

“It’s a pretty badass color,” Sammi says unexpectedly.

I meet her eyes in the mirror again, startled. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She sounds surprised at my skeptical tone. “Red is definitely cool. You should
get some bright red or blue highlights or something. Then you’d be a total badass.”

“My mom won’t let me,” I say automatically. I know it for a fact. I’ve always wanted
to color my hair. Make it anything but this, but she says it would be a shame to cover
up natural red.

“She’d get over it,” Sammi says. “It’s not that big a deal. I mean, hell, GoodFoods
carries a couple brands of the punk colors. How hard-core can it be?”

“Really?” I’ve never noticed them before. Then again, I don’t spend a lot of time
looking at the hair-dye section of the store. There’s never been a point. “Is it hard
to do?”

I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.

“Nah. It’s kind of messy, but it’s easy.”

We hear a soft cough from the stalls, and I realize Zaina’s still in there.

“Zaina? Are you okay?”

“Can you please wait outside or something?” she calls. “I can’t go with you listening.”

“Stage fright?” Sammi hollers. “Can’t pee when we’re talking to you?”

“Please,” Zaina begs.

“Aww, don’t be so shy.” Sammi laughs.

I giggle, but wave a hand at Sammi. “Don’t tease her.”

“Just relax and think of Niagara Falls, Z!” she shouts.

“Sammi!” I whisper, but I’m laughing, too.

“Could you please leave me alone?” Zaina’s voice is desperate.

“Oh, fine.” Sammi throws her head back and starts to sing, “The sun’ll come out tomorrow!”

I join her, tentatively at first, but my voice gets stronger when I realize Sammi
has no intention of quitting before the big finish. Soon we’re both belting, “To-morrow!
To-morrow! I love ya! To-morrow!” at the top of our lungs.

Someone pounds on the door, hard enough to make it waft open an inch. “What’s going
on in there?” It’s Solomon’s voice.

I put my foot on the door, shoving it closed. “Nothing! Girl stuff!” My heart pounds.
I can’t believe I said that to the big boss.

Sammi laughs and adds, “Tampons!” in a piping voice.

“Well, hurry it up. This is not playtime.”

This is not playtime,
Sammi mouths with a stern finger pointed at me.

I cover my mouth to smother laughter.

“Do you hear me?” Solomon shouts.

I uncover long enough to shout, “Loud and clear!” before slapping my hand back over
my mouth.

The stall door opens and Zaina peeks out, looking pale. “He didn’t come in, did he?”

“No.” Sammi shakes her head. “Chloe ninja-kicked the door shut.” She strikes a pose,
hands raised in karate readiness.

Zaina ducks her head and goes to the sink to wash her hands. She hisses when she touches
the water. “So cold!”

“Seriously.”

I tuck my fingers under my arms. “I’m not even sure I
could
pee at this temperature.”

“You may change your mind if they keep us here much longer.”

“Speaking of that—” Sammi waves me aside and flings the door open, but no one is outside
anymore. “You can’t hold us here against our wills, you know!” she shouts into the
void. “This is kidnapping!”

Zaina gasps and flattens herself against the wall beside the hand dryer. I stand on
my toes behind Sammi, looking over her shoulder for Solomon and Kris. “Who are you
talking to?” I ask.

“Trust me, they hear.” She raises her voice back to shouting level. “Kidnapping!”

“We’re already in trouble, Sammi.” I might be a little more badass than usual today,
but there are limits. “Maybe you shouldn’t antagonize Mr. Solomon right now.”

“Whatever. They’ve obviously decided we’re a bunch of criminals.” Sammi slips her
arms through Zaina’s and mine and leads the way to the Frozen Foods section. “Come
on. The boys should have finished up in Dairy by now, don’t you think?”

She’s right. They’ve rounded the corner at the far end of Frozen Foods, causing the
motion sensors in the cases to illuminate them like beacons while the rest of the
aisle is dark. That changes as we walk toward them, the bulbs reacting to our approach
by flicking to life. It’s like we’re creating our own runway lights.

Gabe, who is working on the lower half of the door in front of Juice, looks up, then
stands suddenly when he sees Sammi. “I thought you left.”