Top Ten Clues You’re Clueless (15 page)

“Again, that’s more of a skill,” Tyson says.

Sammi juts her chin at Tyson. “All right, then, Mr. Expert. What can you do?”

He hesitates.

“What is it?” I’m delighted at the idea he has a hidden talent.

“Out with it!” Sammi commands.

Without speaking, Tyson gets to his feet. He tilts his head from side to side, making
his neck crack, and takes a few steps in place. Then he shakes out his arms.

“Do it already!” Gabe shouts.

Tyson grabs his right wrist in his left hand and swings his arm up and over his head.
When he brings it down behind his head, his shoulder bulges unnaturally, then suddenly
it’s flat again and his arm is all the way behind his back.

Everyone gasps and cringes as he does a rolling motion with his torso and the arm
pops back up to a normal position. He brings it around to the front and lets go of
his wrist, spreading his arms wide in presentation.

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Gabe declares, looking decidedly green in the face.

“Totally sick!” Sammi obviously isn’t grossed out at all.

“Does that hurt?” I ask.

“It’s like a really intense stretch,” he says. “I can’t do it over and over again,
but it’s not bad if I just do it once or twice.”

“Oh my God.”

“That was disgusting,” Gabe says. The green pallor is fading, but he still looks shell-shocked.

“Come on. Who else has something?” Tyson asks.

“I do,” I say. “It’s not as good as that, but it’s kind of cool.”

“What?”

“Okay, you have to pay close attention.” I take off my glasses, instantly turning
everyone into flesh-colored blobs. “Watch my eyes.” I blink a few times to get them
good and lubricated, then with intense concentration, I make my left eye go to the
corner while the right stays staring straight ahead.

One of the colored blobs jumps back. “What the hell was that?” It’s Sammi. “Do it
again.”

“Okay. Hang on.” I close my eyes and straighten up in my seat. Repeating this trick
is always harder after the first time. I don’t know why. If I do it a bunch of times,
I end up with a massive headache, but it’s worth a time or two for the gross-out factor.

Opening my eyes, I repeat it and Sammi jumps again.

“That is just unnatural,” she pronounces.

“Creepy,” Zaina agrees.

I put my glasses back on. “All right, then, what can you do?” I ask Zaina.

“Besides speak three languages?” she teases.

“Yeah, besides that,” Micah says without a trace of sarcasm.

“I can do this.” She stands, her back very straight, and slowly raises one foot to
touch her opposite knee, like a ballet dancer. Then it comes up higher, until she
can grab it with her hand, and continues to rise until she’s holding her foot above
her head. Her knee and elbow are fully extended, and while she bobbles a bit to keep
her balance on her other leg, the feat is very impressive. We all applaud.

“All right, that just leaves you, Gabriel,” Sammi says.

Gabe sighs. “There’s one thing I can do.”

“I demand a demonstration.” She thumps the table.

“De-mon-stra-tion,” Tyson chants, pumping his fist.

I pick up the chant, then Micah and Zaina do, too.

“Yes!” Sammi cheers. “Show us. Show us or we’ll all doubt your manhood for the rest
of your life.”

He gives her an “oh please” look.

She quirks her eyebrows at him and pokes him in the ribs. “Show us!”

“Fine.” He brings his hands up to his face and flips his upper eyelids so we can see
the insides.

“Ew!” I say without a thought.

Sammi cheers loudly, sticking both arms up in victory.

Gabe scrubs his face, righting his lids and looking embarrassed. “I told you I couldn’t
do anything cool.”

The door to the store opens and Kris pokes his head in. “What are you guys doing in
here?”

“Nothing.” Sammi lets her arms drop.

“We’re just talking,” I say.

“Solomon called the police again. They said they’ll be here in ten minutes.” His mouth
opens again like he wants to say something more, but he just nods and lets the door
drop shut.

“Finally!” Zaina says.

“I can’t believe I ate all that crap when I’ve got my grandma’s cooking waiting for
me at home.” Tyson sighs.

“Just eat more,” Gabe says with a shrug.

Tyson makes a tsking sound. “I’m gonna have to. My grandma doesn’t let people come
to dinner without eating.”

I let their words drift over me, but this time it’s not about my blood sugar. This
time, I’m thinking about the missing money. Ten minutes to figure this out.

I pull out my notebook again and jot down some thoughts.

- Potentially $10,000

- Mostly small bills

- Could have filled a grocery bag

- No damage to the lock—picked?

- Who has a key?

- Was the money taken all at once or every day?

- Someone accused us of stealing it, either one or all of us working together

- Everyone claims innocence

- Why did Solomon let all the other employees go? Why isn’t everyone being fingerprinted?

I look up at the others. “Who do you think said we did it?”

“Who knows?” Gabe sighs.

“When in doubt, blame Agnes,” Sammi says.

“But why would he believe Agnes?” I wonder.

“Because she’s worked here since dinosaurs roamed the Earth?” Gabe suggests. “Because
she’s actually the soul of the store itself that only manifests in human form during
regular business hours?”

Sammi laughs, a staccato burst of her
heh
s all stuck together.

Agnes doesn’t seem like the culprit to me—not the thief or the one who accused us.
I tap my pen on the end of the notebook and rack my brain for any details I might
have missed.

“Has anyone noticed someone with something new lately? Something expensive?”

Everyone shakes their heads.

“The only person around here who has anything even remotely cool is Kris,” Gabe says.
“His car kicks ass.”

Although I don’t share his love of Kris’s old red sports car, I can at least agree
with his assessment of the rest of the employees. The people who work here aren’t
exactly rolling in spending money. A lot of them are actually retired people who either
can’t or don’t want to stop working. They’re not the type to come in with fancy watches
or expensive cars.

Maybe I’m being judgmental. Maybe they’ve got giant flat-screen TVs, or designer wardrobes
when they’re not in their GoodFoods uniforms. Heck, they could have robot butlers
for all I know.

“Did you know Kris is the owner’s son?” Zaina volunteers.

“What?” I had no idea. I’m not the only one, judging from the look on the others’
faces.

“How do you know?” Tyson asks.

“He told me.” She looks down at her lap. “That’s why he’s a manager even though he’s
so young.”

“How old is he?” Gabe asks.

“Twenty-one,” she says.

“I had no idea,” Sammi says.

“Neither did I,” Micah says.

“Is it supposed to be a secret or something? Why did he tell you?” Tyson asks.

Zaina shakes her head, and for a moment, I think she’s going to pull back inside herself
and we’ll never know. But then she sighs softly and straightens up to face us. “Because
he wanted to impress me.”

“What do you mean?” Micah asks.

“He’s . . . interested in me.”

My first thought is
Duh,
because she’s the most beautiful human on the planet.

“Why do you say that?” Tyson asks.

“He told me.” Her nose wrinkles.

“What did he say?” Sammi asks.

Zaina swallows hard. “He says a lot of things. Once he told me he can’t wait for my
eighteenth birthday so it’s legal for him to want me.”

My lips curl into a sneer. “Eww. Seriously?”

“Kris?”
Sammi says. “Our Kris?”

Zaina nods. “He’s always standing too close to me, or touching me.” At this, her eyes
glaze with tears.

“He probably thinks he’s being funny,” Gabe says.

“Why don’t you tell him to back the hell off?” Sammi asks.

“I can’t.” Two fat tears slide down her cheeks.

“Why not?” Sammi demands. “I’d shove my elbow into his gut.” She mimics the action.

Zaina’s eyes close and her beautiful face creases. She sniffles quietly and wipes
at her eyes. Finally, she whispers, “Because he caught me stealing.”

Chapter 19

REVELATIONS THAT HAVE SHOCKED ME LESS THAN ZAINA ADMITTING TO STEALING

1. There is no Santa.

2. There is no evidence that Humpty Dumpty was an egg.

3. The Easter Island heads have bodies underground.

4. There are more bacteria cells in your body than actual body cells.

5. My dad was married once before meeting my mom.

The front legs of Gabe’s chair thunk back to the ground as he leans forward. “
You
stole the money?”

“No!” Zaina’s voice is choked with tears. “I told you I didn’t have anything to do
with that.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“This is so embarrassing.” Zaina sighs. “My sister, Layla, is . . . not a traditional
Lebanese girl.” Her accent gets much thicker and she makes a face that tells me she’s
imitating someone when she says “traditional Lebanese girl.” “She wants to be completely
American. My dad doesn’t like it, but as my mother says, he’s the one who brought
us here.”

Beside her Tyson reaches out to pat her shoulder, then pulls his hand back quickly.
I have the same instinct to comfort her in some way, but with Tyson between us, it
would be awkward to reach out. I have to settle for clenching my hands in my lap.

“My dad wants us to marry boys from other Lebanese families, but Layla likes to date
American boys. And she—” Zaina stops and looks up at the boys for a moment, her chin
tipping down at the same time. “She asked me to get her a pregnancy test while I was
at work.”

Micah gasps, and I find myself suppressing a laugh. It’s his reaction, not Zaina’s
confession, that gets me. But I don’t want her to think I’m laughing at her, so I
snatch the bag of turkey off the table and shovel another pinch into my mouth even
though I’m not hungry.

“It took me all day just to work up the courage to go into that section of the store.”
Her voice is so thick with tears, it’s hard to hear her. “I put it in my apron pocket
and went back to work. I thought I could just wait until the end of my shift and then
I’d scan it and pay for it. But I couldn’t make myself do it. It was too embarrassing.”
She brings one slim hand up to her mouth. It’s shaking. “So I took it. I put it in
my coat pocket and I tried to walk out of the store with it at the end of my shift.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Kris saw me do it.” Fresh tears run along the tracks already on her cheeks.

“Did you get in trouble?” Micah asks.

She shakes her head. “No. He asked me to empty my pockets, so I did, but when he saw
what I had, he just . . . smiled at me. He told me he’d let it go, and I was so humiliated
I took it and left.

“Ever since then, he looks at me differently.” She wraps her arms around herself,
eyes closed. “I know what he must think of me. The things he says . . .”

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Zaina whispers.

“Z,” Tyson says softly. “It’s okay.” He covers her hand, still clenched on her shoulder,
with his own. It’s only for a moment, but my chest feels tight, watching him.

“Hey.” Sammi pulls our attention to her side of the table. She has her arms crossed
and one ankle hooked on the opposite knee. The picture of disinterest, but her blue
eyes are focused directly on Zaina.

Zaina looks over slowly, cautiously.

“Screw that,” Sammi says.

“What?”

“Screw feeling bad about it. You did what you had to do. It’s not your fault Kris
is a big perv.” She rolls her eyes. “Men are pigs.”

“Hey!” Gabe protests, but it’s weak.

“I should have paid for it,” Zaina says. “I had the money, but it was too humiliating.”

“Forget about it, okay?” Sammi says. “Put five bucks in your drawer next time you
work. Then you don’t owe that bastard a thing. You can kick him in the nuts with a
clear conscience.”

“Oh, it was more than five,” Zaina says in all seriousness. “I took one of the digital
ones. Did you know they cost twenty dollars?”

Sammi tosses back her head, laughing. A real, full-on belly laugh, complete with shaking
shoulders. It’s infectious, and soon we’re all cracking up.

Everyone except Zaina. She’s smiling, though. It’s impossible not to. “I don’t see
what’s so funny,” she says.

“Oh, man.” Sammi wipes her eyes. “I don’t know why, but it makes me so happy that
you went for the expensive kind.”

Zaina blushes. “I wanted to make sure it worked.”

That makes Sammi laugh even harder. “So, was she?”

Zaina looks confused.

“Your sister. Was she pregnant?”

“No.” Relief floods her face. “I don’t know what she would have done. What my father
would have done.”

“Why haven’t you said anything before?” I ask. “About Kris, I mean.”

“You all seem to like him so much.” She lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “I didn’t
know what to say.”

To be honest, I’m not sure how I would have reacted before today. It’s still hard
to imagine Kris being all sleazy like that, but if I really think about it, I have
seen him standing very close to her. Practically breathing down her shirt. I always
assumed she liked the attention.

I feel awful. There’s not much I can say to make it better, but I might as well give
her a show of solidarity. I blurt out my own confession. “I crashed a bunch of carts
into a car today.”

“You did what?” Tyson demands.

I expect Sammi to hush me, but she just says, “You definitely did.”

I tell them the story. How I’d wanted to help, and ended up putting us all at risk.
And how I’d been all cagey in Solomon’s office because I felt so guilty about it.

“No wonder he’s so suspicious of us,” Gabe says.

“I’m sure that’s not the only reason,” Tyson says. I expect him to give me a soothing
pat on the hand like he did for Zaina, but none comes.

“So that makes three criminals among us,” Sammi declares. “A thief”—she points to
Zaina—“a vandal”—she points to me—“and a terrible cashier.” Her finger moves to Micah,
which makes everyone laugh.

“Might as well add me to the list,” Gabe says. “I kind of assaulted the bell ringer
today.”

Sammi turns to him with interest. “You what?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he says. “I was in Produce, which I hate, when Kris told me
to go get carts. And I hate, hate, hate getting carts. I mean, I took the test to
be a cashier mainly so I could avoid getting carts.”

“Is there anything you don’t hate about working?” Tyson asks.

Gabe ignores him and continues. “But I had to go because Sammi got hurt. So, actually,
this is all your fault,
Samantha
.”

“Bite me,
Gabriel
.”

“Anyway, I get outside, and the guy is all
ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.
” He makes little circles with his head like the sound is making him dizzy. “I don’t
know about you guys, but I’m about ready to kill myself every time I hear that sound
after the last two months. And it’s all nasty outside and nobody’s even stopping long
enough to look at the idiot with the bell, much less put anything in his bucket. But
there he is, wedged into the corner next to a garbage can. He’s not even close to
the red bucket, but he’s still clanging away with the damn bell.”

He moves his hand like he’s holding the bell. “
Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.
So I’m like, ‘Really, dude? Why don’t you just pack it in?’ He tells me his shift
isn’t over, and I go, ‘Nobody’s gonna stop in weather like this.’ And he’s all, ‘I
have a job to do.’”

It’s amusing to watch Gabe tell the story since he turns his head back and forth to
play each part.

“So I get a bunch of carts, and it’s frigging disgusting out there, and everyone’s
rushing so the carts are all a big tangled mess because nobody’s pushing them in all
the way, and I can’t even use the Mule because it’s so slushy out there. . . .” He
fades off into an annoyed huff.

“Anyway, the whole time this guy is just going to town with the damn bell.
Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.
It’s like I have a drill in my brain. I’m giving him dirty looks every time I go past,
and this one time, he gives the bell a little extra
ting-a-ling
, so I know he’s being a dick to me on purpose. Then he starts doing it every time.

“Four times, I pass this guy and he’s shaking his bell right at me like an asshole.
And I
hate
doing carts, and I hate it even worse when it’s raining outside. The guy had to be
stopped.”

Everyone is leaning forward, waiting to hear what happens next.

“So on my last trip in, I grab his bell and chuck it into the parking lot. And he’s
all, ‘What the hell is your problem?’ and I’m like, ‘
You
are my problem!’ And he goes, ‘I ought to report you!’ but he’s out in the slush
looking for his bell, so I’m just like, ‘It was an accident!’ all nice like that,
and I push the carts in and then I’m gone.” He makes a speeding-off gesture with one
hand.

Sammi is doubled over with laughter by this time. “Oh. My. God. That is my favorite
story of all time.”

“I was pissed,” Gabe says defensively.

“I wish I could see that on video!” she howls.

“That might be Top Ten All-Time material,” Tyson agrees.

“You think?” I ask. “That would be a record, if we had two All-Time additions in one
day.”

“Three,” Gabe says. “Unless you’re somehow not counting the fact that we’ve been locked
up in work detention for hours.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s pretty weird, too,” I agree.

“Not to mention being accused of stealing,” Tyson adds.

“It’s been a weird day.”

“I cannot believe we are still sitting here,” Sammi says.

“My parents must be going crazy,” Micah says. “I know they’re waiting to start Christmas
Eve stuff until I get home.”

“Mine, too,” I say. “I can’t wait to see my brother, too.”

“Mine probably started without me,” Sammi says.

“My parents are going to a cocktail party at the neighbor’s house tonight,” Gabe says.
“They’re probably happy I’m not home so they don’t have to feel guilty about leaving
me behind.”

“Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask.

“One of each. Both older. A lot older,” Gabe says. “My sister is spending Christmas
with her husband’s family in Colorado this year, and my brother would rather be out
with his friends anyway.”

“So you’re going to be alone tonight?” Micah asks.

“Probably.”

“You can come to my house if you’d like,” Micah offers. “My parents always invite
over people with nowhere to go on Christmas.”

Gabe studies him for a second. “You know, I just bet they do.”

“So, do you want to come?” Micah asks.

“No. But thanks. It’s a nice offer.” Gabe shrugs, and brings his foot up to his seat
so he can worry at the hole in his sneakers with one fingertip.

No one says anything for a while, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.

“I still don’t think we should have to be fingerprinted,” Sammi says.

“I don’t really care at this point if it means we can get out of here,” Gabe says.

“I think my fingerprints are already on file,” Micah says. “My parents had it done
at a safety fair when I was younger.”

“Do you think they’ll still look the same?” I wonder, turning over my hands to look
at the whorls on my own fingertips.

“Mine are on file, too,” Sammi says suddenly.

I admit it. My thoughts go straight to all kinds of delinquency. I imagine Sammi with
a can of spray paint in her hand, or behind the wheel of a car at age twelve. She
fits easily into any of those pictures in my head.

“All foster kids get printed,” she says. “It’s part of the deal.”

“You’re a foster kid?” I ask.

“No.” She looks down her nose at me. “I got adopted when I was eight.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I pull my lower lip between my teeth. Like I
want to show her that my mouth is too busy to speak.

“That’s cool,” Tyson says. “I’ve heard it’s tough for older kids to get adopted.”

“I’ve lived with my parents since I was six,” she explains.

“Do you like them?” Micah asks.

Sammi shrugs. “They’re all right. They’re parents.”

The desire to ask about her real parents burns on my tongue, but for once I’m able
to keep quiet.

“So, you’re kind of a cliché, aren’t you?” Gabe asks.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the foster kid with the chip on her shoulder.” He grins. “I like it.”

“Shut up, Mr. Golden-Boy-Who-Can’t-Stand-Up-to-His-Father.”

Gabe throws back his head, laughing. “Well played.”

“So, what, that doesn’t bother you?” she says.

“Nah.” He lifts an imaginary cup in one hand. “A toast to being royally screwed up.
Thanks, Dad, I owe you one.”

“You’re sick,” Sammi says.

“You like it,” he replies. “Now come on, don’t leave me hanging.” He gestures with
his invisible cup.

Sammi eyes him, but slowly raises a pretend cup of her own and bumps her curved fingers
against his. “Clink,” she says.

“Anyone else?” Gabe asks, looking around the table at us.

“I’m not screwed up,” Micah says.

“Oh, yes, you are,” Gabe says. “You don’t even know how to have a normal conversation
with other human beings.”

“I don’t?” Micah looks horrified.

“Definitely not.” Sammi leans across the table with her imaginary cup still held aloft.
“But on you, it works.”

Micah’s expression is decidedly kicked-puppylike, but he lifts his hand, mimicking
her position. “All right.”

“You too,” she says to Zaina.

“Why me?”

“Anyone who is too embarrassed to buy a pregnancy test on her own register is definitely
screwed up,” Sammi says.

Zaina flushes, but raises her hand.

“Both of you.” Gabe looks at me and Tyson. “Hands.”

“What did we do?” I ask.