Top Ten Clues You’re Clueless (17 page)

“Kris?” Officer Harper calls out. His voice is nearly absorbed by the refrigeration
units. They remind me of the deafening white noise on an airplane. “If you’re in here,
please come forward. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

More metallic sounds from the left. I lean back, squinting into the dark for any sign
of what’s causing it. The only light comes from caged fluorescents near the ceiling.
They barely penetrate down by the floor.

The shuffling on the other side of the crate comes again, but this time it sounds
farther away.

“Don’t make this hard on yourself, Kris,” Officer Harper calls.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Zaina breathes in my ear.

She’s totally right, of course. We should have stayed in the Break Room. But we’re
here now, and it seems like we might as well help. Or try to, anyway.

I look at Sammi and mime pushing the shipping crate. She smiles, nods, and applies
her hands to it. I do the same and we give it a little force. It doesn’t move much,
but it does scuff an inch or so across the concrete floor. The shuffling sound comes
back, louder this time and moving away.

“Again,” Sammi whispers. We give it another push.

“Kris, I can hear you. You might as well cooperate. This will go a lot easier.” Harper’s
radio crackles, and he speaks into it. It’s too hard to hear what he’s saying.

I get back to a crouch and run, hunched, in the direction I last saw Tyson. Zaina
gasps when I move, but I don’t stop until I reach the pallet where he disappeared.
Then I squeeze through the same spot and nearly trip over him on the other side.

He grabs me by the arms and yanks me down. I fall into his lap with a grunt and he
holds a finger to his lips. He pushes back stray hairs that have sprung loose from
my ponytail, finding my ear to whisper, “What are you doing?”

I turn my head to speak into his ear, putting our cheeks together like we’re slow
dancing, except it’s kind of nerdy because the temples of our glasses click together.
But nerds slow dance, too, right? “We shoved a crate a little bit before, and it got
Kris to move. I think we can push him toward the cop.”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

His breath is hot against my cheek in contrast to the temperature of the cooler. “We
should stay out of it.”

“We’re already in it.” I ease back to look at him. We’ve never been this close before.

He licks his lips, and pulls me close to whisper once more. “I don’t want you to get
hurt.”

My stomach turns somersaults of a new variety. “I don’t want you to get hurt, either.
But I want to get out of here, don’t you?”

“All right.” His lips brush against my ear, and I try not to shiver. “What do you
want to do?”

I lean back to look him in the eyes. “I want to get this guy.”

He smiles. “So, you’re all tough now?”

And I realize that I actually do feel kind of tough. Me.
I
solved the mystery.
I
ran after the bad guy. Sure, maybe I was the last to get here, but it was me who
had the idea to move the crates to flush Kris out.

Maybe I really am tough. Maybe I should get those bright blue highlights Sammi was
talking about. Then I might even be approaching badass territory.

“What’s the plan?” Tyson whispers.

“We just . . . push.” I shrug. It’s not much of a plan, but it worked before, and
I’m amped to see it work again. So amped, in fact, that I decide to let my runaway
mouth do something useful for once. “But first—”

Before I can think any more about it, I lean into him and press my lips to his. I
kiss him like I actually know what I’m doing. Like I’ve thrown myself at dozens of
guys before—or, better yet, like dozens of them have thrown themselves at me. He’s
startled, but only for a second, and then he responds, cupping the back of my head
while his other arm tightens against my back.

With my brain still zinging around in the stratosphere, I pull back. “For luck. Now,
come on. Let’s catch a bad guy!”

As I climb out of his lap, I’m amazed to realize my cheeks aren’t flaming with embarrassment.
I can’t believe I just kissed him, but now that it’s done, I honestly feel more relaxed.
Even with him staring at me, looking a little dazed.

We crouch together behind the giant cardboard box on top of the pallet.

“One, two, three,” Tyson counts softly, and then we push. The box must be full of
something a lot heavier than the empty boxes in the one Sammi and I shoved, because
it barely moves. The sound doesn’t even penetrate the general din.

I frown. “Okay, that won’t work.”

“Come on.” Tyson skulks away from the box, finding a produce cart nearby. It’s empty,
so I worry that it’ll be too light to make any kind of noise, but when he gives it
a serious push, the wheels screech like an angry cat and it slams into another nearby
pallet.

“That’ll do,” I whisper as we duck back behind another box.

“Come on out, Kris!” shouts Harper again. “We’ve already called for backup. You’re
not going to get away. Why not cooperate?”

In the distance, I hear another loud crash, and grin at Tyson.

“This is nuts,” he whispers.

“Let’s go.” I sneak back the way I came from, making my way toward the back entrance
as best I can. Movement on the left makes me pause, but then I see a flash of long
black hair and realize Zaina is rolling one of the big towering carts filled with
milk. She gets it wedged between two crates, making that particular path impassible.
It’s like a barricade. Then I see Sammi doing the same a little farther down.

Then comes another loud crash from the other side of the room. Gabe’s laughter rings
out.

“Kris, don’t be stupid!” Harper shouts. Does he even know we’re in the room with him?
I wonder where Reyes is, and if there really is backup on the way. I hope so.

A few more thumps and crashes ring out, and suddenly I spot Kris. He’s only about
ten feet away from me, but moving away, toward the back wall. The loading docks are
back there, with their giant garage doors closed. I have no idea how they open, or
if they’re locked in some way, but I don’t want him to get close enough to try one.

Without a second thought, I stand up, and call out as loud as I can, “He’s at the
loading dock!”

I don’t know exactly what happens next, because Tyson grabs me by the arm and yanks
me down hard enough to make me yelp in pain. There’s some shouting and a long chattering
sound, then Harper’s voice and the static of his radio.

“Reyes, I’ve got him. In the storage area. Loading dock.”

Chapter 21

FICTIONAL CHARACTERS I NOW OFFICIALLY RESEMBLE

Velma

Nancy Drew

Veronica Mars

Sherlock Holmes

“I can’t believe how dumb you are,” Sammi says as we gather our stuff from our lockers.
She’s said it three times already. It’s the first time one of her insults has given
me a little glow of pride.

I shrug. “I didn’t want him to get away.”

“What if he’d had a gun?” Tyson says.

“You guys are the ones who ran after him in the first place,” I point out.

“We weren’t even sure he did anything wrong,” he retorts.

“Yeah, because innocent people usually run away from the cops,” Gabe says.

I point to Gabe. “Exactly. That’s what I was thinking.”

“You were not.” Sammi rolls her eyes.

I smile. I’m giddy, like I just hopped down from the summit of Everest.

“I still can’t believe Kris stole the money,” Micah says.

“I know,” I agree. “He was always so nice. I never would have guessed.”

“It’s always the ones you least suspect,” Gabe says.

“He’s not that nice,” Zaina reminds us.

I glance at her, but her face doesn’t show any emotion.

“Look on the bright side, Z,” Sammi says. “Dude got tased. He probably pissed himself.”

“I can’t believe he blamed us,” Tyson says. Solomon told us that the reason we’d all
been detained at the store was that Kris had told him privately that he had reason
to believe it was one of us.

“Asshole,” Sammi said.

“I just can’t believe Solomon believed him,” Zaina says.

“He
is
the owner’s son,” I remind her. “I’m sure Mr. Solomon was thinking about his job.”

“But why
us
?” Tyson says.

“He was probably trying to buy himself time to make a getaway,” Gabe reasoned. “Maybe
he figured nothing would happen to us since he knew for a fact we hadn’t done it.”

“And he probably thought it wouldn’t matter what happened to us since we’re minors,”
I add.

“I’m not,” Gabe says. “What a jerk.”

“What I don’t understand,” Zaina says, “is why he stayed here at the store after it
was closed. He knew he stole the money. Why would he stay?”

“Because I asked him to.” Mr. Solomon startles us all, speaking from the door to the
Manager’s Office. “I thought it would be helpful for you all to have a familiar face.”

“I can’t believe he stayed,” Gabe says.

“Well, obviously he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.” Sammi crosses her arms.
“He stole a bunch of charity money from his own father’s company.”

“And kept marked bills in his pocket,” I say.

Solomon sighs. “He always seemed like a good employee. This is quite a blow.”

“Sorry, Mr. Solomon,” Micah says.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have kept you here on one
person’s word. It’s Christmas Eve, for heaven’s sake.”

“It’s all right,” Gabe says.

“I know this won’t make up for keeping you here, but why don’t you each take something
from the bakery for your families? My treat.”

There are general sounds of agreement and thanks, and he smiles.

“I’ll go turn the lights on in that area.”

I wind my scarf around my neck. “Thanks again for taking care of me earlier, you guys.”

“No problem.” Tyson hooks his thumbs in his pockets and gives me a look that reminds
me of my mother when she doesn’t approve of something. “Just don’t ever try to hide
that stuff from us again.”

“Yeah, really,” Gabe agrees.

“We don’t want you to get sick,” Zaina says.

“I’m sorry. I just . . . people act weird when they find out.”

“People
are
weird,” Sammi says.

“Well, you are.” Gabe knocks her gently with his elbow.

She shakes her head at him. “Remind me to kick your ass later.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.” He goes into a low stance, like he’s guarding her
in basketball, dodging from side to side while she stands still, regarding him with
amusement.

“Come on, hero, let’s go get some free cake.”

They walk ahead of the rest of us as we go toward the bakery to meet Solomon. Tyson
carries my mom’s ham for me, which slows him down. I hang back with him—it’s my ham,
after all—but after a second, he catches me by the elbow to slow me until the others
are practically out of sight. I look at him, curious.

“Before, in the cooler?” he says.

The familiar feeling of heat rushes into my face. So I guess my journey toward general
badassery isn’t quite complete. I swallow hard. “Yeah, about that. I know you probably
didn’t want me to—you know. It was just—”

“Why would you think that?” he interrupts, looking 100 percent confused.

“Wait . . . what?” The others are around the corner now, leaving us alone in the dark
Produce department. It smells like apples and damp cardboard.

He shakes his head and shifts the ham under one arm, freeing up a hand to push his
glasses up. “What I was trying to say before was that I liked it.”

Self-conscious, I look down, but I can’t help smiling. “Really?”

“Except—”

Oh no. All the heat drains from my face in an instant.

He shifts to lower the ham to the floor. “—I should have done it first.”

My heart roars to life again. “Yeah?”

He catches my arm by the elbow and pulls me closer. Then he slides his arms around
my waist and bends to kiss me.

It’s so much better not sitting on the floor of a cold storage warehouse. I struggle
to keep my knees from buckling as every nerve in my body sizzles and jumps.

Tyson doesn’t kiss me for long, but my head is spinning when he stops. I look up at
him, giggling for no good reason.

“So, do you want a ride home?” I ask.

He smiles. “Definitely.”

“Okay, but you have to carry the ham.”

He laughs. “As you wish.”

Chapter 22

TOP TEN WEIRDEST THINGS TO EVER HAPPEN IN GOODFOODS MARKET*

(As compiled by Chloe Novak, Tyson Scott, Micah Yoder, Sammi Baker, Zaina Malak, and
Gabe Rossi)

10. When a group of people dressed like vampires came in and bought a bunch of meat.

9. The guy who tried to hold up one of the cashiers, but accidentally showed that
his “gun” was actually a squirt gun so another customer just grabbed him.

8. The man who came in dressed in a silver suit, said he was from the future, and
demanded to know where we kept the nutrition tablets.

7. The man who paid his entire grocery bill—$215.56—in coins.

6. The stocker who quit in the middle of his shift after setting off a cherry bomb
in a gallon of milk.

5. The woman who put her dog in a dress and drove her around the store sitting in
the child seat. And when Kris tried to enforce the “No Dogs” policy, she claimed he
was a service dog that helped her with her depression.

4. The customer who slapped the other shift manager, Randy, in the face.

3. When Gabe assaulted the Salvation Army bell ringer.

2. The woman who ate chips and dip in the bathroom stall, then gave half a bottle
of peppermint schnapps to Sammi.

1. The time Kris stole all the charity money, blamed us, ran from the cops on Christmas
Eve, and we all saved the day.

*A work in progress

A few hours ago, I would have paid good money to be outside the building and ready
to head home. Now, I feel almost reluctant to leave everyone.

Tyson is coming with me, of course, and he stands beside me with my ham under one
arm, and his other hand against my back. I like the way it feels there, even if the
slight contact makes it hard to concentrate.

Micah and Zaina, neither of whom drove, both need rides. Sammi is going to take Micah
home, and Gabe’s taking Zaina.

This morning, I would never have imagined Sammi submitting to being in an enclosed
space with Micah for the entirety of a car ride. It has definitely been a strange
day.

And still we all linger in the lot, despite the frigid air. The frozen rain cleared
off at some point, leaving the sky a deep, velvety black, pinpointed with stars. Our
breathing makes cloud after cloud of vapor that fades into the dark.

“It’s a good night to look for Santa Claus,” I say, thinking of younger years when
I’d spent Christmas Eve craning my neck at the sky.

“My sister must be loving this,” Micah says.

That makes me think of my brother, home from college, and my mother, probably wringing
her hands with worry over what, if anything, I’ve eaten since I left this morning.
Not to mention the whereabouts of her ham. When I tell her about the day, I’m definitely
going to leave out the part where I almost passed out from low blood sugar.

“I should go,” I say at last.

“We all should,” Tyson agrees.

We say good-bye to one another. A few Merry Christmases drift over the roofs of the
cars as we open doors. Micah asks when everyone is working again and we tell him.
No one is working tomorrow, obviously, and only Tyson and Sammi are on the day after
that. I feel a strange sense of loneliness thinking of not seeing these people again
for a while.

Tyson knows the deal with my car from previous rides home, so he gets in first and
reaches across to release the latch on my side. It’s nice not to crawl across the
front. When I turn the engine over, I smile at him, and he reaches out to squeeze
my hand. Even with gloves on, the warmth of his palm reaches mine and I feel the urge
to giggle again.

Instead, I have to take my hand back for a moment to back out of my parking space.
Gabe is the first in line with Sammi queued behind him to pull out of the lot, but
the brake lights on Gabe’s car are still lit. Suddenly, the door opens and he gets
out.

My finger finds the switch to let my window down, wondering what Gabe has to say,
but he stops at Sammi’s window first and taps on it until she rolls it down.

It’s hard to hear anything from where we’re idling, but it’s not hard to figure out
what’s happening when Gabe leans in the window. My headlights catch their silhouettes
as she turns her head slightly. They are unmistakably kissing.

“Oh my God!” My glasses slide down my nose as I whip my head to look at Tyson. “Did
you see that?”

“I saw.”

“What did—when did—wha . . . ?” I stammer.

Gabe pulls back, resting his elbows on the window frame for a second. He smiles, nods,
gives a little salute to Micah, and straightens up. Holding up a hand to block the
glare of my headlights from his eyes, he trots toward us.

My window is already down, so he just bends slightly to look through the opening at
us.

“So, I’m thinking we should probably hang out. You guys wanna come by my house? Maybe
the day after tomorrow? When Tyce and Sammi are done with work?”

It’s the last thing I expected. “Um . . . sure.”

“Gimme your number,” he says. “I’ll text you the address.” He opens his phone and
hands it to me to type in my info.

I do, even though I’m still a little stunned, and pass it to Tyson.

Tyson takes the phone, but ducks to look at him. “What the hell was that?” He points
to Sammi’s car.

Gabe shrugs. “Just something I had to do.”

“But—” I start, but I can’t finish. I have no idea what to say.

Tyson makes a dismissive sound, but types in his number and hands the phone back to
Gabe.

“Merry Christmas, you guys,” he says.

“Merry Christmas,” I say, my mind still running on autopilot.

He jogs back to his own car, thumping his fist lightly on Sammi’s window as he passes
her. I strain to see her through the rear window, but she’s too hidden behind the
headrest. I can’t see Micah, either.

“That was . . . weird,” Tyson says.

“You could say that.” I nod, watching the brake lights dim as Gabe puts his car into
gear and cruises away from the lot. Sammi is quick to follow, her car going in the
opposite direction.

“What the hell went down in that cooler today?” he wonders.

“I have no idea.”

“Weird.”

“So, like, are we all going to be friends now?” I ask.

Tyson reaches across to take my hand again. “I don’t know. Maybe. Might be worth a
try, right?”

I think about that.

I think about Sammi’s attitude, and Micah’s naive genius, and Zaina’s shyness. I think
of how they all rallied to take care of me, and how none of them treated me any different
when it was over. I think of how lonely I’ve been since I started at my new school.
I think about how I don’t really want to leave, even after all these hours together.
Even with my family waiting at home.

I think a lot about Tyson, and how he kissed me the second time, and how maybe I hadn’t
been so off base with my crush after all. I think about the way I’ve never told my
parents I take Tyson home sometimes, knowing they’d worry about me driving around
someone they didn’t know, about the “bad” parts of town that are so much closer to
his neighborhood than mine, about me being alone with a boy of any kind.

I think I’m going to have to tell them about him when I get home. Him and all of it.
They’re not going to be thrilled at first, but maybe they’ll see that I can take care
of myself after all.

Maybe things can finally change. At least a little bit. Maybe I can finally stop being
their precious, broken baby girl.

It’s worth a try, right?

“Yeah, I think it is,” I say finally.

“Me too,” Tyson says.

When I pull up to the curb outside Tyson’s house, he leans across, cupping my cheek
to pull me close and kiss me once more. And if it took being under pseudoarrest in
a grocery store on Christmas Eve for that to happen, it was all worth it.

THINGS THAT ARE BETTER THAN KISSING TYSON SCOTT

1. Kissing him again