Top Ten Clues You’re Clueless (9 page)

Zaina fixes her eyes on me until my cheeks are on fire. Even my ears ache from the
rush of blood. I’m probably the same color as my hair at this point.

“Zaina’s Muslim, Chloe.” Micah gives the answer.

“That’s right,” Zaina confirms. “Do you suppose that makes me less charitable than
you?” The calm tone and the formal speech are dead giveaways that she’s angry; I’m
sure of it.

“No, I . . .” I look down at my lap, wanting to die. Oh God, oh God, now everyone
is going to think I’m racist. Oh God.

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Tyson says.

“Didn’t she?” Zaina shifts her gaze to Tyson. “Are you sure?” This might be the most
I’ve ever heard her speak, and it is all directed at me, but not in a good way.

“I—” My voice breaks when I try to speak up. “I just meant that it’s a collection
for Christmas dinner. . . .”

“And?” Zaina prompts.

“Nothing. I’m sorry.” My eyes sting and my nose is burning deep inside.
T minus ten seconds to tears!
my brain warns with sirens and blaring horns.

Tyson pats me on the shoulder.

“My family believes in taking care of the people of Islam
and
those of other faiths,” Zaina says slowly.

“Infidels,” Micah pipes up in his usual enthusiastic tone.

I gasp. I can’t help it.

“Nice, Micah.” Gabe groans.

“What? That’s the right word.”

Zaina narrows her eyes at him. “Why do you know so much about my religion?”

Micah blinks. “I know a lot about a lot of religions.”

“Why?”

“I know a lot about a lot of things,” he says.

Sammi bangs on the table, making Micah’s eighty-three cents in prize money jump. “All
right, all right. We’re all so much more culturally sensitive now, blah blah blah.
Can we please figure out who stole the frickin’ money so I can get out of this place
sometime before midnight?”

As a group, we look at the clock mounted on the wall above the printer. It reads two
forty-five p.m.

“I’m supposed to go home in fifteen minutes . . . ,” I say softly. My mom is going
to kill me if I’m late.

“Me too,” Gabe agrees.

“We all are,” Sammi says.

“He’s not going to keep us after the store is closed,” Zaina says. “Is he?”

“No way.” Sammi gets up and crosses to the Manager’s Office. She knocks on the door
and doesn’t wait before opening it. “Mr. Solomon, none of us did it. How long do you
expect us to sit here?”

I can’t see inside the office from this angle, but I can see when Sammi has to jog
backward as Solomon strides out to speak to us.

“The police are on their way. I’m asking that you remain here until they arrive.”

“Sir, the store is going to close in fifteen minutes,” Micah says. “Are you asking
us to stay after closing?”

“My mom will freak out if I’m late,” I say.

“Isn’t it, like, kidnapping if you keep us here against our will?” Gabe asks with
an impressive look of innocence.

For the first time, Solomon looks alarmed. Not much, but I can see he hasn’t thought
this through. He runs his tie between two fingers and straightens the already-straight
knot. “You may call your families. Tell them you’ve been asked to stay late. I can
speak to them if you wish.”

“Are you going to tell them we’ve been accused of stealing?” Micah asks.

“Now, now. No one’s saying you did it—”

“That’s exactly what you said,” Sammi interrupts.

He gives her a hard look. “I’m simply asking you to stay while we wait for the police.
It should be a simple matter to eliminate your fingerprints. The more cooperative
you are, the faster this will go. If any of you need to use the office phone to call
home, you may do so.”

As if on cue, we all pull cell phones from various pockets. Gabe and Sammi start thumb-typing,
going with the safe texting route. So much easier to get away with stuff when you
can’t hear your mother’s reaction. I consider it myself, but my mom doesn’t usually
carry her cell around with her. The text could sit unread for hours. She’ll have already
called the police to report me missing by then.

Nope, I have to do this old-school.

I can practically hear a funeral dirge as I head to a quiet corner to make the call.

Chapter 12

TOP TEN WORST MOM PHRASES

10. “Young lady . . .”

9. Anything that includes your middle name

8. “I thought you were dead! Or worse!”

7. “I worry about you!”

6. “You know, when I was your age . . .”

5. “You’re not going out like that, are you?”

4. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that again.”

3. “If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?”

2. “I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.”

1. “Do what you think is right. I’m sure you’ll make the right choice.”

The phone call goes about as well as I expected. There’s a lot of sighing and audible
fretting. She’s not happy. That’s putting it mildly. But since it’s work-related,
she can’t complain. Especially once I offer to put Mr. Solomon on the phone. I’m really
glad she doesn’t take me up on that, though. I could just picture him telling her
exactly why I’m being kept late. Alleged theft would
not
sit well with the mom.

As the minute hand passes the twelve, other employees start coming in to grab their
coats and punch out. It takes a while, as people finish side jobs and the last straggling
customers are finally seen out of the store. Everyone stares at us.

I can’t blame them. If I came into the Break Room and found six people sitting around
a table at closing time, I’d wonder what was going on, too.

The first time someone asks what we’re doing, Sammi answers honestly, “Waiting for
the police. Apparently we’re now a ring of criminal masterminds.”

The asker, who is a stocker named Dave, laughs like he’s not sure if she’s joking.

The second time, Tyson refers them to Mr. Solomon for an explanation.

The third time, Mr. Solomon has apparently had enough, because he tells us all to
go into the Manager’s Office and wait for the rest of the employees to go home. He
doesn’t lock us in, but it’s pretty clear we’re not supposed to leave. Particularly
since he stations himself outside the door wishing everyone happy holidays and generally
sounding like the fakest festive holiday kind of guy in three counties.

“This is such bullshit,” Sammi says, sliding her back down the wall to sit between
a filing cabinet and a garbage can.

“I feel like I’m in detention,” Gabe says.

“More like jail,” I say. “At least in detention there are enough chairs for everyone.”
There are only two chairs in here—the one behind the desk, which Gabe took, and the
hard plastic chair. Zaina’s sitting there. I’ve managed to hitch one hip onto the
edge of a short filing cabinet. Micah and Tyson are still standing, though they’ve
each found a spot to lean on the wall. It’s crowded to the point of making me feel
a little claustrophobic. My thermal shirt is way too warm with six bodies crammed
into this small space.

Overhead, the PA shuts up with an abrupt click and the Christmas music is gone. I
feel tension uncoil from my shoulders that I didn’t even know I was holding there.
Zaina and Tyson sigh with relief, too.

“About effin’ time!” Sammi says in a voice loud enough to be heard in the Break Room.

“Don’t you worry that you’re going to get in trouble for talking like that?” Micah
asks her.

“All I said was
effing
.” She looks through her bangs at him. “Don’t want to offend your virgin ears and
all.”

“I didn’t mean the swearing,” Micah says.

“He means you have a bad attitude,” Gabe says.

“Kiss my ass, Gabe,” she says. “You don’t have to, Micah.”

Gabe laughs and makes a big kissy sound in the air. Micah’s expression is one I would
call Confused Puppy.

“Besides, someone’s got to have some attitude around here. We’re being held against
our will in a windowless room!” she shouts, again for Solomon’s benefit. “This is
definitely in violation of fire codes! How are we supposed to get out of here if there’s
a fire?!”

No one from the outside answers.

“See?” Sammi continues. “If we don’t make some noise, they’ll probably leave us in
here all night. We’ll all suffocate and they’ll find our corpses on Christmas morning.
How festive!”

“Store’s closed tomorrow,” I remind her.

“Even better! We’ll have time to start rotting. Stinking corpses on the day after
Christmas!”

“All right, Sam! Jeez. Give it a fricking rest.” Gabe rolls his eyes, earning a nasty
look from her. “You’re going to give us all hearing damage.”

She opens her mouth for a retort, but I cut her off. “Zaina, did you tell Mr. Solomon
how much money you put in today?”

“Of course,” she says.

“And did you tell him you do it every time you work?” I’m trying to remember Micah’s
earlier calculations.

“I answered his questions,” she nonanswers.

“Sounds kind of shady, if you ask me, Z,” Sammi declares, grinning. “You sure you
were putting money
in
the box?”

Zaina’s head whips up, her eyes cold. “Are you accusing me of stealing?”

Sammi puts her hands up. “Relax. It was a joke.”

“I don’t think it’s very funny.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

“Why are you picking on her?” Tyson says.

“It was a
joke
.” She shoves herself up from the floor and walks to the far corner of the room, which
is all of three steps away. “Christ. What is the big deal?”

“You should apologize,” Tyson insists.

Sammi stares at him, but Tyson meets her gaze without hesitation. Finally, she lets
out a short bark of laughter. “Oh my God, you’re serious.”

“Let it go, Tyce,” Gabe says. “She was just joking around.”

“No, no. He’s right, Gabe. I mean, God forbid anyone should be offended around here,
right?” Sammi clasps her hands under her chin. “Gee, Zaina, I’m awful sorry I made
a joke that hurt your widdle feewings. I’m sure you’ve never stolen anything in your
sweet, pure life!”

Zaina’s jaw clenches and she looks down.

“Why do you have to be such a bitch?” Tyson says.

“Why do you have to defend her? She giving you a little action when no one’s around?”

“Sammi!” Gabe says at the same time that Zaina starts to say, “You can’t talk about—”

Just then the office door opens and Solomon stares at us. Everyone goes silent.

“The rest of the employees have gone home,” he says. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“So we get to come out now?” Micah asks.

“Please.” He gestures like he’s an usher at a fancy theater.

“Finally.” Sammi glares at everyone before storming past Solomon into the Break Room.

Gabe turns back to look at the rest of us, still crammed in the office. “Z, she didn’t
mean anything by it.”

“It’s Zaina. And you shouldn’t defend her all the time,” Zaina says curtly before
she walks out to take up a position as far from Sammi as possible.

“Sammi acts tough, but she’s not actually mean.” Gabe seems eager to convince at least
one of us as we file out. As soon as we’re clear of the door, Solomon goes inside
and lets it shut behind him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk about me when I can hear you, geniuses,” Sammi says from
near the bank of lockers.

“Do you ever get tired of being such a bitch all the time?” Tyson asks.

Her jaw slides to one side. “Do you ever get tired of being so fake?”

“Fake?” he repeats.

“You always act so nice. ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ and ‘Yes, sir!’ Like you’re so polite
and perfect. It’s disgusting.”

“Shut up!” The words are out of my mouth before I knew I was going to speak.

Sammi zeroes in on me. “Bite me, Red.”

“Leave her alone,” Tyson says.

“Oh, here we go.” She rolls her eyes. “Time to be the knight in shining armor.”

“Sam.” Gabe speaks in a low voice.

“Stay out of it, Gabe.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend.”

“To who?” she demands. “To them? Or to me?”

“To all of you.”

“Yeah? Well, you can leave me out of it, okay? Does that make it easier?” She slumps
into a chair, face turned to avoid looking at any of us.

No one speaks. My whole body feels like it’s crawling with bugs, and my stomach is
churning. I hate situations like this.

I have to do something, even if it makes me look like an idiot. Anything will be better
than this bath of unspent hostility.

Diving headlong into potential disaster, I ask, “How’s your thumb, Sammi?”

Her eyes slide to me before her head turns. “Oh, it’s fantastic. It feels so great,
I’m thinking of cutting the rest of my fingers open, too.”

“What happened to your thumb?” Micah asks.

“She sliced it with a box cutter,” Gabe answers before she can. “Pretty bad.”

“Ouch,” Micah says.

“Don’t talk about me behind my back.” Sammi stands, glaring at Gabe.

“Actually, I’m talking about you
in front
of your back.”

“Whatever.” Sammi kicks her chair farther away from the table and sits mostly turned
away from the rest of us. I can see the backs of all her earrings in one ear and the
curve of her cheek.

“Don’t be like that.” Gabe taps her chair with his foot. “It’s not like I told them
some major secret.”

“It’s fine. I don’t even care.”

“Yeah, you sound totally over it.”

She whips her head to look at him. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

“Fine by me.”

She turns away from him again, but Gabe picks up another chair and moves it around
to face hers. He sits, clearing his throat and looking impassively at her.

“Do you think that’s funny?” she says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were speaking to me.”

“Shut up.” She shifts, uncrossing her legs to give his chair a push with her foot.

He nudges his chair closer. “Excuse me, you’re in my space.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she says, but even from this oblique angle, I can see she’s
starting to smile.

“You’re so shitty at pouting.” He leans forward, elbows on knees to speak softly to
her. “And it’s really annoying on top of that, so could you knock it off?”

She tries to scowl at him, but fails.

I can’t take my eyes off them. They’re a strange pair, but Gabe actually seems to
get her.

After a moment of murmured talk between them, he stands up and goes behind her chair
to turn it with her still sitting in it. The rubberized feet squeal across the floor.
She’s trying to look pissed, but she’s also trying not to laugh as he scoots her closer
to the rest of us with an earsplitting
rrreeeeeeeeeee!

“There!” he says in a cheerful, preschool-teacher voice. “Look at these nice people
who are trapped in work jail with you. Don’t you want to play with them?”

She twists to swat him in the stomach with the back of her hand. “God, you’re such
a pain in the ass.”

I can’t help noticing her hand as she smacks him. It’s the one she cut earlier, but
my awful bandage is gone. I blurt out, “Did the bandage fall off?” totally alerting
them to the fact that I’m watching them like a TV show.

She shrugs, inspecting her thumb casually. “I couldn’t do anything with it. Rick superglued
it for me.”

“What?” Tyson can’t help himself; he moves toward her for a closer look.

“Superglue?” I ask. “Is that safe?”

“Dunno, but it burns like a son of a bitch, I can tell you that,” she says.

“Can I—?” Tyson holds out one hand, hesitant.

She gives him a sideways thumbs-up, revealing a row of small bandages.

“Is that okay? To use it on your skin, I mean?” I ask.

“It worked.”

“Doctors in the military used superglue for lots of things during Vietnam,” Micah
supplies. “There’s a medical grade now, but it’s a slightly different chemical.”

“Man, you’re a nerd,” Gabe says.

Micah shrugs.

“Pretty clean cut,” Tyson says, inspecting her hand up close now.

“I don’t fuck around.” She takes her hand back and tucks it into crossed arms.

Suddenly Tyson seems to realize he’s been admiring the cut of a girl he recently called
a bitch. Twice. He clears his throat and steps back a few paces. “Look, Sammi, I’m—”

She shakes her head. “Just forget it.”

“No, but I—”

“Seriously, forget it, okay? We’re all stuck here. It’s fine.” She looks at us through
her bangs for a second, then down at her hands. “Sorry.”

He nods. I check over my shoulder to see what Zaina’s doing, but she doesn’t make
eye contact. She’s sitting at one of the other tables, focused on a spot a few inches
from her folded hands.

As much as I want to, I don’t know how to break the ice with her.

“How long do you think it’ll take the police to get here?” I ask, mostly for distraction.

“Somehow, this doesn’t strike me as a nine-one-one occasion,” Tyson says.

“I know, right?” Sammi agrees. “Quick! Come to GoodFoods, it’s possible someone stole
some money, but I don’t know how much, or if anything was actually even stolen! Hurry!”

Gabe holds an imaginary phone up to his ear. “Uh, sir, you do realize there are consequences
for making a fake call to nine-one-one?” he says in a nasally tone.

Sammi grins. “But this
is
an emergency! Send a SWAT team! There are a few twenty-dollar bills missing!” She’s
really hamming it up now, making Gabe laugh.

“It could be eighty, even . . .
gasp
. . . one
hundred
dollars!” he adds.

“Actually, it’s probably closer to ten thousand,” Micah says absently.

The room goes still. It’s so quiet, I literally hear water dripping into the sink.
Makes me wish I had a pin to drop.