Life After Theft (11 page)

“You lied to me?”

I didn’t even have the energy to dignify that question with a response.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice getting shriller.

“Two words,” I said, groping blindly for the edge of my blanket to pull it over my head. “Special. Guest.”

That got her. Well, for a few seconds. “Langdon invited you as his special guest?” she said quietly.

“Yep,” I said from underneath the comforter. “Thanks for the warning.”

She was silent for a good thirty seconds. I wasn’t convinced I had ever been in her presence for a silent thirty seconds. I hoped she was feeling bad.

“I’m stuck with the loser who got brought out to Harrison Hill to be Langdon’s special guest. I
am
in hell!”

My eyes popped open and I peeked out at her. “Seriously?” I croaked. “I almost got burned at the social stake and you’re concerned about your reputation? Which, by the way, doesn’t matter because you’re
dead?
” Maybe we were
both
in hell.

“Oh sure,” Kimberlee said. “Play the dead card. That’s fair.”

“I’m not trying to play
cards
. All I’m saying is that you could have warned me that Langdon’s an asshat and told me to stay away from him
always
, not just when he’s drunk.”

“Hey, Langdon’s a nice guy.”

“No, Kimberlee, he’s not! He’s a sociopath. Anyone who would purposely get someone drunk just to make fun of them is a worthless jerk. Period. End of story.”

Kimberlee snapped her mouth shut and clenched her jaw. For one terrifying moment I thought she was going to start yelling again. Then, for some reason, she burst into tears and left.

I will never understand girls.

WHEN I ARRIVED AT SERA’S
, all I could do was sit in my car and stare. This was not a
house
. It was like a cross between a mansion and a castle. A mastle. Even Kimberlee’s house wasn’t this big.

At the top of a winding walkway I was almost surprised to find double wooden doors instead of a drawbridge. I tried to decide if it was more appropriate to knock or ring the bell and briefly wondered if there would be a butler.

Finally I decided that unless there
was
a butler standing within about three feet of the door, no one was ever going to hear me knock. I sucked in a breath and touched the glowing white button to the right of the door. Honestly, I expected to hear something like a big gong from inside, but what I actually heard was nothing. I was just starting to wonder if the bell was broken, or if I hadn’t pushed it hard enough, when the doorknob turned.

I was pretty sure it wasn’t a butler, but seeing as how the person who opened the door was a man in a suit—tie and all—I think my momentary confusion was justifiable. We stared at each other for about five seconds before the man raised an eyebrow and asked, “Can I help you?”

And since I’m always cool under pressure I gracefully responded, “Yeah, um, Sera and . . . Is Sera . . . I mean, can I . . .” Finally I thrust out my hand and said with a stupid grin, “I’m Jeff.”

He looked at my hand for a beat before shaking it with a less-than-confident grip. And I don’t mean
self
-confidence.

“I’m here to pick up Sera,” I said, still smiling like a dork and trying to figure out just who this guy was. Dad? Creepy uncle? And I still hadn’t
entirely
ruled out the butler thing.

“Oh,” he said, his eyes narrowing. That definitely swung the votes in favor of
dad
. I irrationally wished I’d worn a tie.

“I’m here!” Sera called from the top of the stairs, hurrying down. Right before her dad’s eyes swung to her, she mouthed
I’m sorry
to me.

We managed to make it out of the house without too much drama, although Sera’s mom did peer around one of the many doorways to remind Sera to be home by ten. Or at least she said the words “Sera, remember, home by ten,” but the whole time she was staring straight at me.

Once the front door was shut and we were far enough that I was
fairly
sure that they couldn’t hear us, I asked, “Man, how is it that parents manage to be the scariest creatures on the face of the earth?”

“You’re telling me,” Sera grumbled.

I looked sidelong at her. “They’re scary to you, too?”

“They rule my life.”

I guess she was right, but I never thought about
my
parents that way. They were cool; always had been. Note to self: I am lucky.

We got into the car and I eased Halle away from the curb. I had a sneaking suspicion Sera’s parents wouldn’t be overly impressed by my peeling out of their pristine cobblestone driveway. “You can, uh, pick whatever you want to listen to,” I said, pointing at the radio.

Without a word she flipped the station to something rock, but not hard, then turned the sound down to an obvious talking level.
Excellent
.

“So, where do you want to go?” I asked.

“Well, I did say something about a movie earlier today,” she said helpfully.

I fidgeted. “Yeah, but . . . I was hoping we could talk. Last night”—I laughed as I ran my fingers through my hair—“I was in bad shape.” I wondered if it was a stupid move to even remind her. “I just . . . I want to spend some time with you when we’re both on even ground.”

She smiled. “Sooooo,” Sera said, dragging out the word, “did you have any suggestions?”

“Um, are you hungry?”

“Like any proper girl going on a date of unknown destination, I am
halfway
hungry.”

“Uh . . . what?”

“It’s when you eat a little bit before you go out so that you’re hungry enough to eat something if the guy takes you for food, and full enough that you won’t be starving the whole time if he doesn’t.”

Sera always has a plan. And probably a backup plan.

I never do.

“How about dessert?” I asked.

“Dessert?”

“Yeah, since you’re all halfway hungry, you know?”
Wait
—I framed the question carefully. “Do you . . . eat dessert?” I mean, you never know with girls.

She gave me a full-out grin on that one and I about melted. “I love dessert.”

I pulled into the first restaurant I saw and a few minutes later we were tucked into a booth with a peanut-butter milkshake and a brownie-fudge sundae in front of us as well as a Diet Coke. I always think it’s weird to see people who order a dessert . . . and a Diet Coke.

“I like the way it tastes,” Sera said, defending herself when I pointed it out.

“Suuure,” I slurred, spooning the whipped cream off the top of my milkshake.

We polished off our desserts in the first fifteen minutes or so, then sat and talked idly. She told me about Whitestone; I told her about Phoenix. And I had to ask her what it was like living in such an enormous house.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it,” she admitted. “We have a gym and a theater room; I have my own bathroom, that kind of thing. But . . . I don’t know, when I think of my ‘family’ I don’t think of my parents. I think of Khail. Just him. I guess I wish I had a real family and a smaller house.”

I grinned and told her about my parents and their rather inauspicious beginning. “I have a few memories of living in an apartment where my ‘room’ was the couch,” I said, and she shook her head.

“Seems like everyone wants what they don’t have,” she said, then looked up at me. “But you kinda have everything you want now, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “I’m lucky, I guess.” Or would be, if I could get rid of psycho ghost girl and keep things moving along with Sera.

Another hour passed in good but oddly awkwardness-free small talk until the waitress’s glares became a little too obvious to ignore.

“Not exactly your ‘linger over coffee’ kind of restaurant, I guess,” Sera said with a giggle as we headed into the parking lot. I wondered if it would be too weird to take her hand. After all, we were only twenty feet from my car.

But it also seemed weird to not do anything. Finally, when we were only about ten feet away, I placed my hand at the small of her back. She didn’t react; I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. When we reached the car she turned and looked up at me as she leaned against the door.

“So, what now?” she asked with a coy grin.

I found myself smiling back. “I don’t know.”

She looked down at her watch. “Well, I have to be back in twenty minutes, but that gives us about ten before we have to actually get going.”

Was she trying to say something? I couldn’t be sure.

I finally decided that at the very least, she was saying
something
, so I carefully placed my hands on either side of her waist, making sure I wasn’t putting them anywhere near her ass. No repeating my lame mistakes from last night.

She smiled up at me like she was indulging me, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m not really like the guys you usually date, am I?” I asked. May as well know.

She laughed, and shook her head. “Maybe not.”

“Then . . . why did you say yes?” Part of me didn’t want to know, but hey, after embarrassing myself so badly last night, a simple question could hardly be a deal breaker.

“Well,” she said, looking thoughtful for a few seconds. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in a while—”

Great. I’m the rebound guy
. I braced myself.

“But when I was dating a lot it was always jocks or the really popular guys and they all turned out to be jerks.” She shrugged. “You seem nice.
Actually
nice—not just nice to get in my pants.”

Well . . 
.

“And I guess I’m trying to follow my instincts this time instead of my social compass.”

Was that a compliment or not? Screw it—I didn’t care.

So I kissed her.

Her mouth was so soft and warm I could hardly believe it was real. But when I got nervous and pulled away, her fingers pressed tight against my back and she ran her other arm up around my neck, pulling my face back down to hers. My hands, still at her waist, pulled her toward me, our hips snug. I could taste the restaurant’s complimentary mint on her breath. Her hands gripped my shoulders, almost like she needed help balancing. Foreheads still touching, I reluctantly ended our kiss.

And when she smiled I started another one.

I did manage to get her home on time. Barely.

“SO WHEN DO WE DO IT?”
Kimberlee asked just before getting out of the car the next morning. It wasn’t a
great
plan, but it would work.

“Not during Bleekman’s class. Or Wilkinson’s. I left his class on Friday. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Okay, how about second hour? That’ll give me enough time to get the combos. You can tell Mrs. Campbell you have to pee.”

My shoulders slumped at the thought of carrying around the piss-pass again. “Fine,” I said. “You do your job and I’ll do mine.”

“Whatevs,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and strolling off. She looked so normal and solid until someone walked too close and an arm or a shoulder passed through her. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

Luckily, I had something much more pleasant to look forward to. “Hey!” I said, smiling as I approached Sera at her locker.

She turned and smiled back and I tried to move in for a kiss and she turned it into a hug.

Yeeeeeah
.

“Sorry,” Sera said, sounding very genuine and impulsively grabbing for my hand instead. “I swear, I don’t know how to do this anymore. I’ll be honest: I haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. Like, over a year. I’m . . . rusty.” Her face flushed and I was stunned to realize that she wasn’t having second thoughts about
me
; she really was just out of practice.

I could work with that.

“Sera,” I said, and I waited until she looked up at me. “It’s okay, things are kinda new. But I had a great weekend with you, and I don’t want that to go away.” I grinned now and leaned my face a little closer. “And if you just want to use me as your get-back-in-the-game fling, well—I’ve done worse.”

She totally cracked a smile.

The bell rang, a loud clang in my ears that made me grit my teeth, but at least the air was cleared. “So . . . see you at lunch?” I asked, shifting my backpack.

“Yeah.”

I didn’t try for a kiss again—just squeezed her hand. I really liked her and I wasn’t going to mess things up by being impatient. I could wait.

For a while.

Besides, I had work to do today. I didn’t hear a word in Bleekman’s class—just kept wondering if Kimberlee was going to come through for me. I mean, it was her salvation and all, but I never could tell with her.

But just before English ended, Kimberlee slipped in—through the wall—and started whispering numbers in my ear. I wrote them down in my notebook vertically, hoping that if someone looked over my shoulder they wouldn’t be able to figure out what they were.

And maybe because it made me feel all secret-agentish.

Kimberlee followed me to second hour and hovered over my desk in the most nerve-racking way possible. Of course.

Class started and, without so much as a hello, Mrs. Campbell stepped up to the board and began lecturing. My class in Phoenix hadn’t been quite as far along as this one, so I really couldn’t afford to space. I attempted to tune out Kimberlee asking, “Is it time yet?” about every three minutes and waited until halfway through the class, then sheepishly raised my hand.

Mrs. Campbell looked at me skeptically when I picked up my backpack on the way out the door, but she didn’t stop me. After all, I was carrying the oversized pass and I’d left my book on my desk. Not really an ideal combination for ditching.

As soon as the door closed, Kimberlee led me to the closest locker. I was glad, for once, that she was there. I’d have spent my full bathroom-plausible ten minutes just looking for it. As the combination lock clicked open I looked surreptitiously down both halls, certain someone was going to burst in at any moment.

“Go!” Kimberlee prompted.

I unzipped my backpack, double-checked the name on the bag, tossed it in, and slammed the door shut. It had been less than ten seconds. My heart beat madly as Kimberlee hurried toward the next locker and pure adrenaline flowed through my shaky limbs.