Pretty Crooked (20 page)

But whatever they were laughing about, it was so entertaining that neither of them was making a move.
Morgan was leaning in, her auburn hair tucked behind her ear. She gestured with her hands, making some bulbous shape in the air. I imagined it had to do with another girl’s butt.

All right, wenches. I can outwait you
.

I pretended to read myself, watching them in glimpses. Besides the anorexics and the hardest of the hard-core students, the library was pretty empty during lunchtime. Even the librarians had pulled away from their front desk to the office behind it, where they were eating sandwiches.

Sandwiches. My stomach grumbled. It was Vietnamese day in the dining hall and they were serving the noodle soup I loved. If there was one thing I loved about Prep, it was the food. But there wasn’t time for eating today.
Note to self: Next time pack lunch when planning midday surveillance
.

And the way things were going, it seemed like I wasn’t going to get my shot at Morgan’s stuff today. In which case I was going to have to hold out at least a week because I couldn’t risk it again tomorrow.

It wasn’t the worst thing, I told myself. Justice had no deadline. Morgan was still going to be spoiled and horrible tomorrow. And Alicia would still be happy to get something on her doorstep.
But the party
—if she was going to go to that party, she needed something sooner.

No, I couldn’t give up yet. I was so close now. I could
almost feel an ache in my limbs. I was practically craving it.

Caitlin reached into her pocketbook for a piece of gum and slid one across the table to Morgan.

No, ladies. A stick of Orbit does not have enough nutritional value to sustain you through a school day
.

Then the harp rang. I had to get to trig within ten minutes or I was going to be marked late, and there was a quiz. Never mind that I was dabbling in crime—I still had a scholarly reputation to maintain. Morgan and Caitlin would probably be leaving soon, too.
Oh well
, I thought.
You win some and you waste some lunch periods
.

But then, a break.

They both got up to go to the front desk. I heard the ding of the bell as they called the librarians forth from their office caves. Were they actually returning books? I peeked around the carrel wall to see that both their table and the jacket were left unattended.

My body prickled with energy and fear, the anticipation of a risk about to be taken.
Now
.

I picked up my notebook and sauntered toward their table like I was heading for the door. My heart lurched. I briefly glanced over my shoulder in their direction. They were still talking to the librarian, and Caitlin was handing her an ID card.

Morgan’s jacket was finally within my grasp. I dropped my hand. The leather was smooth and butter soft—it felt like the cows had been worked over by a
hundred massage therapists. Beyond that was the satiny interior of the pocket. My fingers quickly found and closed around the square plastic casing of the auto-lock fob. I snatched it up and kept walking on out of the library, like it was my job.

Which, in a way, it was.

Alicia was going to that party; there was no question now.

I’d planned Morgan’s jacking for this particular day because my last class was a free period. I circled around the rows of cars. There were several BMWs in the lot, but only one had that particular constellation of loot on the front seat and only one had a Swarovski-crystal-studded license-plate holder that said
PRINCESS
. I looked around again to make sure no one was watching, and clicked the Unlock button. The lights flashed twice and I heard the door release.

I opened the passenger-side door and went straight for the scarf and sunglasses. Tom Ford, very nice.

And what’s this
?

In the beverage holder was a pair of diamond stud earrings. I snatched those up and slipped them into my pocket.

I briefly considered grabbing the iPod and some of the loose money in the passenger-side door, but I didn’t want to be too greedy. Morgan had kindly provided me with more than enough already, hadn’t she? I shut the
door, stuffing the scarf and sunglasses into my backpack.

Woo-hoo. Somebody needs to be taping this, because this is some graceful thievery right here
.

I walked around the driver’s side and bent down to set the key on the ground next to the door. After discussing it with Tre, I’d settled on this strategy, which seemed a hell of a lot easier than trying to return a key to someone’s pocket without them noticing. This way, it would look like she had dropped it herself, and she—or someone else—would find it eventually.

“Hey!” someone yelled.

I turned around and a teacher I recognized from the science department was behind me.

I swallowed hard, wishing desperately that I could push down the terror that had flared up inside me like acid.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He had longish hair pulled behind his ears. He was wearing large glasses and his eyes looked buggy and bloodshot behind the lenses.

Think fast.... Now smile. Good
. “I was walking by here and I happened to see this key on the ground. I’m not sure who it belongs to, but I thought I should pick it up.”

His face, which had been pinched into teacherly suspicion, relaxed a bit. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“I have a free period,” I said. “And actually I wasn’t feeling that well so I thought I’d come outside for a little bit of air.”

“I see. Well, maybe you should visit the infirmary. In the meantime, I’ll take that for you. Somebody will definitely be looking for it.”

In a way, I reminded myself, I could’ve been grateful that he was finishing the job for me, returning the key to Morgan. I handed it over and walked back toward the school building.

I would go to the infirmary to escape suspicion. It was true in any case that I didn’t feel well. My head was spinning, my chest tight. My body was giving me away. Maybe the nurse could give me something. But what I really needed was
Yoga Breathing for Kleptos
.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LESS THAN A week had gone by when I found myself hanging out in the parking lot again. Only this time it was a Wednesday morning, and I was meeting Cherise. We were running late for homeroom, so that by now most of the morning bustle had died down, leaving just us, the luxury cars, and VP’s version of derelicts, which were shorthaired lacrosse players with slightly negative attitudes. Compared to my other schools, this place was seriously lacking in the degenerate department. It occurred to me, with some satisfaction, that I was probably setting a new standard for VP shade.

Cherise was leaning against the bike rack, her bag slung over one shoulder, and her car keys in the other hand. She was jiggling them impatiently. “Any day now,” she said. “We don’t want to miss the character lecture. What is it this week, persistence?”

“Integrity,” I said, looking up from my crouch.

“Whatevs. Not like we need help in that department.” She handed me a piece of gum without me asking. A true friend, if you ask me. “Are you going to Nikki’s today?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, sliding the cable around the down tube and winding it through the wheel rim.

“I feel like you’ve been MIA lately. You haven’t come shopping with us in a while.”

I stiffened. For weeks I’d been maintaining the guise that I was still part of the Glitterati without actually spending much time with them. I had been worried these sorts of questions would start popping up. Now Cherise was looking at me intently and I knew I owed her an explanation. “I’ve been busy with stuff. It’s nothing against you, at all…”

“I know,” she said, but by the look in her eye I could tell that she was still taking it personally. “But I miss having you around.”

“I’ll come by today,” I promised. I stood up and rearranged my striped boatneck, which had gotten twisted from the crouching, and popped the piece of gum in my mouth.

As much as I wanted to avoid hanging out with the Glitterati, I didn’t want to avoid Cherise or offend her in any way. She was my best friend at VP and I wanted to keep it that way. If that meant a little time at Nikki’s house, then so be it.

As we crossed the courtyard we saw Alicia Gomez sitting on the wall, high heels clicking together. Our
eyes traveled up in synchronized wonder. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a sexy Proenza Schouler wrap top that accentuated her curvy figure, care of
moi
. Two guys from our homeroom were sitting on either side of her, clinging to her every word, bug-eyed and entranced. Even Cassidy Greene, who was standing nearby with one of her peppy, high-achieving friends, seemed to be staring.

Cherise gave me a sidelong grin. “Looks like the fashion bug is catching. Kellie’s not going to like this.”

“No,” I said, trying to suppress my giggles. “She’s really not going to like it at all.”

“Excuse me, ladies.” A voice boomed behind us, followed by a boxy-shaped man in a navy-blue police uniform. He brushed past us into the building. “PD coming through.”

I stopped in my tracks and clutched at the straps of my backpack, making an
x
in front of my chest with my arms.

Oh my God. Police. What do I do?

“What’s that all about?” Cherise asked, her eyes lighting up. Her paperback brain was probably already trying to solve a mystery.

My pulse was doing loop-de-loops, but I shrugged like I had no idea. I was pretty sure they were here for me, whether or not they knew it yet.

But maybe I was wrong. Maybe Aidan had finally pulled that big-time stunt of his. But if he had, wouldn’t
the entire school population be talking about it already? Word traveled fast around here, especially because everyone had a smartphone practically glued to their hand. I had to calm down. I had to think. I had to stop acting like a freak.

Cherise was still waiting for me, holding the door open.

I couldn’t just walk in the building, not right now. I had to figure out a strategy. Or at least get myself together.

“Hey, Cherise,” I said. “I just realized I need to ask Cassidy something about French.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “Now? We’re already late.”

“I know, but it’s kind of important. You can go on ahead.” I smiled, and simultaneously prayed that she was buying it. “Meet you inside?”

“Fine,” she said a little huffily.

At any other time, that would’ve bugged me, but I had bigger issues to worry about right now.

There were many other things I would’ve preferred to be doing after school, like trying to figure out exactly what the police were doing in the halls of VP that day, but I’d promised Cherise I would go to Nikki’s, and I liked to follow through on my promises. It was also a pretty good cover—as in, why would I hang out with the girls I was stealing from? Why, indeed?

So there I was in what I had come to consider enemy territory, Nikki’s Mediterranean villa with its vaulted ceilings, oriental rugs, and cheesy gilt-framed artwork that probably cost millions. We were camped out in the TV room on her body-swallowing leather couches facing a wall of four flat-screen televisions, which were tuned to
Family Guy
, a fashion show, MTV, and an Ashton Kutcher movie, respectively.

“This show is so juvenile,” Kellie said, aiming the remote toward the
Family Guy
screen. “The fart jokes are, like, funny the first three times, but then it gets old.”

She scrolled past the local news on channel eight. A reporter in a shiny blouse with a neat scoop of bangs stood in front of a parking lot.

“That’s our school!” Cherise gasped. “Wait. Go back.”

Kellie changed the channel back and turned up the volume.

“Authorities here at Valley Prep say they still have no leads in the recent rash of robberies, the total of which has reached five and includes pickpocketing, locker ransacking, and car break-ins. But today, new information has them reeling.”

“That’s right. We saw the cops today, didn’t we, Willz?” Cherise said as she nudged me in the shoulder.

Yes we did
. My palms were sweating uncontrollably.

“Finally,” Nikki said. “I only reported that I was robbed three weeks ago.”

The soda I had been drinking threatened to heave out of my stomach. So she knew after all. This was worse than enemy territory now. I was in the belly of the beast! Coming here had definitely been a bad idea.

I quickly glanced at the other girls but they were riveted to the TV.

The reporter turned to Mr. Page, who’d materialized next to her in his usual argyle vest, wearing a face of official concern. She thrust a microphone at him.

“One student has come forward to tell us that they’ve been receiving anonymous packages on their doorstep, with expensive clothes and accessories. The packages included an unsigned note that said ‘a gift for you.’ We definitely think there’s a connection,” he said.

So one of the girls getting my packages
had also
told. I felt like a piano had dropped on me.

This was insane. This was devastating.

This was game over.

Even if they didn’t know it was me yet, I had to stop doing this thing—it had gotten out of hand now, and I was going to have to quit while I was ahead.

That is, if I was even ahead. The police could know more than they were saying. I could be a dead girl walking. Maybe I was even under surveillance right now....

I scanned the room. Nothing looked especially suspicious, but how was I supposed to know? They didn’t send you a note when they decided to start watching you.

The camera cut to a shot of Cassidy Greene, her blond hair tightly wound in barrettes and her hands clasped together in front of her blazer. She appeared extremely excited to be in front of a camera. “I’m kind of disappointed, frankly, that this sort of thing is going on here. This school has a fine reputation, and I hate to see it ruined by the work of hooligans.”