Life After Theft
Page 38
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“This is amazing,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.
“Khail’s such a show-off.” But she sounded pleased.
Sera was standing off to the side of the crowd, observing everything with her arms crossed over her chest. I walked over to her and slid my arm around her waist.
She didn’t react—just stared straight ahead. I wondered if I should pull my arms back. But finally I leaned down a little closer to her ear and whispered, “Everything okay?”
She looked up as though just noticing I was there. “Yeah,” she said, turning her head back to the crowd. “I just . . . I mean, really. What is this?”
I managed to shrug casually.
“I’d bet money this is more stuff that Kimberlee stole. And here everyone is all excited. Why aren’t they mad? They should be totally pissed. This is . . . this is just sick.” She pulled away with an apologetic frown, headed for the exit. “I’m gonna get some air. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I turned back to the tree. It didn’t look quite so festive anymore.
It took almost the entire half hour allotted for the assembly to get the student body away from the tree and up on the bleachers where they belonged. Mr. Hennigan was breathless and flushed after ten minutes of trying to sweep the kids away from the tree. But it was useless. He’d yell at five or six kids on one side and get them to leave, only to have them replaced by five more kids on the other side.
Once order was restored, we were treated to a long lecture on appropriate behavior and following rules and the proper use of school facilities. “I know who’s doing this,” Hennigan said in a soft, barely controlled voice. I shivered, wondering if that could possibly be true. “It’s clearly the same person or persons who were involved in the theft ring last year.”
A small murmur went through the crowd. But all I could feel was relief. Hennigan had no clue.
“When I catch whoever the guilty persons are,” he said—and I was a little shocked at how angry he looked, “there will be suspensions. Expulsions. And prosecutions! This,” he said, flinging his arm in the direction of the tree, “involved truancy from class and breaking and entering school property. To say nothing of pilfering these items to begin with.”
Fear churned in my stomach. Khail had warned me that Hennigan had been obsessed with the thief, but I had apparently underestimated him.
“Do not think this will be treated lightly just because of these ridiculous apology notes,” he continued, holding up a torn sticker. “Whoever this student or students are, you will be caught, and you will be punished.” He stepped away from the microphone and the room was silent save for the crinkling of a hundred bags.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride as the cheerleaders finally ran in—officially beginning the very late assembly—and there wasn’t a single bag left under the tree.
Eighteen
I WENT TO MY FIRST wrestling meet that night. I wanted to support Khail and the guys after what they’d done. I mean, what they had accomplished on one day would have taken me months to do on my own.
And Sera was there cheering.
Kind of. They all sat on the edge of the mat in their uniforms and yelled and waved pom-poms. I guess I’d appreciate it if I were a wrestler.
I certainly appreciated it as a spectator.
The actual wrestling, perhaps not as much. Watching Khail wrestle made me remember that I was mortal. Seriously. He wasn’t being offered wrestling scholarships right and left for nothing. I always knew he was huge and ripped, but you don’t quite understand the meaning of ripped until you see someone in those little wrestling outfits. Layers of muscles, masses of muscles, muscles with muscles, and only one tiny leotard thingy to cover it all up. I think Khail’s opponent must have contemplated his own mortality as well, in the twenty-four seconds it took Khail to twist him into something a contortionist might squeal at before his shoulders hit the mat.
I had visions of myself down on the floor if anything in our little scheme went sour. Talk about terrifying.
After the match Sera ran up to hug me, said something about her ridiculous outfit, then hurried off to change before I could comment that there was no need. Oh well, maybe another time.
I was just leaning against the wall when I heard someone whisper my name, and before I could turn, Khail yanked my arm and pulled me around the corner into the darkened hallway.
“If you wanted some time alone, all you had to do was ask,” I joked, rubbing my shoulder.
He just looked at me.
“Uh, good . . . wrestle,” I said awkwardly.
“Hardly,” Khail said with a snort. “The guy’s a freshman. Only got to be on varsity because the guy I was supposed to match with didn’t make weight. I hate it when that happens.”
“Um, yeah. That sucks.” I had no idea what he was talking about. “Anyway, man, that Christmas tree was awesome.”
Khail broke into a grin. “It was, wasn’t it? It was Stevens’s idea to do the streamers and shit and, I gotta tell you, I wasn’t convinced it would look right. But it totally did!”
“It did; it was awesome.”
“So what’s next?”
“What do you mean next?”
“The next return,” Khail said with a grin. “We’re all ready!”
My throat went dry. “What’s the hurry?”
“I want this done!” Khail said. He took a deep breath. “Also, we’ve only got two weeks till State. Then wrestling season is over. You’d be surprised how much freedom we have to wander around the school in-season. A teacher stops me and I just hold up my bag and say, ‘Coach wanted me to . . . whatever.’ They totally buy it. But after wrestling, we go back to being like everyone else. We have enough time to do a drop this week and a drop next week. Early the week after if we have to, but that’s pushing it.”
“Khail’s such a show-off.” But she sounded pleased.
Sera was standing off to the side of the crowd, observing everything with her arms crossed over her chest. I walked over to her and slid my arm around her waist.
She didn’t react—just stared straight ahead. I wondered if I should pull my arms back. But finally I leaned down a little closer to her ear and whispered, “Everything okay?”
She looked up as though just noticing I was there. “Yeah,” she said, turning her head back to the crowd. “I just . . . I mean, really. What is this?”
I managed to shrug casually.
“I’d bet money this is more stuff that Kimberlee stole. And here everyone is all excited. Why aren’t they mad? They should be totally pissed. This is . . . this is just sick.” She pulled away with an apologetic frown, headed for the exit. “I’m gonna get some air. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I turned back to the tree. It didn’t look quite so festive anymore.
It took almost the entire half hour allotted for the assembly to get the student body away from the tree and up on the bleachers where they belonged. Mr. Hennigan was breathless and flushed after ten minutes of trying to sweep the kids away from the tree. But it was useless. He’d yell at five or six kids on one side and get them to leave, only to have them replaced by five more kids on the other side.
Once order was restored, we were treated to a long lecture on appropriate behavior and following rules and the proper use of school facilities. “I know who’s doing this,” Hennigan said in a soft, barely controlled voice. I shivered, wondering if that could possibly be true. “It’s clearly the same person or persons who were involved in the theft ring last year.”
A small murmur went through the crowd. But all I could feel was relief. Hennigan had no clue.
“When I catch whoever the guilty persons are,” he said—and I was a little shocked at how angry he looked, “there will be suspensions. Expulsions. And prosecutions! This,” he said, flinging his arm in the direction of the tree, “involved truancy from class and breaking and entering school property. To say nothing of pilfering these items to begin with.”
Fear churned in my stomach. Khail had warned me that Hennigan had been obsessed with the thief, but I had apparently underestimated him.
“Do not think this will be treated lightly just because of these ridiculous apology notes,” he continued, holding up a torn sticker. “Whoever this student or students are, you will be caught, and you will be punished.” He stepped away from the microphone and the room was silent save for the crinkling of a hundred bags.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride as the cheerleaders finally ran in—officially beginning the very late assembly—and there wasn’t a single bag left under the tree.
Eighteen
I WENT TO MY FIRST wrestling meet that night. I wanted to support Khail and the guys after what they’d done. I mean, what they had accomplished on one day would have taken me months to do on my own.
And Sera was there cheering.
Kind of. They all sat on the edge of the mat in their uniforms and yelled and waved pom-poms. I guess I’d appreciate it if I were a wrestler.
I certainly appreciated it as a spectator.
The actual wrestling, perhaps not as much. Watching Khail wrestle made me remember that I was mortal. Seriously. He wasn’t being offered wrestling scholarships right and left for nothing. I always knew he was huge and ripped, but you don’t quite understand the meaning of ripped until you see someone in those little wrestling outfits. Layers of muscles, masses of muscles, muscles with muscles, and only one tiny leotard thingy to cover it all up. I think Khail’s opponent must have contemplated his own mortality as well, in the twenty-four seconds it took Khail to twist him into something a contortionist might squeal at before his shoulders hit the mat.
I had visions of myself down on the floor if anything in our little scheme went sour. Talk about terrifying.
After the match Sera ran up to hug me, said something about her ridiculous outfit, then hurried off to change before I could comment that there was no need. Oh well, maybe another time.
I was just leaning against the wall when I heard someone whisper my name, and before I could turn, Khail yanked my arm and pulled me around the corner into the darkened hallway.
“If you wanted some time alone, all you had to do was ask,” I joked, rubbing my shoulder.
He just looked at me.
“Uh, good . . . wrestle,” I said awkwardly.
“Hardly,” Khail said with a snort. “The guy’s a freshman. Only got to be on varsity because the guy I was supposed to match with didn’t make weight. I hate it when that happens.”
“Um, yeah. That sucks.” I had no idea what he was talking about. “Anyway, man, that Christmas tree was awesome.”
Khail broke into a grin. “It was, wasn’t it? It was Stevens’s idea to do the streamers and shit and, I gotta tell you, I wasn’t convinced it would look right. But it totally did!”
“It did; it was awesome.”
“So what’s next?”
“What do you mean next?”
“The next return,” Khail said with a grin. “We’re all ready!”
My throat went dry. “What’s the hurry?”
“I want this done!” Khail said. He took a deep breath. “Also, we’ve only got two weeks till State. Then wrestling season is over. You’d be surprised how much freedom we have to wander around the school in-season. A teacher stops me and I just hold up my bag and say, ‘Coach wanted me to . . . whatever.’ They totally buy it. But after wrestling, we go back to being like everyone else. We have enough time to do a drop this week and a drop next week. Early the week after if we have to, but that’s pushing it.”
