Life After Theft
Page 50

But everyone was busily whispering about what might have happened, and even Sera was calmly reapplying her lip gloss.
I wanted to stay—to ask Kimberlee where she’d been, to tell her about what we’d done, to apologize for what I’d said.
But I couldn’t now. Today was not the day to act weird.
I managed to make eye contact with Kimberlee for a just a second before being swept out of the gymnasium with the rest of the students. She paused in her ranting. Then she smiled tightly—almost apologetically—and started to bid the completely unaware crowd a lavish good-bye.
Sera’s hand pulled on mine, bringing my attention back to her. “What the hell do you think that was about?”
I tried to look clueless. “I don’t know.”
“Sounds like it’s another hit by whoever is returning all that stuff.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s so lame.”
“Why is it lame? It sounds like they’re doing a good thing.” And, you know, racking up expensive damages.
She shrugged. “I guess so. But after over a year, I think you should just throw everything in the trash and find peace with yourself. This just stirs needless drama up all over again.”
Someone behind us cleared his throat. “Miss Hewitt?” Mr. Hennigan said, his voice carrying through the hallway as only principals’ voices do.
We turned and looked at him together.
“Would you please step into my office?” he said, gesturing.
Sera flipped her hair and—sounding completely chill—said, “Sure. Whatever.” But she turned and whispered in my ear, “Wait for me?” and I could hear the panic she wasn’t showing.
“Of course,” I said automatically. Screw Bleekman. I only had one tardy in his class anyway.
The door closed with a click and I pushed my back against the wall to wait.
Kimberlee walked up and assumed the same position just a few inches away from my shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly.
I glanced up to acknowledge her, but said nothing.
She paused and looked down at the ground for a few seconds before reluctantly meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I—shouldn’t have stayed away. You probably could have used my help.”
I swallowed hard and nodded again.
She looked down again. “You were right,” she finally said. “You’re doing me this huge favor and the least I can do is be grateful—or at least interested—and stay out of your social life. I—I’ll try to do that from now on.”
I thought I’d heard everything from Kimberlee. Yelling, screaming, crying, bad jokes, criticism, whining, shrieking, laughing, but never, ever apologizing.
It was kind of strange. And I didn’t know if I could trust it.
But I wanted to.
I sighed and looked up at her with a small grin, and shrugged. Apology accepted, I guess. What else could I do?
We stood, shoulders almost touching, for a few companionable seconds. “I can’t believe you set off the fire alarm.”
“It was an accident,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth. “Shortie broke something. There must have been chemicals in it.”
“Well, whatever it was melted a hole right through the linoleum. The lab’s a huge, soggy mess.”
Great. Just great.
After another stretch of silence Kimberlee turned to me. “Do you want me to . . . you know?” she asked, pointing her thumb toward the principal’s office. I was trying to decide just how much of a breach of privacy it was to send a ghost to spy on your girlfriend, when the door opened and Sera walked out.
“You think long and hard about that,” Mr. Hennigan said firmly.
Sera didn’t answer but her eyes were wide and dark against her pale skin.
I waited a few seconds until Hennigan closed his door again. “Are you okay?” I asked, slipping my hand into hers. It was cold.
She looked up at me and blinked, and in a matter of a second, her face changed. It was still pale and I could see a trace of worry in her eyes, but her smile was steady and the stressed creases on her forehead flattened out. “Yeah, I’m fine. Um, Hennigan was just worried about me getting enough credits to graduate next year. Thought I needed an extra math class, but it was a mistake.” She turned away and started walking down the hall, with me in tow. “Hurry, we’re going to be late.”
My spider senses were tingling. I didn’t want to believe that my girlfriend was lying to me, but I was pretty sure the threat of an extra math class wouldn’t turn her face terrified like that.
I dropped her off at her class, and when she tried to leave I threaded my fingers through hers and pulled her back. I kissed her softly and then looked into her eyes, hoping she’d change her mind and tell me what really happened in there. But she just smiled and finger-waved at me before letting the classroom door close, blocking her from my view.
“Wow,” Kimberlee said in a voice that sounded—for once—more concerned than mocking. “That was not good.”
“No shit.”
Returning stuff to the teachers had worked even better than I’d hoped. Almost all the teachers were in a good mood and had no problem helping to get the piles of bags on their desks to the right students. Several of them displayed their own returned objects on their desks like trophies. In English, Mr. Bleekman actually spent half a class period relating the history of the small sculpture that had been returned to its place on his desk after a two-year absence.