Life After Theft
Page 58

That part was actually Kimberlee’s idea. She said it was like a billboard and that some student late for school was bound to see it.
Khail and I jumped back in and hurried away from Hennigan’s house. He pulled over behind the school and let me out so he could go ditch the truck, driving off almost before I could close the door. Hennigan would probably get suspicious when Khail missed his first class, but Khail assured me he could handle it.
I wished I shared his confidence. If I got him busted, Sera would never forgive me.
Either way, I had to get my ass to class before I got caught too. I was only about seven minutes late, but if I slid into my seat more than ten minutes late, it would count as an absence.
And then they would call my mother, which was almost scarier than expulsion after the promise I’d made that I would stay out of trouble. After which, of course, I broke into the school.
“Jeff, wait!” Kimberlee called, but I didn’t have time to stop and knew she could catch up.
I almost ran into Mr. Hennigan before I saw him. The one time I really should have listened to Kimberlee.
“In a hurry, are we?” Mr. Hennigan said pointedly.
I put on my best I-am-an-idiot voice and pointed at my watch. “Late,” I said.
Mr. Hennigan circled me like a vulture. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the alleged returning of stolen items today, would it?”
“Huh?” I said, trying to look confused. “Oh, the lost stuff. Yeah, no. If I was missing anything, it would still be in Phoenix. I just moved here.” Smooth, suave, and totally stupid-sounding. Perfect.
Hennigan looked over the edge of his glasses and studied me. “Oh, yes. Mr. . . . Mr. Clayson, is it?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Frustration passed over Mr. Hennigan’s face, but he only allowed himself a small sigh before he snapped back to attention. “On your way, then,” he said dismissively. “You’ve got one minute to get to class before you’re marked absent.”
I took off the second his eyes left me, walking as quickly as possible, and managed to slip into the door of Mr. Bleekman’s class just as the clock turned to eight forty.
Mr. Bleekman looked up at me and his eyes darted to the clock. With obvious disappointment, he marked a tardy down in his grade book.
Twenty minutes after the bell, a girl named Katie—which, since she lives in Santa Monica, is short for Katerina, not Katherine—burst into class, her face pink.
Mr. Bleekman smiled very slightly and walked over to his grade book. “More than ten minutes late, Miss Chardon; you’ll be counted absent for this class period.”
“Sorry,” Katie said, sounding distracted.
As soon as she sat down I watched her pull a Ziploc bag out of her backpack and—after a quick glance at Bleekman’s back—hand it to the girl across the aisle.
The girl giggled quietly and asked—in a voice so loud half the class could hear—“Where?”
“Hennigan’s!” Katie squealed, drawing a stern look from Mr. Bleekman. But no one was paying attention to him anymore.
“Hennigan’s?” another guy asked. “Like, his house?”
“Yeah. Right in his yard! There’s a big sign and everything. I saw it on the way to school. That’s why I was so late,” she added in a whisper. As if we couldn’t all figure that out.
In the front row a girl’s hand shot into the air.
Bleekman ignored her.
“Mr. Bleekman,” she said, refusing to be put off so easily.
Bleekman sighed. “Yes, Miss Sanderson?”
“I gotta go. Like, to the bathroom,” she added.
He glared at her for a long time, but no teacher in his right mind tells a girl she can’t go to the bathroom. Finally he sighed and motioned to his desk. “Take the pass.”
She positively bounced to the desk for the pass and almost ran out the door.
“I’m next when she gets back,” a low, threatening voice said.
I knew who the voice was before I turned, but it surprised me so much I had to look anyway.
Langdon.
Unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t find anything there. Langdon was one of the only students I knew of who Kimberlee had never stolen from. I guess friendship meant something to her.
By the time lunch rolled around, the school was buzzing and full of stickered bags, half the kids were tardy to my third-hour class, and Mr. Hennigan was storming around the halls in a rage.
But we were done.
Kimberlee popped up beside me. “There are six bags left,” she said nervously. “What if no one takes them? What if they’re absent today?”
“Don’t worry,” I whispered, while pretending to arrange books in my locker. “Even if they’re gone, one of their friends will take them. I guarantee.”
She nodded reluctantly. “I guess you’re right. I’m going back, though, just to be sure.”
I watched her speed off and chuckled as I shook my head. I grabbed my backpack and headed toward the lunchroom to meet Sera. I hadn’t seen her since Friday. Which meant that I hadn’t actually spoken to her since Khail admitted she was involved in a friend’s death.
I had to admit, I was nervous. I didn’t want to think badly of Sera—it really wasn’t her fault—but was I actually a big enough person to just let it go? I figured seeing her face-to-face was the only way to know for sure.
I was about to turn the corner when I heard Mr. Hennigan call her name. “Miss Hewitt,” he said, his voice stern, but also a little raw. I suspected he’d been yelling at kids all day. Not that there was anything he could do about the legions of bags entering the school. Nothing in them was a banned item, and he couldn’t suspend anyone unless he could prove they were involved.