Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I buried my head in my hands. I closed my eyes and relived running away from the security guard for the hundredth time. Only every time, the scene played out in slower motion, each detail glaringly stretched out.
The detail that stuck out the most was being all alone. Whitney had already fled outside to safety. As planned, Mary Jane sat behind the wheel of the getaway car. Neither of them saw the security guard grab my arm. They’d missed me escaping his hold with staggering strength and speed. I’d escaped with no battle wounds—except for a bruise so faint, my friends would never have noticed it unless I pointed it out. But I felt it. It hurt. I rubbed my arm, rocking back and forth, eyes still closed.
I hadn’t mentioned the security guard to Mary Jane or Whitney. Maybe I’d feel better if I did? Perhaps it would give me the sense of solidarity that was missing—to prove that, even though they weren’t there to witness what had happened, they were with me in spirit.
I opened my eyes and reached for the phone. I dialed the Portmans’ number and Mary Jane answered right away. “Oh, Poppy, I’m so glad you called. You’ll never believe this, but after I dropped you off, Whitney asked me to speak at the GOV Club meeting next week.”
Unsure what reaction she was looking for, I went with the pep talk. “You’ll do great. Don’t worry about it.”
“She gave me a lesson plan to use. It’s called ‘Having a Virginal Heart.’ You don’t think she knows, do you?”
“Doubtful. Probably just a coincidence.”
She exhaled. “Well, I’m glad you’ll be coming to the meetings, Poppy. And that’s really cool you got David Hillcrest to join. It’s hard to get guys, you know? Whitney doesn’t like him much, but I don’t think he’s too horrid a person.”
“Yeah, he’s okay.” I smiled, and for a split second, the terrible feeling in my gut went away.
“So what’s up, Poppy? I’m sure you didn’t call me to talk about the GOV Club.”
“I just wanted to tell you and Whitney about . . . something that happened today. Something bad.”
“I thought something was wrong. You were so quiet in the car. Yes, we definitely need to talk. Let’s see, Whitney’s at a church meeting with her family. Something about the revival. Since her dad’s a deacon, and so on and so forth, he’s really involved in it. But I’m coming over. So sit tight, ’kay?”
I said, “Okay,” and then hung up the phone. As I waited, I hoped telling her wouldn’t be a mistake.
Mary Jane arrived a lot sooner than I expected, and I was flopped out on my bed listening to Paramore instead of waiting in the living room like a good hostess. Then again, I didn’t want to risk Mom seeing me like this and wanting to talk.
A silk scarf was draped loosely around Mary Jane’s neck and her diamond cross charm peeked out from between the folds. She hugged me, then held me at arm’s length and examined my face with soft, concerned eyes. “What’s wrong, hon? Tell me.” She sat down beside me.
I reached to turn down my stereo, then changed my mind. Background noise was a good thing, in case Mom happened to walk by.
“Are you afraid of getting caught?” I asked. Mary Jane had a blank look on her face, so I elaborated. “I mean, in all of your shoplifting adventures, have you ever been close to getting caught?”
“What happened, Poppy?”
“Well, I had a bit of a run-in with a security guard.”
Her eyes widened and her jaw increasingly dropped as I told her the story. “Oh my gosh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. That must’ve been so scary for you.” She laid her hand on my knee and shook her head. “I feel horrible.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have told her. I didn’t want her to feel bad or guilty or sorry for me. It was my idea to do it bank-robber-style. Everything we’d done up until now, we’d gotten off scot-free. “We’ll just have to be more careful from now on,” I said. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. Don’t worry about it.”
Mary Jane sat straight up. “So tell me, what did it feel like?”
“What do you mean?”
“What did it feel like to have that security guard holding your arm? Not knowing whether you’d get away?”
“Well, it made me realize we’re not invincible. I guess up until now, I never really thought that much about, you know . . . getting caught.”
“But you didn’t get caught, Poppy.”
I felt a smile emerging, a triumphant smile. “I suddenly had this amazing strength. It was like one second I was totally freaking out, and the next second I turned into Wonder Woman or something.”
Mary Jane got this wistful look in her eyes and sighed. “I love Wonder Woman.”
“I was kind of joking about that part, but I have to admit it was cool to break free from that guy. I mean, he wasn’t a peewee by any means. And to outrun him and another saleswoman . . . and make it out to the car . . . ”
I took a second to explore these new emotions, this new way of looking at what had happened. How could I explain it to Mary Jane, though, if I couldn’t explain it to myself?
I heard the tapping of Mom’s shoes in the hallway and turned up the volume on my stereo.
“You know the feeling you get from, well, doing what we do?” I said, reverting to code and lowering my voice.
Mary Jane nodded eagerly.
“It’s like that, only a hundred times more intense.”
Her eyes all but popped out and bounced onto my bed.
Mom knocked and said, “Poppy, I’m turning in.” She opened the door and poked her head into my room. “You girls have school tomorrow, so don’t stay up too late.”
“’Night, Mom.”
Mary Jane said, “Goodnight, Emily. Don’t worry. I’ll be heading home in a few minutes.”
Once the coast cleared, Mary Jane squeezed my hand. “You’re still in, right?”
Shoplifting gave me a new lease on life. It offered a mini vacation away from my day-to-day redundancy, frustrations, and loneliness. How could I give all of that up, just because I had a little bit of a scare?
I nodded. “I’m in.”
“Good.” She smiled her dazzling smile. “Because the Midnight Madness sale is coming up at Hamilton’s and it’s perfect. Totally crowded, harried employees, merchandise spilling over everywhere. Whitney and I were thinking we’d go for something really expensive this time.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“There’s this gold bangle watch. It has a diamond on it and it’s—oh my gosh!—incredible.”
“Sounds cool.”
Hours had passed since I’d watched Mary Jane’s headlights bounce around my bedroom walls. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep. I rolled over and checked the clock. Sixteen past midnight.
I swung my legs to the side of the bed and padded down the hall to Mom’s room, where a light shone beneath her door. She lay in her bed, reading a novel by lamplight. I liked seeing her like this: in her billowy nightgown, her hair flowing in waves past her shoulders, her peaches-and-cream complexion makeup- free. It was so different from her serious-career-woman look.
“Poppy? Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Just can’t sleep. Seems like I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in forever.”
“Do you want me to tuck you in, for old time’s sake?”
I laughed. “Okay, sure.”
“Did you see the note by the phone? A lady named Marissa Vanderbilt-Strokes called to see if you could babysit. She also said something about hosting a Mary Kay party?”
I hadn’t seen it. “Thanks.”
“And a boy called.”
I almost gasped out loud.
“I think he said his name was . . . Gabe.”
I nodded and smiled, trying not to look as disappointed as I felt.
“And a boy named David.” She raised her eyebrows and I gave a little laugh.
“Well, I’ll just talk to them at school.”
In my room, Mom fluffed my pillow while I crawled und
er the sheets in my bed. Then she stood and walked to my niche. She seemed to be looking at the lilac bush outside my window, but her gaze was soft and glazed, and I could tell she was somewhere far away. “When you were about four years old, you couldn’t sleep because you kept hearing scary noises. You were convinced a monster lived outside your window. So I lay in bed with you, and guess what?”
“You heard the scary noises too.”
“That’s right. So I let you sleep in my room that night, and the very next morning we went out and bought ourselves a critter trap. When I told you the trap worked, you thought for sure a hideous monster would be in it.”
“But it was just a baby raccoon,” I said, the image clear in my mind’s eye. “It stared at me with wild beady eyes. I begged you to let it go. And you did.” I smiled, and I saw that Mom was smiling too.
“I got a raise today,” she said. “Not much, but definitely enough to do a little celebrating.”
“That’s great, Mom. So what do you have in mind?”
“Well, you seem to be into shopping lately. How about a good old-fashioned mother-daughter shopping spree? I have a staff meeting tomorrow evening, but how does Wednesday sound? I can pick you up from school and we can head to that mall you’re always talking about.”
“Okay, sounds fun.” It wouldn’t be nearly as fun as the “shopping” I’d been doing lately, though. As I shifted under my sheets, attempting to get comfy, it occurred to me that it had been ages since I’d gone shopping and not lifted something.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Wassup, Poppy.” Andrew Foremaster set his tray down and took a seat on the table in front of me. The table tottered with the sudden onslaught of his weight. Ellen and a few others were already there, but they were speaking German. Neither Whitney nor Mary Jane had arrived for lunch yet.
“Hey,” I said. It was a generic, uninspired exchange of greetings, but I couldn’t help wondering what that foreign look in his pale puppy-dog eyes meant. Was Mary Jane’s boyfriend leering at me?
“Gabe’s real excited to be going to the dance with you next weekend.”
I smiled. “Yeah, it’ll be good fun.” Or not.
“Do you like him?”
I recharged my smile, fervently wishing Mary Jane would get there already. “Sure, he’s a nice guy, I suppose . . .”
“That’s what I thought.” Andrew ran his fingers through his spiky blond hair and inclined his torso toward me. “Gabe has the wild notion that you have it bad for some other dude.”
Huh? Who did Gabe think I liked? Then, as if reading my thoughts, Andrew raised his cleft chin. Clearly, Andrew was under the impression that he was the mysterious Other Dude. Yeah, right! Gabe didn’t think I was some kind of skank who’d go for her best friend’s boyfriend, did he?
“Hmm, very interesting,” I said, leaning back and taking a huge bite of my sandwich so I wouldn’t have to talk for a while. I looked over at Ellen, but she had her nose in her German-English dictionary.
“You see, Mary Jane and me . . . well, let’s just say it isn’t what it used to be.” I didn’t exactly feel like having this conversation with Andrew. I never thought I’d actually prefer talking about the Dallas Cowboys or lacrosse or . . . I don’t know, jock straps. “Nothing against her. She’s real pretty and all. But it’s just that—”
I spotted Bridgette walking to her table, thank God. “Oh, hi, Bridgette,” I said, my mouth totally full of turkey and provolone. Bridgette stopped midstride, and her fork fell to the floor. “Here, have mine,” I said, handing her the plastic fork I’d brought for my peaches.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” I tapped into my small-talk reserves, trying to make her stick around, at least until Mary Jane or Whitney showed up. I knew what Andrew was getting at, and I did not want to tread on such a volatile path with my best friend’s love interest.
“Bridgette, Poppy and I were having a bit of a private conversation. Would you mind runnin’ along so we can finish?” Andrew said, and I groaned internally.
Bridgette’s nostrils flared, and I swore I detected a gleam in her hazel eyes. “Not at all.” She took a few steps, but instead of sitting at the choir kids’ table, she sat at a table just behind ours.
“Let’s see. Where was I?” He traced a circle on the table with his fingertip, his emerald varsity ring reflecting rays of light like a laser gun. “Oh, yeah. So I’m no two-timer or anything, but I reckon in the near future, I’ll break up with Mary Jane and that’ll leave you and me. Together. If you know what I mean. How would you like that?” He smiled broadly and puffed out his chest, like he expected me to jump into his arms or something. As if.
I figured Bridgette was listening in, and I wondered what was going through her mind. Surely she didn’t think I’d done or said something to turn Andrew on to me. Though it was difficult, I swallowed the mouthful of sandwich I’d been chewing and took another bite.
Where the hell were Mary Jane and Whitney? Had they ditched their third period Wednesday classes for a road trip to Dallas or something?
“I should wait until after Sadie’s to break it off with Mary Jane,” Andrew continued, “since you’ll be with my boy Gabe and I’ll be with Mary Jane.”
“Now, did I hear my name?” Mary Jane asked, gliding gracefully up to her boyfriend. I felt a mixture of nervousness and relief.
Andrew’s face turned red and he clenched his hand into a fist. “We were just talkin’ about the dance this weekend. Right, Poppy?”
I nodded, thankful I’d been stuffing my mouth with lunch. Whitney put her tray down and wiggled in next to me.
“I see.” Mary Jane flashed me her movie-star smile. “And you were saying . . . ?”
“How much I love you,” he said, his face still flushed.
“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Mary Jane said in her baby voice, and then she kissed him on his cheek. I pitied her. She had unwittingly given her heart, her virginity, and her future to a total asshole. A total asshole who made a gallant effort not to make eye contact with me the rest of the lunch period.
I tossed my garbage and wandered out of the cafeteria. Bridgette sidled up to me and said, “Mary Jane won’t be happy when she finds out Andrew’s already drafted a second-string girlfriend.”
“He’s pretty good at that maneuver, huh?” I said softly.
Bridgette stopped under the fan and her posture stiffened. Strands of her reddish hair whipped across her cheeks, yet she made no move to sweep them away. “Yes, I guess he is.”
“I’ve got to tell Mary Jane,” I said, mostly to myself.
Bridgette’s jaw dropped open. “Are you crazy? She’s going to hate you!”
It would break her heart, that much was true. But Mary Jane already wasted two years on Andrew, and I didn’t want her to waste another minute believing he was the man of her dreams, completely and undeniably devoted to her.
Mary Jane headed right for us, her tiered skirt flapping around her tanned legs. “Excuse me,” I said to Bridgette, “but Mary Jane and I need to have a little tête-à-tête.” I grabbed Mary Jane’s arm, leaving Bridgette in the dust, and led her through the school and into a semiprivate alcove by the janitor’s closet.
“What’s up, Poppy?”
“I have something to tell you. It’s about Andrew.”
She twirled her hair, a hopelessly-in-love expression on her beautiful face. “Did you see how suh-weet he was acting in the caf? Between us, I think I’m starting to win him over on the Born Again Virgin idea. I’m thinking we’ll make our commitments to each other after the dance.” She giggled. “Get it? Like how lots of couples actually do it after prom or whatever, and we’ll be not doing it?”
She had no idea he planned to discard her like he’d done to Bridgette two years ago. As her friend, I felt duty-bound to blow the whistle on his scheme. “What if he was faking all that lovey-dovey stuff? What if he actually wants to break up with you, maybe right after the dance?”
She twirled
her hair faster. “Well, that’s just ridiculous. Poppy, what do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s just this . . . feeling I have.”
Her blue eyes widened and I thought I saw a glimmer of pity in them. “You’re not a romantic, are you? You think all this talk about soul mates and getting married is silly.”
“Okay, well, maybe I do. You’re sixteen, and you have your whole life ahead of you. I just hate to see you wasting it on some loser—”
Mary Jane planted her hands on her hips. “Andrew is not a loser, Poppy. He’s nothing like your weirdo ex, Spence. He’s very popular. He’s nice. He’s good to me. Even my parents love him. Poppy, Andrew is a good guy.”
Sighing, I shook my head. Beating around the bush had clearly failed. “Mary Jane, you need to know something about Andrew.”
“What is it?”
“He’s planning on dumping you . . . and replacing you . . . with someone else.”
“What?” She laughed, but her eyes appeared vacant. “Who?”
“Well, that doesn’t really matter, does it?” I nibbled the inside of my cheek and stared at my grungy black boots. She still watched me, unblinking. I took a deep breath. “Me.”
“You’re telling me my boyfriend wants to dump me, and for you?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“So you probably want me to dump him.” The bristly tone in her voice sent a shiver up my spine. I knew I had to do some serious damage control, and fast.
“Well, I think it would serve him right if you dumped him before he had the chance to dump you. But I’m not interested in Andrew, Mary Jane. I like . . . I like someone else.” I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone to someone else. But when Andrew said Gabe thought I “had it bad for some other dude,” there was a split second when I wondered if he’d somehow picked up on the fact that I, well, “had it bad for” David. And that split second was an exciting one—one that filled me with endorphins and possibilities. Maybe having it out in the open wouldn’t be such a horrible thing after all. Perhaps I should just go for it. I squeezed Mary Jane’s hand and whispered, “David.”
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