Life After Theft

Another ten minutes of small talk flowed around me. It wasn’t that they talked about things that weren’t interesting—local indie concerts, who was hooking up or breaking up, which teachers were the lamest—it’s just that I didn’t know enough about anything to join in.

When there was a lull, I worked up the nerve to turn to Sera and ask, “So, you heard about the party this weekend?”

She looked over at me, but said nothing.

“Harrison Hill?” I added nervously, hoping Kimberlee—not to mention Langdon and his friends—hadn’t fed me a total line about it being the place to be.

“Yeeeeaaaah,” she said, drawing out the word. “I did hear something about that.”

“I was kinda thinking maybe I’d see you there.”

“I don’t do keggers,” she said, her smile tightening. “Not my thing.”

“You’re not going?” I did not have a backup plan for that.

“Sera doesn’t do the partying scene,” Wilson piped in “helpfully.”

“How come?” I asked.

Sera shrugged. “I’m in the middle of competition season for cheer. The last thing I need is to get wasted on the weekends.”

“You don’t have to drink.” You could, say, make out with me instead. But I had a feeling it wasn’t in my best interest to say that out loud.

“Trust me, the parties are only fun if you’re drunk,” she said.

I laughed but she didn’t look amused.

“I’m going,” Brynley said, looking up at me.

“Me too,” Hampton added.

I pulled out one more piece of ammunition. “I’m going with Langdon,” I said, hoping he actually was as cool as Kimberlee made him sound.

“Langdon?” Sera said, though not in quite the same tone of voice I had said it.

“And Neil,” I added, not so confident in my invite anymore.

She looked like she wanted to say something, and then changed her mind and took a bite instead. “Maybe I should drop by,” she said after swallowing.

“Nice job, bro,” Wilson said softly, nudging my shoulder. “She hasn’t gone to one of these things since freshman year.” He whispered freshman year like it was a secret. As though being a freshman was some kind of embarrassing option.

The guys around me chuckled nervously, but I was lost.

After a few seconds Sera smiled awkwardly and grabbed the edges of her tray. “I better—”

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend?” I asked, totally cutting her off. Yes, I am a desperate loser.

Everyone at the table fell silent.

“Do you have news for us?” the other Jewel said, leaning forward on her elbows with her eyes glinting.

“No,” Sera said flatly.

No?

No!

“What about that Mikhail guy?” I hedged.

Sera raised an eyebrow and looked at me in confusion. “Khail?”

“Yeah, the, uh . . . wrestler?” Everyone was looking at me now, and I wanted to disappear—melt right through the floor like Kimberlee could. Then, almost as one, they started laughing. Not social, polite laughing; serious you-got-Punk’d laughing.

And I had no clue why.

I must have started to look pitiful because Sera finally let me off the hook. “Khail’s my brother. We’re very close. But not that close,” she added sarcastically.

My candle of hope instantly relit. No, “candle” is far too tame; this was a torch, a bonfire, a shock-and-awe explosion of hope.

Kimberlee was dead meat.

(#ulink_d16e8ff4-15f3-5b4c-bba4-0b5fb11bc2a5)

KIMBERLEE DIDN’T SHOW UP AGAIN until after school, when she fell into step with me in the hallway—as if nothing had happened. “Are we going now?”

“You are in so much trouble,” I said quietly.

“What are you talking about?” she asked at full volume. I think she enjoyed being able to talk loud when I couldn’t.

I burst through the front doors into the crisp January air. A little chilly, but mostly a perfect, sunny day. Like pretty much every day in Santa Monica. I stayed silent until I let myself into my car and Kimberlee slid into the passenger seat.

“Open the top,” Kimberlee said. “It’s, like, sacrilege to keep the top up on a day like this.”

“Not till I’m finished,” I said.

“What’s your problem?”

“Sera and Mikhail?”

“What about them?”

She had so much nerve. “Sera and Mikhail Hewitt. I’ll give you a hint. They’re not married.”

She at least had the courtesy to look slightly abashed. Very slightly. “So?”

I glared at her.

“Okay, fine, I should have told you. Big deal.”