Confessions of a Kleptomaniac

  I pick at my fingernails. “Then why’d you just tell me?”

  “I don’t know . . . maybe because you’re not on the team, and you’re not a guy, so I know you won’t ask stupid questions, like if Coach’s wife is hot.”

  I get his point, but still, it’s not like we’re even close to being friends, which brings up the huge question: why are we here?

  “You said you wanted to talk to me about something, and I’m guessing it’s not about how hot your coach’s wife is.”

  “Yeah.” He massages the back of his neck tensely. “I wanted to talk to you more about that tutoring thing. I just didn’t want to do it in front of your friends . . . They’re kind of intimidating.”

  “My friends are intimidating?” I almost laugh. “Your friends are the ones who are always making fun of people.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he says in a panic. “I just meant that they really care about you. And I knew that whatever I said to you in front of them would be analyzed later and that can be . . .”

  “Intimidating,” I finish for him.

  He bobs his head up and down, stepping closer to me, and I have to tip my chin up to look at him.

  “Any outsider who approaches you guys when you’re all together probably feels a little freaked out.” A lopsided smile tugs at his lips, and I stare at his mouth a few seconds too long.

  “People think that about you, too. You can be really intimidating to walk up and talk to, especially when you’re around your friends. Trust me, I know.” I want to smack myself in the head for subtly mentioning the tenth grade dance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry.” He cracks his knuckles, averting his gaze to the ground as he mutters, “I get where you’re coming from. Back then . . . I was kind of an asshole.”

  A beat of awkward silence goes by.

  I clear my throat. “You said you wanted to talk about the tutoring thing.”

  A relieved breath puffs from his lips. “I just wanted to find out where you wanted to meet up and when.”

  “The only place I’m allowed to go to other than my house is the library, and I’d rather not meet up at my house,” I tell him. When his forehead creases, I add, “Trust me, you don’t want to go there, either.”

  “Okay.” He waits for me to embellish, but I’m not about to give him the details about my insane home life. “So I guess it’s the library, then.”

  “Sounds good to me. You want to meet around four?”

  He scratches at the back of his neck. “I actually have practice after school. Maybe around six?”

  “Sure. That works.” As long as my mom isn’t on one of her lock-me-in-my-room-after-dinner kicks.

  “Okay, it’s a date, then.” One side of his mouth pulls into that sexy half grin I’ve seen him use on a ton of girls over the years.

  I smile back, but I’m totally confused. Date? Why did he call this a date?

  He didn’t mean it literally. He has a girlfriend, for God’s sake. Jesus, Luna, get a grip.

  “Thanks for doing this,” he adds. “Seriously, it’s really awesome of you. Most people aren’t that nice.”

  I’m not that nice!

  I force a tight smile. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, Beck would freak if I didn’t help you, and then you didn’t end up playing in Friday’s game. He hates losing.”

  “I think everyone does when you really think about it . . . except you. I can’t really see you being like that.”

  “Tell that to Wynter. She won’t even play board games with me anymore.”

  “Really? So, you’re a sore loser, huh?” He pokes me in the side teasingly, and I flinch from the sudden unexpectedness of the touch.

  “Um, yeah.” I struggle to remember what we are talking about as I grow flustered. Board games. Sore losers. “I once threw all the cards out her bedroom window when we were playing Texas Hold’em, and I lost, like, ten hands in a row. Then there was the whole Candyland fiasco.”

  “What happened with that?” he asks, seeming strangely intrigued with my board game dark side.

  “I broke the heads off of all the pieces.” I try not to smile, even though it’s kind of funny now. “But keep in mind that I was only eight, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. Whenever I played games at home, I played by myself and, therefore, always won.”

  He struggles not to laugh. “Wow . . . that’s . . .”

  “Ridiculous?” I offer. “Insane? Neurotic?”

  His grin slips through. “I was actually going to say funny.”

  “I’m glad you think so because Wynter didn’t. That’s pretty much when she stopped playing board games with me. She gave me a chance a few years later with the card games, but that ended quickly. I haven’t played since, and none of my other friends will, either.”

  He chuckles. “They sound like wimps if you ask me. So what if you broke a few game pieces and threw some cards out the window?” He pokes me in the side teasingly again, and this time, instead of flinching, my stomach does a kick flip. “I’d play with you.”

  “I don’t know.” My voice comes out surprisingly even, despite the fact that my nerves are jostled. “You say that now, but I think you’d change your mind once you witnessed the nastiness in all its temper-tantrum form.”

  He drums his fingers against the side of his legs with his forehead creased. “I’ll tell you what. How about, at the end of every tutoring session, we play a game of cards? My bet is that you’ll be okay.”

  “You want to play cards with me after I help you study?” I question with doubt.

  “You say that like it’s weird.”

  “It is weird . . . And it kind of seems like you’d think playing cards with me is . . . lame.”

  “I love playing cards. I used to play them all the time with my dad.” His face pales at the mention of his dad.

  I feel horrible that we got on the topic of parents, especially his dad. From what I’ve heard around school, his dad passed away a few months ago, at the beginning of the summer. I’m not sure how, though.

  “But yeah, anyway.” Grey clears his throat as he glances down at his watch. “I have to meet up with someone. Can you give me your number, just in case something happens, and I can’t make it tonight?”

  I nod and rattle off my number, and he strangely writes it down on his hand with a pen.

  When he notes me staring confusedly at the ink on his palm, he explains, “Some friends of mine thought it’d be funny to play catch with my phone, but then one of them accidentally threw it against the wall.” He shoves the pen into his back pocket. “See you later tonight.” He steps by me to leave, but then stops. “You’re okay with getting to the library, right? Because I can come pick you up if you need me to. I know how super pricey gas can be.”

  I catch the faintest hint of pity in his tone. I should confess right then and there that I’m not poor, that I have my parents’ nearly brand new car to drive to the library, but instead, I only mumble, “I’m good, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, let Beck know. He knows how to get ahold of me. And be prepared to play a game of cards with me.” He stands there for a moment longer before he hurries off toward the front of the school.

  Why would Beck know how to get ahold of him? The two of them have never been close or anything, and now Beck’s suddenly the one who knows how to get ahold of him and is giving him envelopes before class?

  By the time I make it back to my friends, Willow and Wynter have taken off, and Ari is collecting his things to head inside the school. Beck, however, is still sprawled across the grass, looking as though he has every intention of staying where he is forever.

  “Beck, can I talk to you for a sec?” I ask as I pick up my bag and the half eaten bag of crackers off the grass.

  He sits up, stretching out his arms. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “See you guys later,” Ari says as he gathers the last of his
books. “And, Lu, give me a shout later. I think I might have a solution to your tracking problem.”

  “Already?” I ask and he nods. “Thanks, Ari. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Probably be stalked by your mom a lot more.” He glances at the school as the bell echoes through the air. “I should get to class, but text me around seven or eight.”

  I wave good-bye to him before he turns on his heels and gets swept up in the crowd as he rushes for the entrance doors.

  “Man, your mom’s doing that crazy tracking thing again?” Beck gripes as he reaches for his backpack propped against a nearby tree. “What was it about this time?”

  “My new choice in clothes,” I say with a sigh.

  “She really has control issues, doesn’t she?”

  I swallow down the lump in my throat. So do I, Beck. So do I. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  He yawns. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” He holds up his hands in front of him, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “No, wait, let me guess. You want to start dating me so you can bring a bad boy home and drive your mother crazy.”

  “I thought Willow said you were a good boy.” I tease. “Or is that just when you’re around her?”

  “I’m whoever I need be at the given moment,” he quips, flashing me his pearly whites. “And right now, I think you need a bad boy.”

  “Speaking of bad boys, what was up with that envelope you gave Grey this morning? There wasn’t . . .”—I look around at all the people nearby then scoot closer to him and lower my voice—“drugs in there, were there?”

  “Luna, you’ve known me forever. Do really think I’d deal drugs in school?”

  “I really don’t want to think you’d deal drugs at all, but Beck, I’ve seen you give people stuff.”

  “I never charge for stuff, though, so it’s technically not dealing. I just share with those who want to partake,” he says with a devious grin. “And to answer your question about Grey, no, there weren’t drugs in that envelope, but that’s all I can tell you.”

  “How come?”

  “Because it’s not my thing to tell.” Beck squints against the sunlight as he studies me. “What I really want to know is why you two are suddenly spending time together. I thought you hated him.”

  “Hate’s a strong word. I don’t think I’ve ever hated him.” And, if I’m honest with myself, I still have a crush on him after all these years, even after what he did to me. “I’ve just never talked to him because of that dance thing.”

  He reaches up to pat my arm. “It’s okay not to like everyone, especially when they treat you badly.”

  “I know. But, at the same time, I don’t think I should not like Grey unless you know of a reason I shouldn’t like him or shouldn’t be hanging out with him.” It’s a lame attempt at getting him to confess what was in the envelope. I don’t even know why I care so much. Maybe it’s because Grey knows stuff about me. Or maybe it’s because I’m turning into a nosey person.

  “Sorry, but I’m not going to tell you what was in that envelope.” He stands up, picking up his backpack from the ground. “But I will tell you that you should probably be careful around Grey. He’s an okay guy and everything, but you’re too good for him, for anyone if you ask me.”

  “I’m just tutoring him,” I remind him as we start toward the school. “And you’re the one who got me into that mess.

  “Yeah, I really shouldn’t talk to people when I’m high. I become this weird, all about the love kind of guy,” he says with an innocent shrug. “But I think you’ll be all right. Just don’t date him or anything, especially when he never apologized for what he did to you.”

  “Trust me, this isn’t a date. We’re meeting at the library, and he has a girlfriend.”

  “Oh, you can have a date at the library. I once dated this girl whose mom would only let her go to the library when she was with me because she thought we couldn’t do anything but study there. We did a lot of naughty things in the aisle where the encyclopedias are. There was this one time—”

  I throw my hands over my ears. “I never, ever want to hear about your sex life, Beck. Ever.”

  Beck laughs but drops the subject.

  We make the rest of the walk to school chatting about the party he’s having this weekend and how I need to find a way to get there no matter what because he needs me to DJ for him.

  “Beck, I’m not a DJ,” I say. “I don’t know why you keep saying that.”

  “I know you’re not technically a DJ, but you’re really good at putting mixes together and running the stereo.” He winks at me. “No one else can rock it like you.”

  “I’ll try to make it, but I can’t make any promises.” I’m already on thin ice as it is.

  Still, I find myself feeling depressed that I probably won’t be able to go. Again, I’ll be the one missing out on all the fun. Even with the tracking app off my phone, my parents will never allow me out of the house that late at night, which leaves sneaking out as the only option.

  Maybe I deserve things to be this way, though, for all the lies I’ve told lately and for all the stealing I’ve done. Maybe I deserve worse.

  As we reach the entrance of the school, Beck holds the door open.

  “Why thank you, sir.” I laugh as I step into the hallway.

  My phone suddenly vibrates from inside my pocket, and I fish it out.

  Mom: You are to come straight home after school.

  Sighing, I type a reply.

  Me: I was already planning on it.

  Mom: I know, but sometimes you dilly-dally around with those friends of yours. You better walk through the front door within 15 minutes after school gets out and not a minute later. I know how long it takes to make the drive home. I even clocked it myself today just to make sure.

  I shake my head. She really is insane.

  Me: Okay, I get it. I’ll be there at 3:45.

  Mom: I’m serious about this, Luna. You, me, and your father have a lot of talking to do about what I found in your floorboard this morning.

  I almost drop the phone. They found my secret hiding place. Oh. My. God. I feel sick. All the things I’ve hidden in there, things I can’t explain how I got, things I’m not supposed to have, like makeup and nail polish and a pair of lacy panties that I’ve never worn, but she’s going to think I did.

  “No, God. No, no, no.”

  “What’s wrong?” Beckett asks from right behind me.

  “I . . . um . . .” I’m too speechless to form words.

  Another text buzzes through.

  Mom: You’re lucky I didn’t come pick you up from school already, but I don’t want you to get behind on your schoolwork. Just know that there will be severe punishments, young lady. I’m not going to let you fall into the darkness. You won’t become that girl.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” Beck lowers his head to level our gazes. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

  “I think I am.” I fold my arm around my stomach. “I-I have to get to class.” I run down the hallway before he presses me for answers, wishing I could keep running forever without looking back.

  I wish never had to go home.

  “It sucks Coach isn’t letting you practice with us,” Logan says as I collect my books from the locker. “By the time you get your grades up, you’re going to be useless.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I slam my locker shut then rest my shoulder against it. “You don’t have to be an asshole about everything. You do get that, right?”

  He grins arrogantly. “That’s exactly what I’m supposed to do since we run this damn school.”

  “Wow, what a fucking accomplishment.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “You know there’s like, maybe a hundred people who go to our school, right? That’s nothing.”

  Logan doesn’t bother to move out of the way as a girl tries to squeeze around him to get to her locker. “God, you’ve been such a little bitch lately. What the hell is wrong with you? Is Piper not p
utting out or what?”

  I push him out of the way, not very gently, to help the girl out, and he stumbles back, his shoes scuffing against the linoleum floor. The girl offers me a tense but grateful smile then quickly spins the combo to her locker.

  Logan gives me a dirty look as he regains his footing. “Screw you, Grey. You think you’re better than you are.” He backs down the hallway, sneering. “Oh, yeah, and have fun with your little tutoring thing while all the rest of us who aren’t stupid enough to get put on academic probation work our asses off to hold up the team. I’m sure you’ll have a blast trying to learn shit from Luna Harvey.” He says her name like there’s something funny about it, probably because in tenth grade, he told everyone how she asked me out, and I rudely turned her down because I was a dick back then.

  She was shier than she is now, and she wore clothes that covered up every inch of her body. The outfits were always weird, too. Like this one time, she wore a baggy sweater with bright yellow bears on it and a pair of baggy, tan pants that looked big enough to fit a guy. I want to say it didn’t matter to me, but I was a jerk back then. I cared way too much about what people like Logan thought of me. I didn’t understand that not everyone had enough money to buy whatever they wanted, including nice clothes. Now I understand more than I want to.

  I understand a lot of things now, like when I saw Luna stealing stuff at Benny’s store. All those horrible outfits she used to wear were probably because she couldn’t afford anything nicer. She does dress better now, but I’ve seen her friends giving her clothes during school. It’s why I took her jacket. I didn’t want her getting into trouble like I did.

  I stuff my books in the bag then back down the hallway in the opposite direction as Logan, calling out, “Well, at least I won’t be wasting my time hanging around at the meet up for the millionth time, getting trashed and waiting around for something exciting to happen that never does.”

  He flips me the middle finger. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell that to Piper and Jane when I’m there tonight. Guess I’ll just have to entertain them both since your dumbass isn’t going to be there.” He thrusts his hips a few times before spinning around and heading off toward the gym.