Life After Theft
Page 70
“No,” I said. “I don’t have a plan. I . . . I thought I did for a minute, but . . .” I shrugged and then my hands flopped helplessly at my sides. “It’s not going to work.”
“So you’re seriously going to go over to that school tonight and turn yourself in because it’s ‘the right thing to do’?”
It did sound irrational the way she said it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did anything else. I nodded.
Kimberlee looked at me with a mixture of sadness and pity on her face. Then she straightened up and her mask came back. “You’re crazy,” she said bitterly. “And stupid. I’ve never met anyone as stupid as you.”
Then she turned and left, sliding through the wall and out of sight.
Thirty-Two
TERRIFIED IS THE LEAST OF what I was when I turned into the parking lot at six that night. I could see three cars against the curb near the front entrance and wondered who Hennigan had called for backup.
I pulled right up close and stalled for a few seconds, taking in the scene. Hennigan stood stiffly in front of the main entrance, eyeing my car, but I knew he couldn’t see me through the tinted windows. He started to take a step forward, then stopped, pressed his lips together, and apparently decided to wait for me to make the first move.
Coward.
Beside him, looking a little embarrassed, was our assistant principal, Mrs. Bailey. I knew what she’d gotten back: a homemade frame made by her young son with a family picture inside. I’d be embarrassed to be there if I were her, too.
I did, however, almost laugh at the irony when I saw that the third member of the party—almost certainly summoned against his will—was Coach Creed. I knew from a brief discussion with Khail yesterday that the whole team would be leaving very early the next morning for State. I had no doubt Mr. Hennigan had blackmailed their coach into being here as “the muscle” by threatening his two-time state champion with expulsion if I got away, the same way he’d put pressure on Sera. Coach Creed’s arms were flexed across his chest and, despite the fact that Kimberlee had never stolen anything from Creed, I would bet that given the choice he’d rather strangle Hennigan than me.
I shifted into park and Mr. Hennigan got a very strange mixture of excitement and fear on his face as the engine died. I had just unlatched my seat belt and reached for the door handle when light flashed across my eyes. Another car was pulling into the parking lot.
I couldn’t help but feel nauseous when I saw the row of lights across the top of the black-and-white cruiser as the cop parked just behind Hennigan’s car and stepped out.
I hoped I was doing the right thing.
There was nothing more I could do now. I slid out of my seat, stood, and swung my car door shut.
Hennigan blinked several times. “Mr. Clayson, what are you doing here?”
I reached into the pocket of my hoodie and grabbed what was left of the stickers. I tossed them down in front of me and then added the master key, which tinkled almost melodically. “I said I’d be here, and here I am.”
For a long, tense moment, nobody moved or spoke.
“But . . . but . . .” Hennigan sputtered, “you just moved here.” I could almost see him reviewing our interaction from Monday morning in his head—knowing he’d had the culprit in his grasp. “How could you have stolen everything?”
“I didn’t,” I said, my voice much steadier than my legs. But this would be my only chance to have my say and I was going to. “It was never about stealing. It was about giving things back. You were so focused on what you were sure I’d done wrong you didn’t stop to see what I was trying to do right.”
I knew my words wouldn’t convince Hennigan, but I saw Mrs. Bailey and Coach Creed nodding. The cop didn’t move from his spot beside his cruiser. He was so still I wondered if he was even breathing.
Hennigan’s face was turning red as he realized his plan to catch a notorious thief was crumbling to dust in front of the cop, in front of his employees. But I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily. He wiped the shock off his face and pointed a finger at me. “It doesn’t matter. Your list of infractions is still plenty long. Destruction of school property, breaking into lockers, trespassing at my home!” he said, as if the personal offense was the greatest one of all. “If you really are this Red Rose Returner person”—he said the name like it was a bad word—“then you’re guilty of all those.”
I nodded. “And I take full responsibility.”
Hennigan smiled as if he had caught me in some elaborate trap instead of asking a very straightforward question. “There!” he said, calling out to the police officer now. “He admitted it. Arrest him!”
The cop began to walk toward me. His eyes met mine for a second and then I turned, giving him my hands before he could ask. My breath was short as the cuffs clicked shut. In a matter of moments I’d been read my rights and the cop had set me in the back of his car and slammed the door.
It was over.
What the hell had I just done?
The cop went and talked with the adults for a few minutes, then got into the cruiser and closed his door.
“Officer—”
“Not here for small talk,” he said, cutting off my words and flipping on the radio.
It was a surprisingly short drive to the police station. The cop pulled up to a well-lit side door and I got my first good look at him. He was tall and blond, and even though most of his bulk was the kind you get from cheeseburgers, I suspected he could rough me up without any trouble. Pleasant thoughts. His badge said BURKE. Jerk was more like it.
“So you’re seriously going to go over to that school tonight and turn yourself in because it’s ‘the right thing to do’?”
It did sound irrational the way she said it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did anything else. I nodded.
Kimberlee looked at me with a mixture of sadness and pity on her face. Then she straightened up and her mask came back. “You’re crazy,” she said bitterly. “And stupid. I’ve never met anyone as stupid as you.”
Then she turned and left, sliding through the wall and out of sight.
Thirty-Two
TERRIFIED IS THE LEAST OF what I was when I turned into the parking lot at six that night. I could see three cars against the curb near the front entrance and wondered who Hennigan had called for backup.
I pulled right up close and stalled for a few seconds, taking in the scene. Hennigan stood stiffly in front of the main entrance, eyeing my car, but I knew he couldn’t see me through the tinted windows. He started to take a step forward, then stopped, pressed his lips together, and apparently decided to wait for me to make the first move.
Coward.
Beside him, looking a little embarrassed, was our assistant principal, Mrs. Bailey. I knew what she’d gotten back: a homemade frame made by her young son with a family picture inside. I’d be embarrassed to be there if I were her, too.
I did, however, almost laugh at the irony when I saw that the third member of the party—almost certainly summoned against his will—was Coach Creed. I knew from a brief discussion with Khail yesterday that the whole team would be leaving very early the next morning for State. I had no doubt Mr. Hennigan had blackmailed their coach into being here as “the muscle” by threatening his two-time state champion with expulsion if I got away, the same way he’d put pressure on Sera. Coach Creed’s arms were flexed across his chest and, despite the fact that Kimberlee had never stolen anything from Creed, I would bet that given the choice he’d rather strangle Hennigan than me.
I shifted into park and Mr. Hennigan got a very strange mixture of excitement and fear on his face as the engine died. I had just unlatched my seat belt and reached for the door handle when light flashed across my eyes. Another car was pulling into the parking lot.
I couldn’t help but feel nauseous when I saw the row of lights across the top of the black-and-white cruiser as the cop parked just behind Hennigan’s car and stepped out.
I hoped I was doing the right thing.
There was nothing more I could do now. I slid out of my seat, stood, and swung my car door shut.
Hennigan blinked several times. “Mr. Clayson, what are you doing here?”
I reached into the pocket of my hoodie and grabbed what was left of the stickers. I tossed them down in front of me and then added the master key, which tinkled almost melodically. “I said I’d be here, and here I am.”
For a long, tense moment, nobody moved or spoke.
“But . . . but . . .” Hennigan sputtered, “you just moved here.” I could almost see him reviewing our interaction from Monday morning in his head—knowing he’d had the culprit in his grasp. “How could you have stolen everything?”
“I didn’t,” I said, my voice much steadier than my legs. But this would be my only chance to have my say and I was going to. “It was never about stealing. It was about giving things back. You were so focused on what you were sure I’d done wrong you didn’t stop to see what I was trying to do right.”
I knew my words wouldn’t convince Hennigan, but I saw Mrs. Bailey and Coach Creed nodding. The cop didn’t move from his spot beside his cruiser. He was so still I wondered if he was even breathing.
Hennigan’s face was turning red as he realized his plan to catch a notorious thief was crumbling to dust in front of the cop, in front of his employees. But I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily. He wiped the shock off his face and pointed a finger at me. “It doesn’t matter. Your list of infractions is still plenty long. Destruction of school property, breaking into lockers, trespassing at my home!” he said, as if the personal offense was the greatest one of all. “If you really are this Red Rose Returner person”—he said the name like it was a bad word—“then you’re guilty of all those.”
I nodded. “And I take full responsibility.”
Hennigan smiled as if he had caught me in some elaborate trap instead of asking a very straightforward question. “There!” he said, calling out to the police officer now. “He admitted it. Arrest him!”
The cop began to walk toward me. His eyes met mine for a second and then I turned, giving him my hands before he could ask. My breath was short as the cuffs clicked shut. In a matter of moments I’d been read my rights and the cop had set me in the back of his car and slammed the door.
It was over.
What the hell had I just done?
The cop went and talked with the adults for a few minutes, then got into the cruiser and closed his door.
“Officer—”
“Not here for small talk,” he said, cutting off my words and flipping on the radio.
It was a surprisingly short drive to the police station. The cop pulled up to a well-lit side door and I got my first good look at him. He was tall and blond, and even though most of his bulk was the kind you get from cheeseburgers, I suspected he could rough me up without any trouble. Pleasant thoughts. His badge said BURKE. Jerk was more like it.
