Sneak Thief Page 3

  “And that’s what you call a treasure map?” I asked, holding my paper out so I could see it.

  Desiree held up hers next to mine. It was far prettier than my page, with more pictures and more words, and it was very likeable. But I decided that, as treasure maps went, if I had to choose one, I’d still choose my own.

  “Now you have to put it someplace safe,” Desiree explained. “Then, after a while, take it out and see if your treasures have appeared.”

  * * *

  —

  It was nearly eight p.m. when Becky offered to drive me home.

  Desiree took a ring of keys off a hook in the hall and tossed them to her mama. “I’ll come!” Turning my way, she added, “I want to see where you live!”

  Could there be a bigger catastroke? If Desiree saw ’Bagoville—Lordy, if Becky found out I was from ’Bagoville—I’d be cut off for good and always.

  “I don’t need a ride!” I said, hauling my laundry, and my tail, out the door. “Thanks for supper! Bye!”

  Outside, I raced down the road and ducked between a couple sheds so the Orrs couldn’t find me, even if they had a mind to.

  The moon hadn’t yet risen, but the stars were starting to shine as I wended my way through town and trees. Twice, I caught the flash of a red light on Cheegee Hill.

  I slipped a hand into my jeans pocket, brushed past my carefully folded treasure map, and drew out the rainbow stone Desiree had given me. It was warm from the heat of my body. Shimmering flecks in the rock caught bits of streetlight as I turned it over in my palm. I tried not to think of the things in my jacket pockets, my stealing pockets, which contained all the day’s borrows—including the floss and the book I’d taken from the Orrs, who had been so kind to me. No, I wouldn’t think about that, no matter how much my twisty, rebellious stomach reminded me.

  A dog barked as I turned down the dirt road to ’Bagoville, an angry growling followed by the sprang of canine body hitting chain-link fence. It crossed my mind, right then, that there weren’t no good dogs on my side of town.

  Past the doorless, tireless pickup with its array of peeling bumper stickers, I came to my own RV. It was nearly swallowed in shadow—we didn’t have streetlights at our end of nowhere.

  A cherry ember glowed, and I made out Nina sitting on our front step, smoking a cigarette. As I got closer, I could also make out a fair number of bruises on her arms.

  “Thievin’ kept you out late,” Nina observed.

  I ignored that. “What happened to your arms?”

  She shrugged.

  “Where’d you come by them bruises, Nina?” I didn’t really need to ask. Nina’s latest boyfriend was a hard man who treated people harsh. In times past, I never felt much moved to say something about it. On most days, he ignored me. And it was her life, right? But for some reason, that night, it got under my skin in a way I couldn’t account for.

  “Baron got a little rowdy,” she replied. “What do you care?”

  I dropped the sack of laundry onto the ground between us.

  “I care because—” Why did I care? Because a body is justified in standing up when someone hurts their ma? Because I’d had a taste of kindness at the Orr house that night and, truth to tell, I kind of liked it? Oh, how Nina would cackle at that.

  Finally, I said, “If he hurts you so bad the police have to come out, who knows what trouble we’ll have.”

  “That’s what you have to say for yourself?” She shot up and flung her cigarette into the sparse grass. “A-fearin’ the cops will find your stash, and so what if Baron beats your ma bloody, so long as your ugly ass gets fed? Some daughter you are!”

  I stammered, but no words came out.

  “Tell you what, girlie girl. You’re so concerned for yourself, you can just sleep outside tonight!” Nina swung open the motor home door, stomped in, and locked it behind her.

  I stared after her for a few seconds. Then, all of a sudden—though I can’t say why—the wind flew out of me. My knees fairly buckled, and it was all I could do to get my setter onto one of those steps. I don’t think I passed three trembling breaths before the world turned to black.

  * * *

  —

  In time, darkness turned to sleep. I dreamed there was a woman standing over me. Her name was Nina, though she wasn’t my mother. She was dark-haired, and her dress was red as valentines. The woman leaned forward and kissed my eyelids, and she said, Soon you’ll see something mighty.

  * * *

  —

  The moon was high when the hooting of an owl woke me. It took a few seconds to get my bearings. Finding myself asleep, upright, and leaning against our door was peculiar enough. But I had a strange feeling, too, like something was different. Something big. Then I recalled the upscuddle with Nina and figured that must be what was bothering me.

  “Irksome woman,” I sighed again as I picked the door lock.

  I tripped over a pile of clothes on the way in, caught myself, and nearly tripped over another one. Nina was in back, asleep on the bed.

  I grabbed a screwdriver from the sink drawer and hunkered down to pry the panel off the space where the radio would have gone in a finer RV. Though it was too dark to see clearly, I knew it like the back of my hand, the little nest I’d built inside, one of five stashes I’d stored around the place. This one was my most private one, where only my best borrows went. Inside it, I set the floss and my treasure map.

  Desiree’s stone, and the Orrs’ book, I decided to keep in my pockets.

  I tapped the stash panel back into place with the round end of the screwdriver, and was about to go sock away my measuring spoons and whatnot, when I heard a peculiar sound coming from the bed. It took a second for me to figure out it was Nina.

  She lay on her back, her legs kicking at the sheets. Her breath came hard and fast. All at once, she let out a—well, I hardly know what to call it. A wail, I reckon it was. Like a hurt animal, or one caught in a trap. It wasn’t a human sound, but rather something that came from a lower place where feelings could swallow you.

  I didn’t even think what I was doing. I quick-strode to the bed and climbed in beside her. Reaching out my hand, I found the place where Nina’s heart was beating like it was trying to break free. Soft as I could, I rubbed that spot back and forth, back and forth. I did that for a time.

  Nina didn’t wake as I might have expected, but she quieted down and I thought I had soothed her some.

  Twice, while I rested with her, the world flashed red. The walls, the mirror—everything—blazed scarlet, then quietly fell back to darkness. I didn’t know what to make of it. I do know that I didn’t feel worried. And you’d think I would have, seeing a thing like that.

  I laid there for a while longer, just to be sure she was good and truly quieted. Then I checked my other stashes the way I always did, and started folding down the dining table. The bench chair opened out, and the whole thing turned into a bed. It wasn’t so uncomfortable as you might imagine.

  My blanket had gone missing, but I did find a pillow and tucked it under my head.

  Back on the bed, Nina started snoring.

  It would be a long time before I fell asleep.

  * * *

  —

  Nina’s bed was empty when I woke. That was fine by me, not having to cross paths first thing. I ate a few fistfuls of cereal from the box and chased it with a half-full can of soda I found in the fridge. I was musing on what it might be like to go ask Desiree if she wanted to hang out, when I heard voices outside.

  I swung open the door. There, sitting on the hood of his truck, twirling his cap on his up-pointed finger, was Nina’s boyfriend, Baron. I knew his weaselly face well; he came slinking around often enough. Nina was sitting on the front step again, with a cigarette again. She looked over her shoulder when she heard me behind her.

  “
Nina, could you come in here?” I asked as nice as I could, feeling it was somehow urgent, now, to get the two of us away from that man.

  “No,” she said, and turned her attention back to Baron, who was lecturing on his own manliness.

  “—So’s I took him by the shirt and said, I reckon you’re gonna pay me back—outta your behind! With interest!”

  His knuckles, I noticed, were torn and raw, as if he’d been punishing someone with his fists.

  “Nina!” I tried again, though I wasn’t sure that flimsy door would do much for us if she did come.

  “Hush!” she hissed, waving an angry hand in my direction. “There’s a five in the bowl. Go get those things you was moaning you wanted from the drugstore.”

  Those things I was “moaning” about wanting was toilet paper. Me and my fool priorities.

  “Go!” she shouted.

  I gave up. Let her do what she wanted. Jacket on, money in hand, I swung myself sideways out the door so Nina didn’t have to inconvenience herself by sliding over an inch.

  Feet on the ground and pointed toward town, I heard Baron say, “I know a job just made for a girl like you.”

  I stopped in my tracks. He wasn’t speaking to me. Surely not.

  Just keep walking, said the Voice inside me.

  But I did turn around. He might decide to punish me, if I didn’t.

  Baron looked at me straight on. “Friend of mine runs a retiree scam. He needs a girl to pretend like she’s in trouble, then swindle Pop’s money right out of his fat bank account.” His grin was a slimy ooze. “You know a thing or two about deceiving to thieve, don’t you, Miss Fancy Pants?”

  I wasn’t even a little interested. Old folks were just about the only people who didn’t want something from you.

  I looked at Nina, waiting for her to laugh it off. To tell Baron she wasn’t peddling her daughter out to some greasy hustler. Here’s what she said instead:

  “Your buddy can put her to work today, if he wants.”

  There ain’t no words for what flew into me, right then. It was like a bomb went off in my chest and shards of me flew into my hands and feet. My whole body shook.

  It wasn’t because of Baron, though I knew there could be trouble if I defied him. It was the horrible knowing: I truly was nothing more to Nina than dirt under her heels.

  I tried to take a step and stumbled. My legs might as well have belonged to a corpse.

  Baron fished in his pocket for his phone and said something about calling his friend right now.

  The Voice sounded in my head again now, and it was bell-clear: Get out of here, go!

  Somehow I heeded it.

  It wasn’t me that tore into town that day, but the shell of me, haunted by the feverish ghosts of my ire.

  The clock tower chimed as I stood there on Main Street considering my options. I didn’t have long to decide. In just the time it took to walk from ’Bagoville, the loco had become nigh intolerable.

  The OPEN light flashed on at Beezer’s, the drugstore.

  Decision made.

  I sauntered in, fingering the five-dollar bill in my pocket. Toilet paper was too big to pocket, but that didn’t trouble me none. It was easier to steal when you were actually buying something, anyway.

  I waved to the lady behind the counter. She wished me a good morning and could she help me with anything? I thanked her, but no, I knew where I was headed.

  The paper-goods section afforded me a fine view of the rest of the store. As I made out like I was mulling over one ply or two, I scouted for some promising borrows.

  I scooped up the toilet paper with the baby’s head on it, then made my way, all browserly, to the gifts department. The candles caught my eye, especially the Moon Wax brand, with all its swirly colors and tasty smells. I lingered over them and made a show of smelling a few. Then the store phone rang. Yes!

  Knowing I was on a time clock now, I quick rejected the tiny votive candles as too easy and too cheap. I wanted a challenge. I wanted…one of them long, fancy stick candles. It wouldn’t fit in my outside jacket pocket so good, but it might slide into the inside one fairly well.

  Now I heard the cashier woman say, “Let me look in my computer. Hang on.”

  She wouldn’t get more distracted than that. I picked me a candle and slipped it into my jacket. The lady was still busy typing away on her computer, so I grabbed a second stick for good measure.

  “Okay, Jenny. I’ll put one on hold for you. Bye, now.” The woman hung up the phone.

  I walked to the counter, plunked down my toilet paper and my money, and was back on the street in under sixty seconds. Easy as pie.

  * * *

  —

  The loco wouldn’t let up, though. It had hold of me and it wanted more.

  I tapped my foot on the sidewalk. I chewed my lip. Down the street, I knew, was the greatest five-finger of all: the ladies’ clothes store, Dress Up. I’d peered in its windows many a time but never had the gumption to enter. The goods were too refined, and the owner had beady eyeballs like a hawk’s.

  Today was the day.

  A bell chimed as I entered. A lady standing beside an earbob rack looked up.

  She trained those birdy eyebulbs right on me. “Can I help you?”

  I smiled. “Thinking of a birthday gift for my ma. I’ll just look around.”

  The lady nodded and went back to hanging jewelry.

  As stores go, it wasn’t very large. The dress racks were fairly low, too. Old Eagle Eye would see me no matter where I went. But—no—maybe not. Catty-corner to that jewelry display, with its view blocked by a dummy, was a tableful of scarves, all fluttery and beautiful. One of them would mash into my pocket real good.

  Slowly, so slowly, I made my way in that direction. I looked at a shirt to one side, a pair of pants on the other. I contemplated price tags and size tags and even held up one skirt against a top, pretending to see if they might match. Finally, I found myself before the scarves.

  I reached out my hand—

  I relished the feel of those silky fabrics under my fingertips—

  I chose a color, green—

  —And I shoved that scarf right quick into my jacket.

  Then I turned around—and smashed right into the owner.

  “Empty your pockets, please,” she said.

  * * *

  —

  I stared at a puddle of sunshine around my feet, the light just a-pourin’ in through the police station window. Though I was feeling fairly dazed and more than a little numb, it did seem wrong, somehow, that sunshine. A big rain would have been more fitting, or a cold wind, howling through the streets of town.

  “Your ma’s not answering her phone, Belle,” said a lady whose desk sign read JoBeth Haines, Librarian/Police Dispatcher. Over her head, a banner read WELCOME TO YOUR PUBLIC LIBRARY! “Can you think of somewhere else I can reach her?”

  Sure. She could be running around with Baron Ramey. Good luck finding ’em.

  “I’ll drive by their place. Be right back.” Sheriff Thrasher gave me a warning glance. He looked even sterner without his horse.

  I nodded as if I agreed with something he’d said.

  “All right. Let’s see.” The librarian/dispatcher cleared aside a stack of books and set my borrowed things before her. “We’ve got two candles.” She wrote that down. “Package of toilet paper. One scarf.” She held the scarf up to the light. “Hmm. Pretty. And a book.” Still writing. “A rock. And three dollars and thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two cents.”

  “That rock and the money, can I keep those?” I asked. “They’re mine.”

  “We’ll see,” she replied. “Unless I miss my guess, these candles come from Beezer’s. That right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You steal anything else today?”<
br />
  “No, ma’am.”

  JoBeth considered that. “You steal anything else lately?”

  It was right then, when my brain all by itself started tallying up a list of all the things I’d stolen in the last week, the last month—oh, Lordy—the last year, that my cheeks flashed hot. Shame, like leaden bricks, fell onto me with the memory of every danged borrow. At first they dropped one at a time, and I thought that was bad enough. But when I came to last night, recalling how I couldn’t even get through supper without sneak thieving—when I saw Desiree’s goodly smile in my mind’s eye—that avalanche of shame bricks near demolished me. It took some time to find myself in all that rubble.

  I was chewed up. Maybe it was time to wave the white flag and surrender.

  Looking at that dispatcher straight on, I said, “You got a pen and paper? I’ll write it all down.” And, right there at the Sass PD, I made a list of everything I ever stole.

  JoBeth’s eyes got a little wide when, twenty minutes later, I handed her that page.

  “My. Oh, my,” she said. Then, in a tone I couldn’t quite make out, she added, “That all?”

  “All I can remember.”

  On the desk, the radio squawked. A second later, Sheriff Thrasher’s voice said, “JoBeth, there ain’t no one here. Unless Cantrell can find someone else to vouch for her, go ahead and call juvie in Ardenville.”

  My heart stopped. My throat went dry.

  “Oh no, ma’am! Please don’t send me to juvie!” I knew juvie. My cousin Harlan got sent to juvie and he never was heard from again. And if that wasn’t bad enough, something like six weeks after they took him, they came for his mama, too, and she disappeared like she’d been swallowed. “I swear I’ll—I’ll—”

  The dispatcher held up a quelling hand. “Understood, Sheriff.” Tucking my borrow list into one of the library’s yoga magazines, she turned to me. “Miss Cantrell, I could be wrong, but my guts tell me it’s not too late for you. So, listen. You’ve got one chance here. You need to think of some adult, any adult, who will vouch for you. Can you do that?”