by R. L. Stine
“And think of how much you hate your cousin. Think of all the presents you can’t buy because she wouldn’t give you a job. Think of how rich she is and how poor you are.”
“No!” Pam cried suddenly and jumped to her feet.
Both boys were startled and jumped.
“No,” Pam repeated. “I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t rob my own uncle’s store.” She walked over to the window and peered out past her own reflection in the dark glass. A storm of wet sleet had started. “I’d be too afraid anyway,” she added.
“Okay, okay. That’s cool,” Clay said, raising both hands in a gesture of calm. “You don’t have to be part of the robbery.”
“Good. Because I won’t be,” Pam said emphatically.
“But maybe you could just drive Mickey and me there,” Clay suggested.
Pam realized he had this all worked out. He probably figured Pam would refuse to help, but Pam was the only one who had a car. He needed her.
Pam, suddenly chilled, moved away from the window. “What are you asking me to do, Clay?”
“Just drive the car.” He raked a hand through his brown, slicked-back hair. “Just drive us there. And wait for us. The trunk on that old Pontiac of yours is big enough to hold an elephant. We’ll stash the stuff in there, then bring it to my house.”
“You want me to drive the getaway car?” Pam cried dramatically.
“There won’t be anything to get away from,” Clay reminded her patiently. “No one will be chasing us, remember?”
Pam swallowed hard. “Okay. I’ll do it,” she said.
And then she thought—did I really say that?
Did I really just agree to drive the car for a robbery?
It isn’t really a robbery, she told herself. Besides, if anything goes wrong, Uncle Robert won’t press charges against me.
At least, I don’t think he will.
A knock on the front door startled them all. Pam cried out. Clay nearly toppled off the wooden chair.
“Oh. That’s Foxy,” Pam said, her heart still pounding. “I forgot. I asked him to pick me up here.”
She started for the door, then stopped and turned back to the two boys. “Be quiet about this. I don’t want Foxy to know.”
They both nodded in agreement.
Foxy was a nice guy, and a bit of a straight arrow. He definitely wouldn’t approve of Clay’s plan. Especially since he had just started working at Dalby’s too.
Pam pulled open the door, and Foxy hurried in out of the sleet and raging wind. “What a storm!” he cried, shaking the water off like a dog after a bath.
“Hi, Foxy.” Smiling, Pam led him into the small living room.
“Hey, man—how’s it going?” Clay asked.
Foxy, his dark hair drenched and matted against his head, shrugged his broad shoulders. “You know.”
“How was work?” Pam asked, searching the closet for her winter coat. “Did you see Reva?”
Foxy groaned. “Yeah, I saw her. Let’s talk about something pleasant instead.”
As Foxy took a seat by the window, Pam found her mind wandering back to the robbery plan.
It’s nothing to worry about, she thought.
It’s going to be so easy.
Clay has it all planned so perfectly, what could go wrong?
Chapter 10
KISS, KISS
“You’re so lucky, Pam,” Reva said, wedging the phone receiver between her chin and her shoulder so she could let her newly polished nails dry.
“Huh?” Pam reacted on the other end of the line.
“You get to hang out, take it easy,” Reva continued. “I’m stuck in the stupid store practically every day, for the last two weeks.”
Pam was silent at the other end. Reva chuckled to herself. My cousin is such a wimp, she thought. Why doesn’t Pam ever speak up? Why doesn’t she ever have the nerve to tell me what she’s really thinking?
“I’ve got to get off, Reva,” Pam said. “My dad wants to use the phone.”
“You should get your own line,” Reva said cruelly. “Anyway, my dad wanted me to invite you for Christmas Eve. As usual.”
Reva stifled a yawn. Why does Dad insist on having them over every year? Doesn’t he get tired of pretending we’re all one big happy family?
She chatted a few minutes more with Pam, blowing on her nails, checking her hair in the mirror over her dressing table. Pam seems distant, Reva thought. Maybe she’s decided to give up pretending we have anything in common.
Reva had heard that Pam had been hanging out with Mickey Wakely and Clay Parker, just about the worst kids at Shadyside High.
What was she trying to prove, anyway? Reva wondered. Doesn’t she care about her reputation? Doesn’t Pam even want to pretend that she has a chance to make something of her life?
After all, Reva thought, Pam didn’t have it so bad. Sure, she didn’t have a big house or good clothes. But at least she still had a mother, someone to talk to, someone to share things with.
Tenderly running a finger along her cut lip, Reva said goodbye to her cousin and, glancing at the clock, replaced the phone receiver. Feeling the nearly healed lip gave her a shiver of dread and, for a moment, she considered not going in to work. She was already half an hour late, after all.
But then she thought about Mitch and changed her mind.
Mitch, Mitch—what’s your problem? she thought, feeling exasperated. It was more than two weeks since they’d started their vacation jobs at Dalby’s. Two weeks of dropping Mitch subtle hints—and not-so-subtle hints. Still he hadn’t made a move.
Was he so attached to that drippy Lissa that he was choosing to ignore the fact that Reva was coming on to him? Was he just impossibly shy?
Today’s the day, Reva decided. I’ll make the first move myself.
It’s time for a very direct approach.
And then poor little Lissa can start searching for a new boyfriend, someone as wimpy and washed out as she is.
Reva pulled off the sweater she was wearing and changed into a white cashmere turtleneck. She knew it looked great on her. It really showed off her figure, and the soft white cashmere brought out her blue eyes and dramatic red hair.
After rearranging her curls, she grabbed her bag and started toward the door—and was surprised to see that she’d had an audience.
“Michael—what are you doing here?” she asked her little brother.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he said, gripping the doorknob with both hands and leaning against the door.
“How long were you standing there?” Reva asked sharply. “You know you’re supposed to knock.”
Michael shrugged. “Will you take me to the store today?”
“What?” She tried to push past him into the hallway, but he moved quickly to block the door.
“Take me to the store. Please?”
“Why, Michael?”
“To see Santa Claus.”
Reva suddenly remembered that she had promised to take him to see Santa. It had completely slipped her mind.
She gazed down at him. She could never get over the fact that he looked so much like her. “I can’t today,” she said softly, reaching out and affectionately playing with his curly red hair. “I’m late for work.”
“Will you get fired?” he asked seriously.
Reva laughed. “No. I don’t think Daddy will let them fire me,” she told him.
“So why can’t I come see Santa?” he insisted, still blocking the doorway.
“I’ll take you, Michael,” Reva assured him. “But not today.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“When is soon?”
“Soon.” She took his arm and pulled it aside so she could get by him. Then she hurried down to the front closet to get her coat.
Poor kid, she thought. He misses having a mom more than I do. I think he’s really lonely.
Pulling on her coat, she vowed to spend more time with him. Then she stepped outside into a sunny but cold
morning. The sudden cold made her sore lip throb.
It had to be Hank who did this to me, she thought angrily.
Who else could it have been?
Such a vicious trick.
Starting up the Volvo, she forced it out of her mind. She wanted to concentrate on Mitch.
“This is your day, Mitch,” she said aloud, turning the car around in the circle at the end of the drive and heading down to the street.
He was so good-looking, with those adorable dimples on both cheeks when he smiled and that scratchy, hoarse little-boy voice. She liked his taste in clothes too—polo shirts, cuffed chinos—preppy without being too showy.
“This is your day, Mitch,” she repeated, grinning.
She thought about him all the way to work.
♦ ♦ ♦
She found him at lunchtime in the electronics department stockroom, unloading a crate of CD players. He was wearing a white sweatshirt and chinos.
“Hi,” Reva said, walking up close behind him.
He jumped up, startled by her voice.
She laughed. He blushed.
“Hey—we match!” she exclaimed, pointing to their white sweaters. She deliberately stood very close to him.
“Yeah,” he said, trying to back up. But he was already against the wall shelves. “How’s it going, Reva? I’ve been unloading cartons all morning. We got in an entire truck of CDs and stereos.”
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Reva said, making her voice low and whispery. She opened her eyes wide and stared meaningfully into his, giving him her best smile, lips slightly parted.
“Oh, yeah?” He glanced down at the carton, still half-filled with boxes of CD players. “I have to finish unloading these,” he said uncomfortably.
“It’s lunchtime,” Reva replied. “You can take a break. The boss’s daughter gives you permission.”
He laughed. “Thanks.”
“I said I’ve been thinking about you,” Reva repeated, staring into his eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” he said in his scratchy voice, his words sounding hurried, as if he wanted to get them all out at once. “I think we should talk.”
“I don’t want to talk,” Reva said, leaning forward. “I want to do this.”
She reached out quickly and put her hands behind his head. Then she pulled his face to hers and pressed her lips against his.
He let out a small gurgle of surprise but kissed her back. She held him against her, pressing the back of his head with both hands.
Not a bad kisser, she thought.
Her eyes went up to the security camera. She realized that Hank might be watching this passionate scene.
Good, she thought, moving her lips against Mitch’s, holding his head and moving her fingers through his hair. I hope you get an eyeful, Hank. I hope you enjoy the show.
She lowered her hands to Mitch’s shoulders and kissed him with renewed passion.
Are you watching, Hank? Are you watching it all?
What’s wrong with me? she suddenly thought. Why am I standing here kissing Mitch and thinking about Hank?
She held Mitch tightly, kissing him harder as if that might drive Hank from her mind.
“Whoa!” an angry voice cried from behind them.
Mitch pulled out of her grasp. Reva spun around to see who had the nerve to interrupt them.
“Lissa!” Mitch cried, his eyes wide, his open mouth smeared with Reva’s magenta lipstick.
Chapter 11
FIRST BLOOD
“Oh, hi, Lissa,” Reva said calmly. “What do you want?”
Lissa, her face crimson, her small hands tightened into fists, ignored Reva and stared only at Mitch.
“We’re kind of busy right now,” Reva told Lissa, pushing at her hair, straightening her white sweater. She reached out and wiped some of her lipstick off Mitch’s chin.
Lissa, standing rigidly in the stockroom doorway, continued to stare at Mitch. Angry tears had formed in the corners of her eyes.
“Reva—” Lissa started, talking now through clenched teeth and shifting her attention to Reva. “You can’t just play with people.”
“Who’s playing?” Reva cracked and laughed at her own line.
Mitch opened his mouth to say something to Lissa, but then closed it and lowered his eyes to stare at his shoes.
Lissa cried out, more in disgust than anger, furious that Mitch hadn’t the courage to say anything. Then she turned and fled from the room.
“Lissa—wait!” Mitch finally cried out.
“What a bore. Now, where were we?” Reva asked, turning her sexiest, most devilish smile on him.
But Mitch had pushed past her and taken off after Lissa. “Hey—wait! Lissa—wait!”
“Let her go!” Reva called after him.
Oh, brother, she thought, rolling her eyes. What is his problem?
But she chased after him, into the electronics department with its wall of color TVs, all tuned to Oprah Winfrey, fifty Oprah Winfreys staring at Reva as she grabbed Mitch by the arm and pulled him back.
“Let her go,” Reva instructed him.
“I can’t,” he insisted heatedly, his eyes searching the wide aisle for Lissa. She had disappeared.
“Don’t be a wimp,” Reva said. The Oprah Winfreys grinned at her, speaking silently into a microphone, as if giving a play-by-play of what she and Mitch were doing.
“Hey—let go of me, Reva,” Mitch said angrily.
She opened her eyes wide and pouted in a mock display of having her feelings hurt. “Come on, Mitch,” she urged in her low, sexy voice. “Let’s go back to the stockroom. We can talk about it there.”
Mitch, still searching for Lissa, shook his head no.
Reva turned away from the smiling Oprah Winfreys and saw Hank come around the corner from the freight elevators, heading toward her. Quickly she stepped closer to Mitch and draped her arm affectionately around his shoulder. She nuzzled against Mitch, who was momentarily too startled to react.
Does this make you jealous, Hank? Reva thought as Hank passed by, staring at her but not saying hello.
Does this make you jealous?
I hope so.
“Reva, please,” Mitch said edgily, pulling away from her. “You know, what we were doing—I mean—back there—” He pointed toward the stockroom against the back wall. “Well, it wasn’t right. I mean—”
“What do you mean?” Reva asked softly, patiently.
Mitch took a deep breath and started again. “Lissa and I have been going together a long time. And I just don’t think it was fair to her—”
Reva reached out and rubbed more lipstick off his face. “I like you, Mitch,” she said in her most kittenish voice. “You like me too—don’t you?”
He blushed and swept his hand back through his straight, dark hair.
“You seemed to like me . . . back there,” Reva said, glancing back to the stockroom.
“I just think—well—”
Poor Mitch, Reva thought, amused. He’s totally flustered.
“Oh. Look at the time!” Reva cried suddenly, staring at her watch. “I promised I’d be back at my post ten minutes ago! Ms. Smith will kill me! She’ll probably club me with her shoulder pads!” She rubbed his cheek with the back of her hand. “See you later.”
Then, before Mitch had a chance to respond, she turned and ran, heading for the bank of elevators on the other side of the store, leaving him standing still with his mouth agape, just as the fifty Oprahs waved goodbye.
The store was crowded with lunchtime shoppers, office workers mostly, crowding around the costume jewelry counters, a few housewives pushing strollers, shopping bags draped over the handles.
That went better than I thought, Reva told herself, a pleased smile on her newly lipsticked lips. Having Lissa burst in on us like that was an added treat.
I’ll never forget the horrified look on Mitch’s face, she thought.
What a wimp.
But at least he�
�ll be my wimp soon.
A line of five or six kids, dressed in snowsuits and wool caps, made Reva realize she was passing Santa Land at the front of the Dalby toy department. Sure enough, there was Robb up in Santa’s big, red- and white-candy-striped throne, a scared-looking toddler on his lap.
As Reva passed by, the kid tilted his head back and then exploded a wet sneeze right in Robb’s face.
Reva laughed out loud. What a riot!
Poor Robb will be wiping snot off his face for a week!
Reva was still chuckling when she reached the perfume counter and took her place behind the display shelves. Ms. Smith stepped away from the cash register alcove and approached Reva, glancing angrily at her watch.
“I’m glad you find being late so amusing,” she snapped.
“I wasn’t smiling about that,” Reva replied coldly.
“Well, you’ve made me fifteen minutes late for my luncheon engagement,” Miss Smith accused.
“Terribly sorry,” Reva told her, not sounding the least bit sorry.
“There are customers waiting,” Reva’s supervisor scolded, then grabbed up her bag and started off.
“Have a good lunch,” Reva called with exaggerated sweetness.
Ms. Smith turned back. “There’s a package for you,” she told Reva. “That one there. With the gift wrapping. I don’t know who left it. Open it when all the customers have gone.”
Reva watched Ms. Smith hurry away through the crowded aisle. As soon as she was out of sight, Reva picked up the package and carried it to the cash register alcove, turning her back to the counter so that customers couldn’t disturb her.
The package was square and was neatly wrapped in silver-foil wrapping paper with a red bow taped to the top.
How odd, Reva thought, turning the package over in her hands. Is this an early Christmas present from someone? Who would know to leave it here at the perfume counter? It must be some kind of surprise from Daddy, she decided.
“Miss! Miss?” a woman was calling loudly to Reva.
She ignored the customer and, being careful of her fingernails, tore open the package.
There was a box inside. Reva eagerly tore the top off the box and pulled out a dark, gracefully shaped bottle.
