Klepto

by Jenny Pollack

  “Do you play any instruments?” Josh asked.

  “Well, I played the piano when I was younger but I hated practicing, so I stopped.”

  “I play piano a little,” Josh said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I taught myself mostly.”

  “Cool. Where do you practice? Does your mom have a piano?”

  “No, but there’s one at my dad’s in New Jersey. And I sometimes play the ones at school.”

  “I’d love to hear you play sometime,” I said, hoping that didn’t sound stupid.

  The Lincoln Center fountain was surrounded by three famous white buildings: the Metropolitan Opera House, with these huge archlike windows; the New York State Theater, with a balcony around its middle; and Avery Fisher Hall. A few other people were sitting around the fountain or strolling across the plaza, but I noticed it had gotten less noisy.

  “Are you cold?” Josh said.

  “A little bit. But I’m fine. Are you?” I said.

  “A little bit. Let’s walk. How ’bout if I walk you home?”

  “All the way to One Hundred Sixth Street?” It was like forty blocks. I was thinking we should get on the subway.

  “Well, let’s see how far we get,” Josh said.

  We held hands again and started going up Broadway. We got to a block in the Seventies and stopped to look in this bookstore, Shakespeare & Company. We stood there for a second with our noses almost pressed up against the window. Josh’s part of the window kept fogging up whenever he exhaled. I was wondering if his breath smelled as good as it did the last time, but I wasn’t close enough to tell. Then all of a sudden we were kissing again. Right out-side the window of Shakespeare & Company. Josh’s lips were smooth, and he tasted like Chardonnay and pineapple Life Savers. I liked it. Even his stubble felt kind of cool. I noticed the difference from our first kiss—I felt just a tiny bit more relaxed. We stopped for a minute, and Josh rested his arms on my shoulders, playing with the ends of my hair.

  “I just had the urge to do that again. Did I surprise you?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said, slightly catching my breath. “It’s okay, though.”

  “I have to ask you a question,” he said. Oh my God. This was only our second date; could he be about to ask me to the Spring Dance? Don’t jinx it by thinking about it, Julie.

  “What are you doing Saturday night, April twenty-fourth?” Josh smiled. Oh. Shit, I jinxed it. The Spring Dance was in June.

  “Um, I don’t know. That’s, like, a month away. Nothing, I guess.”

  “Do you want to come to a party at my dad’s house in Montclair? It’s Dad and my stepmother Marlene’s anniversary. They have a big party every year. It’s pretty cool, actually, and I can invite whoever I want.”

  “In New Jersey?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Josh said, still smiling, still playing with my hair. I was loving that.

  “Um. How would I get there?” I said.

  “The bus. It’s not a long ride. I can pick you up at the bus station.”

  “It’s at night?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Josh smiled.

  “So . . . how would I get home?” I said.

  “Are you really wondering, when would you get home?”

  “Kind of. I mean, my curfew’s at eleven thirty, and I don’t know how I’d get home by then, coming all the way from New Jersey.”

  “Well, the party usually goes pretty late. But you could sleep over. If you want. In the guest room, of course.” Josh smiled his big smile at me.

  “Sure,” I said, now unable to stop smiling back at him. Did Josh actually just ask me to sleep over at his house? I couldn’t believe it!

  “That . . . sounds . . . cool!” I said. I had no idea how I’d get my mom to agree to that but I’d figure it out later.

  I got home at eleven forty-five, but luckily I saw my mom’s light go off and she didn’t say anything. I knew she had been waiting to hear my key in the door before she could sleep. I changed into my nightshirt, brushed my teeth and washed my face, got in bed, and tried calling Julie again. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me,” I was going to say, “I just have to tell you that Josh invited me for a sleepover!” I mean, how could I go on with life without Julie knowing that?

  Julie’s phone rang and rang again with no answer. I had this quick little fantasy in my mind that maybe she and Mimi and Mandy had moved. No, that was impossible. My clock radio said 12:05. It was March sixteenth, almost three weeks since I told Julie I wasn’t going to steal anymore.

  21

  I’m Only Going to Buy

  At first I really wanted to lie to my parents about staying over at Josh’s dad’s house in New Jersey. I wanted to tell them I was having a sleepover at Julie’s instead.

  But Julie and I still weren’t speaking. We pretty much ignored each other in class, in the girls’ bathroom, or after school on the subway platform. It felt so stupid, but I wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. After all, she was mad at me, so it was her turn to call. I wasn’t going to call her anymore.

  Josh and I had been on two more dates, one to see the movie Casablanca at the Regency, and the other hanging out at Rick DiBiassi’s house drinking wine coolers and watching TV with a bunch of other kids. But Josh and I sat next to each other the whole time and kind of played with each other’s hands. So I counted it as a date.

  The Sunday morning a week before Josh’s parents’ party, Mom was in bed reading the paper—a time when she was usually in a good mood.

  “Mom? I have to ask you something,” I said.

  “Okay. . . .” she said, folding down a corner of her paper and looking at me. I was sitting on the end of her bed near her feet, which were under the covers.

  “This guy Josh—um . . . remember him? Well, Josh invited me to sleep over at his dad’s house in New Jersey. Next Saturday night, April twenty-fourth. It’s his dad and stepmom’s anniversary party.” As soon as I said the word “Josh,” I started smiling. So my mother started smiling.

  “Uh-huh,” she said, crunching the paper in her lap. “How are you going to get to New Jersey?”

  “I’m gonna take the bus and Josh will pick me up. And then I’ll come home the next day,” I said slowly.

  “Mm-hmm . . .”

  “And Mom, his parents will be home the whole time. You can even call his dad.”

  “Leave me the phone number on my table.” She pointed to her vanity.

  By Wednesday, Mom hadn’t called Josh’s dad and it was driving me crazy. Every time I heard her on the phone in the kitchen or her bedroom, I strained my ears to see if I could figure out who she was talking to. But it was always my grandmother or Aunt Marty or somebody else. Not Mr. Heller. So after dinner and Masterpiece Theatre were finally over I said, totally nonchalantly, “So can I stay at Josh’s on Saturday, Mom? Did you ever call Mr. Heller?” I said it like I had just thought of it that minute.

  “What? Who’s Mr. Heller?”

  “Josh’s dad. Mom,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. “Remember? I asked you about going to Josh’s in New Jersey?”

  “Oh yes, yes, I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to think at this time of night, Julie.” God. It was only nine o’clock.

  “So did you call Josh’s dad?”

  “Did you give me the number?”

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, okay, pussy cat, you can go, I just wanted the number so I’d know where you are.”

  Sometimes, I just didn’t understand my mother at all.

  The night before Josh’s party, I knocked on Ellie’s door. I wasn’t really sure why, but I thought maybe I could try talking to her. I felt scared about my sleepover with Josh, and I needed somebody to tell me which nightgown I should pack.

  “Yeah?” Ellie said. She was working on some college application stuff on the typewriter.

  “Can I come in?” I said, peering around the door.

  “Sure,” she said.

  I stepped in and she look
ed up. I didn’t say anything.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “I just wanted to hang out in here. Is that okay?”

  “Okay.” She shrugged and went back to the typewriter.

  “Are you gonna watch Donny and Marie?” I said. When Ellie was in the eighth grade, she saved up $120 and bought a small black-and-white TV that was covered in denim fabric with orange stitching. Dad had taken her to some warehouse in Queens to buy it.

  “Um. I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it.” She slowly plunked at the keys.

  “Can I watch with you?” I said, sitting on her bed.

  “I guess so,” she said, keeping her eyes on her paper. “But it’s not on for a little while, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Then we didn’t say anything again for a minute. Finally Ellie looked up from the typewriter.

  “What’s wrong, Julie? You’re acting weird.” I inched myself farther onto the bed and leaned against the wall.

  “I guess I feel kind of nervous,” I said.

  “How come?” Ellie said.

  “Well, you know I’m going to Josh’s house tomorrow night in New Jersey?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. How was I supposed to know that?” she said, sounding a little huffy.

  “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you heard me telling Mom, and I only just found out that Mom and Dad would even let me go.”

  “Okay, so?”

  “So, I’m nervous. Like, I can’t stop thinking about what nightshirt I should bring.”

  She sighed like I was the biggest pain in the ass. “Well, what does it matter?” she said. Maybe this was a mistake. I had no idea she would be so obnoxious.

  “It totally matters!” I said. “Josh is gonna see me in it! Wouldn’t you care what you were wearing if a boy you liked was gonna see it? God! I thought maybe you’d be understanding, but I guess you’re just not capable of that emotion!” I got off her bed and headed for the door.

  “Julie, wait. I’m sorry.”

  I stopped at her door with my hand on the knob. I was fighting back the tears.

  “Are you crying?” she asked.

  “No!” I said, totally crying. Then Ellie started laughing, and she came over to me and turned me around.

  “Stop laughing at me!” I shrieked, sounding like a baby.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, but it is a little funny. I’m sorry, Jule.” She stood there facing me with her hands on my shoulders, but I kept my head down. “You want me to help you pick out a nightshirt?” she asked.

  Even though Ellie got nice after that and said she swore my long white Fiorucci nightshirt with the two angels on it was perfect for my sleepover with Josh, I decided to go shopping on Saturday morning. I had almost a whole day before I had to get the bus to New Jersey, so I went to Macy’s. I hadn’t been there since a few months before with Julie, back when we were friends and I was stealing. We had gone one day after school and each got a pair of Calvin Klein jeans. Julie also got a magenta velour V-neck top and just as we were leaving, we pocketed some earrings that were on those little plastic squares ’cause there wasn’t a salesperson anywhere. As usual, we made it out of the store, no biggie.

  This time I walked through the first floor to the escalators feeling a little nervous, but I kept telling myself, I’m only going to buy, I’m only going to buy. I went to the juniors floor and it was kind of crowded. Looking through the nightgowns and nightshirts, I found some flannel ones on sale but they were too warm and too long. There were some pink gingham short nightshirts with matching bloomers, but they seemed too girly. Then I saw some plain yellow, blue, and green nightshirts. They were $9.99. I had just about enough with tax. I took two smalls and two mediums in different colors and went to the dressing room. There was a lady with enormous boobs counting some shorts. I noticed her huge chest because the glasses she wore on a chain around her neck rested there like they were sitting on a shelf. As soon as the lady saw me, she yanked my four hangers out of my hand and said, “Four!” loudly and headed down the dirty green carpeting trail to the dressing rooms. “This way!” she said, and her boobs led us to an open door. I was wondering if she was hard of hearing or something ’cause then even louder she said, “Bring everything out when you’re done, all right?” She wasn’t mean or anything, just loud.

  “All right!” I shouted back. It just came out that way.

  Inside the dressing room I felt relieved that she had counted my nightshirts so I’d have to be a total idiot to try to steal one, and yet part of me was trying to figure out how to do it. As I tried on the green size small, I actually thought about waiting until the lady was distracted. I wondered whether or not I could quietly tiptoe past her with a rolled-up nightshirt in my bag. But I couldn’t be sure she was really deaf. Then I remembered to keep telling myself, I am only going to buy, I am only going to buy, and I tried on the blue one in a medium. It fit better than the small, but I liked the green color. So I chose the green medium.

  I handed the loud lady the three I didn’t want. “Thank you, darlin’!” she said, and I went to find the cash register. My heart was pounding in my chest as I actually took out my wallet and paid for the shirt. I went out the Sixth Avenue exit wondering if I was cured forever.

  “Yeah, it’s okay,” Ellie said when I got home and showed it to her. “But I still think you should wear the Fiorucci one.”

  My heart sank. A part of me was wishing I could call Julie and say, “Can I come over and show you my new nightshirt and you can tell me which one to wear to Josh’s?” But I decided to trust Ellie, and I packed the Fiorucci nightshirt in my LeSportsac overnight bag. As I packed, I kept imagining kissing Josh and feeling his hands in my hair.

  22

  Alone in the Tennis Bed

  “So nice to meet you,” Marlene, Josh’s stepmom, said in a deep, gravelly voice as she met us on the white-carpeted landing a few steps up from the front door. Marlene was a roundish woman in a white terry-cloth robe with her hair all up in a towel like a turban. A few pieces of frosted blonde hair peeked out onto her forehead.

  “Excuse the towel, I just showered,” she said, as she wrapped both her warm hands around mine. One of her long pink nails lightly scratched my wrist. “Oh, pardon me!” she said and started cough-laughing like a smoker. Her voice was so husky she almost sounded like a man. I counted nearly ten gold chain bracelets on her wrist and a gigantic diamond ring. She had several gold necklaces on, too, hanging off her tanned, somewhat wrinkly neck. I wondered if she showered with all that jewelry on.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “Um. Nice to meet you, too.” We heard a timer go off in the kitchen.

  “Ooh! That’s the pigs ’n blankets. You kids are my tasters, all right? I’m trying out some new hors d’oeuvres, all right? Whaddaya say?” And she scampered off to the kitchen, where I heard her open the stove. Josh rolled his eyes and smiled.

  “Don’t mind her—she’s pretty cool actually,” he said. “Nothing like the evil stepmother you hear about.”

  “Josh!” Marlene shouted from the kitchen. “Why don’t you show your friend the tennis room? Take her bag downstairs.”

  “Yup!” Josh shouted back, taking my overnight bag from my arm. “I was just going to do that.” He touched my hand. “Follow me.” We went down a bunch of small white-carpeted steps to the basement.

  “It’s the guest room,” Josh explained. “We call it the tennis room.”

  The tennis room had white carpeting and kelly green wallpaper with white tennis rackets dancing all over it. There was a double bed neatly made with a matching green-and-tennis-racket bedspread and throw pillows. On each side of the bed stood white night tables with lamps that were made of that fuzzy yellow tennis-ball stuff. There was a white bureau with brass pulls on the drawers, and on top was a piece of kelly green material that matched the walls and the bedspread. It was sewn like someone had made a place mat out of extra material.

  “I guess you could s
ay Dad and Marlene are kind of obsessed with tennis,” Josh said, trying not to laugh, which of course made us both start cracking up. Josh was about to show me his room when we heard Marlene scream his name.

  “Yeah?” he said as we went back to the kitchen.

  “Would you and your friend like an RC Cola? Or I have Fresca, I have orange soda, and I have Dr. Pepper!” Josh looked at me.

  “Dr. Pepper’s fine,” I said.

  “Two Dr. Peppers and her name’s Julie,” Josh said, rolling his eyes again at Marlene.

  “Julie, of course. Forgive me, sweetheart, if I didn’t have my head screwed on. . . .” Her husky voice trailed off as she dumped the tray of pigs ’n blankets onto a paper towel on the counter. “Blow on them first,” she said, as she licked some flakes of dough out of her nails.

  The doorbell rang. Marlene squealed a little as she tightened her robe around her chest and pulled the terry-cloth belt. “That’s my liquor man!” she said. “Just a minute!” she called to the door. “Josh, take some mustard out of the fridge—you kids want mustard?” And she ran out of the kitchen to get the door.

  “She has all the liquor delivered whenever she has a party,” Josh explained. “It’s a lot of bottles.”

  “Gotcha. She is really funny,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Josh said with a mouth full of hot dog. “Oh! Hot!” He fanned his mouth and opened the jar of mustard.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Josh said after we had eaten more pigs ’n blankets.

  “But what about the party?” I said.

  “We’ll come back when it gets going,” he said. “There’s a cool park around here I want to show you.”

  I ran back down to the tennis room to get my jean jacket. Just as we hit the front door, we ran into Josh’s dad.

  “Well, hello!” he said. Mr. Heller was roly-poly like Santa but had brown hair and a brown beard and moustache. He was wearing a white alligator tennis shirt and white shorts that were too tight, and he was a little sweaty.