by Liz Czukas
“Thanks, you guys,” I say when I’m starting to feel full.
“You’re welcome,” Micah says.
“Just do us a favor and don’t ever let it get that bad again before you tell us you need to eat.” Tyson smiles at me.
“Right.” For once, I don’t turn all red and blotchy. I think I may have managed to fill up my embarrassment tank for the day.
After a little more snacking, everyone is starting to slow down and I decide to refocus on the matter at hand.
“Micah, how much room would all that money have taken up?” I ask.
Just like Tyson and Gabe did earlier, he doesn’t really answer. “That depends on the denominations and conditions of the bills. For example, if everyone put in hundred-dollar bills, there would only be a hundred of them, but—”
Sammi flaps a dismissive hand. “Yeah, we get it. Why are you asking, Chloe?”
“I was trying to imagine how someone could empty the entire box without anyone noticing. If it were a lot of small bills, like singles, it would be a lot, wouldn’t it? A grocery bag full, I would think.”
“You’d think you’d notice if someone was walking around with a big bag of cash,” Tyson agrees.
“Not if they did it after the store was closed,” Gabe says.
“Or—” I lean into the word, proud of my lightbulb moment. “What if they didn’t take it all at once?”
Tyson sucks in a breath, like he’s preparing a rebuttal, but nothing comes out. “That could have happened.”
“Who had the key?” I wonder aloud.
“Solomon did, but other than that, who knows?”
“Management, probably,” Zaina says.
“Maybe not, though,” I say. “Why would anyone need to get inside the box before today? It didn’t matter how much money was in there, does it? As long as there was still enough room for people to drop in their donations, right?”
“So, what are you saying?” Zaina asks.
“I—” I open my mouth, hoping for another breakthrough conclusion to slip out, but it turns out I don’t have one. “I’m not sure.”
“It had to be somebody who knew how to pick a lock, then,” Tyson says. “Without breaking it.”
“Who knows how to do that?” Gabe says.
“I do!” Micah volunteers.
Sammi is gaping at Micah. “You?”
“Sure. I learned how on the internet.”
“Oh.” Gabe slumps. “Anybody can watch a video, Micah.”
“No, I can do it,” Micah insists. “I practiced and everything. Padlocks are actually really easy.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all.” His face lights up. “Did you know there are competitions for lock picking? It’s called locksport.”
Everyone looks at him blankly.
“Really,” he insists. “It’s a thing.”
“Show us,” Sammi says.
“I don’t have a padlock.” Micah looks around as if one might appear.
Sammi doesn’t speak, but sticks one hand out, pointing to the employee lockers. Most of them are closed with combination locks, but there are a few padlocks in the bunch.
“Oh.” Micah blanches. “Do any of you have one of them?”
We all shake our heads. It’s easier to have a combination lock than to try to remember where your key is.
“I don’t feel right breaking into someone else’s locker without their permission,” Micah says.
“Just unlock it,” Sammi says. “You can close it up again. No one will even know.”
Micah fidgets in his seat. “I don’t know. . . .”
“I told you he couldn’t do it,” Gabe says.
“No, I can do it. I just don’t know if I should.”
“Come on, Micah. We won’t tell.”
This goes on for a while, with Sammi and Gabe working on Micah. The rest of us stay quiet. It’s not that I think he shouldn’t do it—I actually really want to see him do it—but I feel like I should be opposed to it, considering what we’re already here for.
“. . . need a hairpin,” Micah says. “I don’t have one of those.”
“I do,” Zaina volunteers.
Sammi spins around with a look of glee. “Excellent. Get it.”
Zaina goes to her own locker and spins the combination into the lock. The interior of her locker is neat, with a small zippered case tucked in one corner. She searches it and brings out a black bobby pin. “Will this do?” she asks.
“That’ll work.” Micah takes it from her and scans the bank of lockers for his target. Eventually he settles on one near the floor, so he can sit comfortably in front of it.
The rest of us crowd around him, trying to get a look at what he’s doing. It’s hard to see what his hands are up to in such a small space, but I can tell that he’s broken the pin in two pieces. He works one piece into the lock and bends it, then fishes it back out to use as a tool in concert with the other.
I hold my breath, waiting, and after a moment, I’m rewarded with a faint click.
Micah flicks his wrist and the lock opens. He slides it out of the loop on the door and holds it up triumphantly.
“Ho-ly crap,” Gabe says. “You actually did it.”
“I told you I could.” Micah smiles. “It’s easier with a thin piece of plastic—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sammi cuts him off, dropping to a crouch beside him. “Now let’s see whose locker this is.”
“No! We’re not opening it!” Micah slams his hand on the door. It bangs into place, making the rest of the locks chatter against the metal.
“Oh, come on. What’s the big deal?” Sammi says. “Aren’t you at least curious?”
“You promised we would put the lock back on,” Micah protests.
“I didn’t promise,” Sammi reminds him.
“Sammi,” Zaina says. “Don’t upset Micah.”
Sammi seems surprised to be chastised by the usually quiet Zaina. She rocks back on her heels and holds her hands up in surrender. “All right. Put the lock back on, Micah.”
With a sigh of relief, he does.
“Would you show me how to do that?” Gabe asks.
“Are you planning on doing something illegal?” Micah asks.
Gabe appears to think about it. “Probably not.”
“I won’t teach you unless you promise not to use the knowledge for evil.” Micah is serious, even though the rest of us crack up.
Gabe draws in a breath, holds it, squinting at Micah for a moment, then lets it all out in a rush. “I can’t promise that.”
“Then I’m not going to teach you.” Micah crosses his arms.
“Fine,” Gabe drawls. “I just thought it would be a cool thing to know. The kind of thing you can bust out at a party or something.”
“Stupid human tricks?” I supply.
“Exactly.”
“I’ve never picked a lock at a party,” Micah assures him.
“Have you ever even been to a party?” Sammi asks.
“I was at my grandparents’ anniversary party just last month, but that’s not what you mean, is it?” he says.
Tyson laughs. “You did not just say that.”
“What?” Micah asks.
“You’re hilarious,” Gabe says.
My cheeks get hot on his behalf. “Don’t listen to them, Micah. I think you’re very sweet.”
“Thank you, Chloe.”
“Lock picking isn’t a stupid human trick anyway,” Tyson says. “It’s a skill. Stupid human tricks are more . . .”
“Stupid?” I supply.
“I’ve got one!” Sammi announces. “Watch this.” She gets up and backs away from the rest of us until she has a wide circle of empty space. Then, without warning, she flips onto her hands. Her legs go up and coins fall out of her pockets, plinking to the ground in all directions.
“Woo-hoo!” Micah cheers, initiating a clap that gets us all going.
“Wait!” Sammi grunts. Once she has her bal
ance, she starts walking on her hands. She makes it about four paces before she overbalances and flings herself back to her feet. She straightens, sticking her arms up. “Ta-da!”
“Not bad. Not bad!” Gabe nods while we all continue to clap.
“Again, that’s more of a skill,” Tyson says.
Sammi juts her chin at Tyson. “All right, then, Mr. Expert. What can you do?”
He hesitates.
“What is it?” I’m delighted at the idea he has a hidden talent.
“Out with it!” Sammi commands.
Without speaking, Tyson gets to his feet. He tilts his head from side to side, making his neck crack, and takes a few steps in place. Then he shakes out his arms.
“Do it already!” Gabe shouts.
Tyson grabs his right wrist in his left hand and swings his arm up and over his head. When he brings it down behind his head, his shoulder bulges unnaturally, then suddenly it’s flat again and his arm is all the way behind his back.
Everyone gasps and cringes as he does a rolling motion with his torso and the arm pops back up to a normal position. He brings it around to the front and lets go of his wrist, spreading his arms wide in presentation.
“I think I’m gonna puke,” Gabe declares, looking decidedly green in the face.
“Totally sick!” Sammi obviously isn’t grossed out at all.
“Does that hurt?” I ask.
“It’s like a really intense stretch,” he says. “I can’t do it over and over again, but it’s not bad if I just do it once or twice.”
“Oh my God.”
“That was disgusting,” Gabe says. The green pallor is fading, but he still looks shell-shocked.
“Come on. Who else has something?” Tyson asks.
“I do,” I say. “It’s not as good as that, but it’s kind of cool.”
“What?”
“Okay, you have to pay close attention.” I take off my glasses, instantly turning everyone into flesh-colored blobs. “Watch my eyes.” I blink a few times to get them good and lubricated, then with intense concentration, I make my left eye go to the corner while the right stays staring straight ahead.
One of the colored blobs jumps back. “What the hell was that?” It’s Sammi. “Do it again.”
“Okay. Hang on.” I close my eyes and straighten up in my seat. Repeating this trick is always harder after the first time. I don’t know why. If I do it a bunch of times, I end up with a massive headache, but it’s worth a time or two for the gross-out factor.
Opening my eyes, I repeat it and Sammi jumps again.
“That is just unnatural,” she pronounces.
“Creepy,” Zaina agrees.
I put my glasses back on. “All right, then, what can you do?” I ask Zaina.
“Besides speak three languages?” she teases.
“Yeah, besides that,” Micah says without a trace of sarcasm.
“I can do this.” She stands, her back very straight, and slowly raises one foot to touch her opposite knee, like a ballet dancer. Then it comes up higher, until she can grab it with her hand, and continues to rise until she’s holding her foot above her head. Her knee and elbow are fully extended, and while she bobbles a bit to keep her balance on her other leg, the feat is very impressive. We all applaud.
“All right, that just leaves you, Gabriel,” Sammi says.
Gabe sighs. “There’s one thing I can do.”
“I demand a demonstration.” She thumps the table.
“De-mon-stra-tion,” Tyson chants, pumping his fist.
I pick up the chant, then Micah and Zaina do, too.
“Yes!” Sammi cheers. “Show us. Show us or we’ll all doubt your manhood for the rest of your life.”
He gives her an “oh please” look.
She quirks her eyebrows at him and pokes him in the ribs. “Show us!”
“Fine.” He brings his hands up to his face and flips his upper eyelids so we can see the insides.
“Ew!” I say without a thought.
Sammi cheers loudly, sticking both arms up in victory.
Gabe scrubs his face, righting his lids and looking embarrassed. “I told you I couldn’t do anything cool.”
The door to the store opens and Kris pokes his head in. “What are you guys doing in here?”
“Nothing.” Sammi lets her arms drop.
“We’re just talking,” I say.
“Solomon called the police again. They said they’ll be here in ten minutes.” His mouth opens again like he wants to say something more, but he just nods and lets the door drop shut.
“Finally!” Zaina says.
“I can’t believe I ate all that crap when I’ve got my grandma’s cooking waiting for me at home.” Tyson sighs.
“Just eat more,” Gabe says with a shrug.
Tyson makes a tsking sound. “I’m gonna have to. My grandma doesn’t let people come to dinner without eating.”
I let their words drift over me, but this time it’s not about my blood sugar. This time, I’m thinking about the missing money. Ten minutes to figure this out.
I pull out my notebook again and jot down some thoughts.
- Potentially $10,000
- Mostly small bills
- Could have filled a grocery bag
- No damage to the lock—picked?
- Who has a key?
- Was the money taken all at once or every day?
- Someone accused us of stealing it, either one or all of us working together
- Everyone claims innocence
- Why did Solomon let all the other employees go? Why isn’t everyone being fingerprinted?
I look up at the others. “Who do you think said we did it?”
“Who knows?” Gabe sighs.
“When in doubt, blame Agnes,” Sammi says.
“But why would he believe Agnes?” I wonder.
“Because she’s worked here since dinosaurs roamed the Earth?” Gabe suggests. “Because she’s actually the soul of the store itself that only manifests in human form during regular business hours?”
Sammi laughs, a staccato burst of her hehs all stuck together.
Agnes doesn’t seem like the culprit to me—not the thief or the one who accused us. I tap my pen on the end of the notebook and rack my brain for any details I might have missed.
“Has anyone noticed someone with something new lately? Something expensive?”
Everyone shakes their heads.
“The only person around here who has anything even remotely cool is Kris,” Gabe says. “His car kicks ass.”
Although I don’t share his love of Kris’s old red sports car, I can at least agree with his assessment of the rest of the employees. The people who work here aren’t exactly rolling in spending money. A lot of them are actually retired people who either can’t or don’t want to stop working. They’re not the type to come in with fancy watches or expensive cars.
Maybe I’m being judgmental. Maybe they’ve got giant flat-screen TVs, or designer wardrobes when they’re not in their GoodFoods uniforms. Heck, they could have robot butlers for all I know.
“Did you know Kris is the owner’s son?” Zaina volunteers.
“What?” I had no idea. I’m not the only one, judging from the look on the others’ faces.
“How do you know?” Tyson asks.
“He told me.” She looks down at her lap. “That’s why he’s a manager even though he’s so young.”
“How old is he?” Gabe asks.
“Twenty-one,” she says.
“I had no idea,” Sammi says.
“Neither did I,” Micah says.
“Is it supposed to be a secret or something? Why did he tell you?” Tyson asks.
Zaina shakes her head, and for a moment, I think she’s going to pull back inside herself and we’ll never know. But then she sighs softly and straightens up to face us. “Because he wanted to impress me.”
“What do you mean?” Micah asks.
“He’s . .
. interested in me.”
My first thought is Duh, because she’s the most beautiful human on the planet.
“Why do you say that?” Tyson asks.
“He told me.” Her nose wrinkles.
“What did he say?” Sammi asks.
Zaina swallows hard. “He says a lot of things. Once he told me he can’t wait for my eighteenth birthday so it’s legal for him to want me.”
My lips curl into a sneer. “Eww. Seriously?”
“Kris?” Sammi says. “Our Kris?”
Zaina nods. “He’s always standing too close to me, or touching me.” At this, her eyes glaze with tears.
“He probably thinks he’s being funny,” Gabe says.
“Why don’t you tell him to back the hell off?” Sammi asks.
“I can’t.” Two fat tears slide down her cheeks.
“Why not?” Sammi demands. “I’d shove my elbow into his gut.” She mimics the action.
Zaina’s eyes close and her beautiful face creases. She sniffles quietly and wipes at her eyes. Finally, she whispers, “Because he caught me stealing.”
Chapter 19
REVELATIONS THAT HAVE SHOCKED ME LESS THAN ZAINA ADMITTING TO STEALING
1. There is no Santa.
2. There is no evidence that Humpty Dumpty was an egg.
3. The Easter Island heads have bodies underground.
4. There are more bacteria cells in your body than actual body cells.
5. My dad was married once before meeting my mom.
The front legs of Gabe’s chair thunk back to the ground as he leans forward. “You stole the money?”
“No!” Zaina’s voice is choked with tears. “I told you I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“This is so embarrassing.” Zaina sighs. “My sister, Layla, is . . . not a traditional Lebanese girl.” Her accent gets much thicker and she makes a face that tells me she’s imitating someone when she says “traditional Lebanese girl.” “She wants to be completely American. My dad doesn’t like it, but as my mother says, he’s the one who brought us here.”
Beside her Tyson reaches out to pat her shoulder, then pulls his hand back quickly. I have the same instinct to comfort her in some way, but with Tyson between us, it would be awkward to reach out. I have to settle for clenching my hands in my lap.
