First I just walk around trying not to look conspicuous, even though I am dying to reach out and take a bite of everything. I note the employees so I can avoid them. They all wear red aprons and HELLO! MY NAME IS ——— tags pinned to the front. I get a hand basket and put a jar of tomato sauce in it so I look like a real shopper.
I sneak some chocolate-covered pretzels from the serve-yourself bins. People do this all the time. I’m not the only one. I suck the chocolate with my tongue and let the taste linger before crunching on the salty pretzel underneath.
I stop in the pet supplies section and examine the dog food. I select a can with a pull-off lid, since I don’t have a can opener. Liver chunks—Shadow will like that. I cradle the can in both hands and glance around. When the coast is clear, instead of putting the can into my basket, I slip it into the wide front pocket of my sweatshirt.
I head to the bakery. The warmth from the oven makes me want to move right in. Long French loaves poke off the end of a wire rack. Homemade cookies wrapped in cellophane are lined up on a shelf. I practically drool over the fresh-cakes display. There is one that says HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAUGHTER in bright pink icing. I remember that addictive yet sickening taste of too much confectioner’s sugar from birthdays long ago. That was another time, another world, another girl.
“Can I get you something?” the woman behind the counter asks. I shake my head and move toward the doughnuts and muffins. I make sure the woman is gone, then open the plastic case and pick two fat blueberry muffins and stuff them into my pocket. I go to an aisle and add a jar of peanut butter, since it has good protein, and a couple of cans of tuna. This should be enough. I don’t want to take too much.
As I head to the front door I pass through produce again. It’s apple season, and the displays hold mountains of apples: McIntosh, Gala, Granny Smith, Cortland, Red Delicious. I select a nice Cortland. I can already imagine the crunch of the first bite, the juice dribbling down my chin, the sweet taste. I add the apple to my stash. All the food fills up my pocket as if I am pregnant.
I turn around and almost bump into an employee spraying the lettuce. I am face-to-face with his nametag: HELLO! MY NAME IS DAN. He eyes me suspiciously. How could I not have noticed him? He’s standing there as plain as day. Did he see me take the apple?
My heart races as I head, as calmly as I can, toward the exit. I see the parking lot through the glass doors. I am almost there. The doors slide open with a whoosh. The sun hits my face at the same instant that a hand clasps my shoulder.
“Just a minute there, miss.” Dan the Produce Man spins me around. His grip is heavy, even though he’s kind of scrawny. His chin is raw with red nicks, like he hasn’t gotten the hang of shaving yet. “I think you forgot something,” he says. He keeps one hand on my shoulder as he reaches into my pocket with his other.
I cringe and step back. “Don’t,” I plead.
But he’s already grabbed the apple. He waves it in the air like a trophy. “Aha! I knew it!” The peanut butter jar falls onto the ground, and he picks that up as well. “I think we’d better go see the manager.”
He tightens his grip on my shoulder and walks me back through the store and up a staircase that leads to a closed door. He knocks.
Inside, a pudgy man sits at a desk, his face hidden behind a computer screen.
“What?” the man asks, poking his head around the monitor.
I scrutinize his face. Not exactly kind, but not evil, either. How would Shadow react? Would he growl or wag? I can’t tell. My instincts are not as clear as his.
Dan the Produce Man, who is tall and thin and much younger than the manager—a kid really—speaks. “I found her stealing.” He pushes me forward. “Look.” He places the apple and the peanut butter on the manager’s desk. It reminds me of an elementary school kid giving his teacher an apple, hoping for extra credit.
“And?” the manager asks.
Dan the Produce Man comes toward me and again tries to reach into my pocket.
This time I step sideways so that he can’t. “Don’t touch me,” I say.
I take out the rest of the stuff myself—the muffins, the tuna fish, the dog food—and put them on the desk.
“I was going to pay,” I say. “I left my money in the car. I was going to come right back in and pay.” The lie slips out of my mouth, easy and cool as Jell-O. But inside I am trembling and screaming. I don’t know if I am scared, worried, or mad. I feel the hint of the trembling from inside start to creep toward the outside, and I push against it as hard as I can and remain still.
I want to break down and cry, return all the stuff and leave, but it’s better to be mad. Mad is easier and safer. And I am mad. I am mad at myself for getting caught. Mad at Dan the Produce Man, who is obviously going for Employee of the Month status.
Both men are staring at me. I want to run, scream, flee, disappear into thin air along with everything else. Crumble into rubble and ash and be done with myself. But the door is blocked and my feet won’t move.
“Sir,” Dan the Produce Man says, breaking the silence, “why would she put items into her pocket? If she forgot her money, wouldn’t she just leave the items in the store and come back for them when she has the money to pay? It doesn’t make sense.”
I stop crumbling and think fast. “I’d already picked everything out,” I hear myself say. “I didn’t want to risk someone putting it all back. I was going to pay.” I even manage an innocent smile.
Dan the Produce Man shakes his head and talks to the manager in a bossy tone. “We have to press charges. She was clearly stealing. Just look at her—she’s a dirty thief.”
The manager picks up the can of dog food. He turns it around in his hands, mulling it over. “What’s this for?” he asks.
“My dog,” I say. “He’s outside. He’s hungry.” Then I add in a whisper, so low I’m not sure he can hear, “Please.”
The chair squeaks as the manager gets up. He walks to the window and peeks between the blinds. I can’t see, but I cross my fingers that Shadow is still there.
The manager doesn’t say anything as he sits back down. He picks up one of the muffins and fiddles with the paper wrapper. He peels it off, takes a bite, then looks me straight in the eye. I stare back, pleading inside, please, please, please.
He waves his hand as if dismissing me. “Get out of here,” he says.
I glance at Dan the Produce Man, who is standing between the door and me. His face drops with disappointment. I think he really wants me locked up.
“But, sir,” he says. “Shoplifting is a crime.”
The manager sighs. “You’re doing a great job, Dan. Don’t worry about this.” Then to me, “If I were you, I wouldn’t come back in here.”
“I won’t. I promise.” I step backwards toward the door. Dan the Produce Man has to move out of my way.
“Wait.” The manager stands and picks up the dog food. “Here.” He tosses the can to me. I catch it against my chest. “Take that for your dog.” He ruffles the papers on his desk. “Now get out. Both of you.”
Dan the Produce Man walks me back through the store glued to my side, probably thinking that he is protecting the customers from my evil ways. We get outside and he finally steps away from me.
“You’re lucky, miss,” he hisses, practically spitting in my face. “Damn lucky. If I were the manager, I’d abide by the law. Shoplifters will be prosecuted to the fullest extent.” He points at the door as though reading from a sign, but there’s nothing there. Just glass. “You heard him,” he says. “Get out of here and don’t ever come back.”
I look around for Shadow. He’s not by the bike rack. Neither is the green bike. I want to yell his name and walk around to the dumpsters, where I suspect he may be scrounging. But Dan the Produce Man is standing there waiting for me to leave. So I do.
I’ve been circling this town for hours, calling for Shadow. But he is nowhere. I’ve had to break my rule of not interacting, and ask. No one has seen a silver dog with poin
ted ears wandering around. Perhaps this time he’s taken off for good, decided I am not worth it after all. I left him outside the store for too long. He probably thought I was never coming back with his treat.
The sun is setting. I head back to the supermarket even though I was told never to go there. This is the last place I saw Shadow. I stare at the bike rack as if staring will make him reappear.
Then I remember the green bike. Could it be that the guy with the bike took Shadow? Why would he do that? Shadow trusted him, but maybe even Shadow can make a mistake. Perhaps the guy stole Shadow to sell him to the circus.
The store is closing. I see Dan the Produce Man waiting outside. I duck around the corner before he notices me. An old sedan pulls to the curb, and a high-pitched woman’s voice yells out the window about having to pick him up. He walks toward the car, but before reaching it he stops short in front of a newspaper dispenser and leans down to stare intently at something. He glances all around and scratches his head. The woman in the car screams at him again, and this time he gets in and they drive away.
As soon as they’re gone I walk all around the store and the parking lot calling, “Shadow, here boy. Come here.” I wave the can of dog food in the air. “I’ve got a treat for you.” I check the dumpsters in back. He’s not anywhere.
I go back to the front, passing the newspaper dispenser. I’m curious what Dan the Produce Man was staring at, so I go over and lean down to read. The front page is displayed through the clear plastic. It’s a regional paper. At first I don’t see anything of interest. A new development going in, comments on the weather, someone driving his tractor on the wrong side of the street, stuff like that.
Then I notice a picture at the bottom. It’s a girl, about my age. Her hair is clean and freshly done up. She’s round-faced with chubby cheeks and has a bland smile like she’s posing for a school photo and someone told her to look happy.
The face is familiar, too familiar, but I can’t figure out from where.
The article is cut off in the fold of the paper, but I can read the caption under the photo: Girl, 17, missing from recent house … It’s hard to see the rest, but I think I make out the word explosion.
Lightning pierces my brain as I stumble backwards on the curb. My head pounds as if it could crack open any second. I squeeze my thumb and forefinger between my eyebrows so hard that it hurts, but it’s better than the pain inside.
Then comes the smell. It creeps into my nostrils slowly at first, like a whiff on a slight breeze, and then it hits full force. It smells like death and flesh. I close my eyes. I see smoke and rubble everywhere. Piles of wood blown to smithereens. Dust rising from the depths. My heart pulses a thousand times a second. Am I having a heart attack?
Everything goes blurry and blood rages through my body. Burning and bubbling. Rising to the surface. Through the haze behind my eyes I can make out the shape of a body in the rubble. Then another. I squeeze my eyes tighter to try to make it disappear, but it doesn’t disappear. In fact the image gets sharper. I realize it’s not two bodies I see but two pieces of one body.
I suck in air but it doesn’t go down. I can’t breathe. I must be dying.
All dead. All dead. No one survived. All dead.
The lights on the world suddenly shut down, and I drift away into blankness.
BEFORE
I didn’t want Jake’s feelings for me to stop, so I pretended everything was the same. I figured if I didn’t tell him we were moving, maybe it wouldn’t happen.
“Hey, babe,” he said the next time we saw each other. “My parents are out of town this weekend, and I’m having a few people over tonight. Come. I want to show you off.” He wrapped his hand around the bracelet he’d given me. “Just make sure you wear this.”
When I arrived at his house later that night there were already a dozen cars in the driveway. The door was open, so I let myself in. A group of kids were clustered in the kitchen spraying Easy Cheese on potato chips. A boy offered me one, along with a plastic cup filled with something pink. I shook my head and asked if they knew where Jake was. Someone pointed to the backyard, and I wandered through the sliding glass doors.
People were in huddles drinking beer and laughing. Music blared from the outdoor speakers.
I spotted Jake near the pool talking to Adrianna. I barely knew her, though she’d been in most of my classes for years. I wasn’t sure what the deal was with her and Jake. I was about to turn away, maybe look for someone, anyone else to talk to, when Jake spotted me, shined his white smile, and gestured me over.
As soon as I reached them, he put his arm around me and my spirits instantly lifted. He wasn’t embarrassed by me after all. He pointed to Adrianna. “You know each other, right?”
I raised my hand in a meek hello.
Adrianna smiled a completely fake smile. “Yeah,” she said. “We were in English together. How are you?”
I shrugged. “Fine.”
“So, are you two an item now?” Adrianna asked, glancing from me to Jake.
I didn’t have to answer because Jake leaned over and started nibbling my ear, then moved his lips down my cheek to my mouth. When he broke away, he said to Adrianna, “Does that answer your question?”
Adrianna rolled her eyes and wandered off but not before giving me a scowl.
Jake watched her, then turned to me. “She’s got a total crush on me, and she can’t let go. Even though I’ve told her it’s finito like five times. I want her to know she doesn’t stand a chance.”
Adrianna was pretty, she came from a rich family, she had her own car, and she moved in all the right circles. She was perfect for Jake. Why would he choose me over her?
But for whatever reason, Jake had chosen me, and that was all that mattered. He was even willing to kiss me in front of everyone. Being Jake’s girlfriend was the very thing that was going to change me. In fact, it already had.
Jake squeezed my arm. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”
We walked, hand in hand, over to Bradley, who was manning the keg underneath some plastic palms lit up with strings of red chili-pepper lights. As I reached out to take the beer Bradley offered, he stared at my wrist, then slapped Jake on the back. “You old devil. I guess I owe you,” he said. “Congratulations.”
Jake shot Bradley a dirty look, but Bradley went on, talking to me this time. “Looks like you finally got what you wanted after all these years.” He sang the kissing song. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage …”
My cheeks were flame hot. I should have known they remembered me from that stupid pool party so long ago. But things were different now. Jake was different now. This Jake wouldn’t humiliate me like that.
“Leave it alone, dude!” Jake shouted, interrupting Bradley’s singing. To me he whispered, “Don’t listen to this dickwad.”
Bradley just shrugged and pointed to some activity behind us. “Looks like the band’s arrived.”
There were way more than a few people at the party by now. Some kids were setting up a guitar and drums on the patio. The music stopped and there was nothing but the sounds of voices for a few minutes. Then the band started. It was hardly music you could dance to, but before long, people were moshing anyway. I took minuscule sips of my beer to make it look like I was drinking and watched the dancers. It looked fun to just let go like that, move any way you wanted and not care who you smashed into or who was watching.
“Do you want to dance?” I asked Jake.
“What?”
“Dance!” I yelled.
I handed him my beer, which he downed in a single gulp. We headed onto the patio where the bulk of dancers were congregated, although the dancing had begun to spread all around the yard. I swayed. Jake closed his eyes and gyrated his hips. He put his hands around my waist and made me move faster. I did. He pulled me close.
There was a charged energy in the air. Everyone and everything was moving superfast. The chili lights gave off a devilish glow, and the music pulsed
through our bodies. Jake turned me around so my back was against him. I leaned in to him. I felt the ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum of our hearts beating against one another.
Someone yelled, “Geronimo!” and jumped into the pool. Others followed, and suddenly there was mayhem. Those who weren’t jumping in were getting thrown in.
“Time to get out of here,” Jake whispered.
We went to the pool shed. No one else was in there, and it was dark. We stumbled over some equipment into a corner. Jake pressed into me, pushing my back up against the wall. His breath smelled of beer. “You’re different from other girls.” He slurred his words a little as he spoke. “Even when we were little you were unique.”
“I can’t believe you remember that … At that pool party when we were little …” My voice trailed off.
“Shh,” Jake said as he caressed my shoulder.
“I was such an idiot back then,” I said.
“Nah, you were sweet. You still are.”
I could hardly contain the grin spreading across my face. Maybe all along Jake had liked me, even then.
Suddenly the mood shifted and he was all over me, and fast. Pressing his lips against mine so hard it hurt and sliding his hands up and down my body. He was like a voracious wolf, and I was his prey.
“Wait,” I said. “I’m not sure—”
“Oh, come on. This is what I like about you—you don’t follow any of those stupid rules.”
“I think you’re drunk,” I said.
He laughed. “So what?” He tried to kiss me again, but I turned my cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “You were fine the other day.”
He had me pinned under his arms so I couldn’t move. We could hear people yelling and screaming just on the other side of the wall.
Nothing But Blue Page 9
