Death of a Kleptomaniac by Kristen Tracy

horses?” my father asked.
    I thought I’d caught him at a good time. He’d looked relaxed, watching a crime drama with my mom. She’d already said it sounded like a fun opportunity. Of course, she said we needed my dad’s permission. Of course, as soon as I asked him for it, the scene on the television exploded in gunfire. White pops of light burst from the muzzles of long guns. A botched bank robbery. Half the people fell down dead. I moved to block my parents’ view and sat cross-legged in front of them.
    â€œI’ve been on other dates,” I said. “I’m almost seventeen.”
    â€œWyoming?” my father asked.
    We lived very near the Wyoming/Idaho border. It wasn’t much more than an hour’s drive. My father was completely overreacting, and my mother knew it.
    â€œSounds like a great time,” she said. “And they’re going as part of a group. It’s not like she’ll be off on her own in the middle of the wilderness.”
    My father didn’t want to agree. But he didn’t have reasonable grounds left to object.
    â€œTake your cell phone and keep it on,” he said.
    â€œYou bet,” I said, though I suspected my mountain date with Tate would be taking me out of range.
    The glass doors chime when we walk inside the store. Behind the register, I spot my father, decked out in a red smock, selling a ton of sprinkle doughnuts. We smile at each other. For some reason, our town has gone wild for sprinkle doughnuts. They regularly sell out. The sprinkle colors appear irrelevant to their popularity. I suspect it’s their high-sugar content. Whatever it is, our town has become addicted.
    I wander to the ice cream section. Doesn’t that settle stomachs? As I survey the different pints, one particular flavor catches my eye. Red velvet cake. It’s a limited-edition flavor. Oh, that stuff is criminally good. I can’t ever say no to it. Which is when one of the best ideas I’ve had in a long time hits me. This is how I should invite Tate to the Sweetheart Ball. I’ll write a note that says, “You’ll have to eat it all if you want to go to the Sweetheart Ball with…” And then I’ll write a second note and wrap it up in plastic, and it will say, “Molly Weller!” I’ll put that at the bottom of the pint. What a cleverly delicious idea. I pull two pints out of the freezer. Because I love the flavor too much to give my only pint away.
    â€œSadie!” my mother says behind me. “It’s been too long.”
    I flip around. Why is she here? Why isn’t she in school? It doesn’t get out for another half hour. I watch my mother hug her. Even though I should approach them, I don’t. But then I see them point at me, and I hate the idea of them talking about me behind my back. So I join them.
    â€œThanks for calling me about Molly,” my mother says.
    I blink. “You’ve been calling my mother?”
    â€œThis afternoon,” my mother says. “When you were sick.”
    â€œOh,” I say. I thought Mrs. Pegner called my mom. I thought Sadie had dried her hands, gone to class, and washed her conscience of me.
    â€œMolly,” Sadie says. Her voice is loud and serious, the tone of voice she assumes when she’s about to make an announcement. Is she going to say something loud and serious right in front of my mother? This is so weird.
    â€œI’m glad we ran into each other. I’ve been meaning to track you down for a while. I think you’ve got something of mine,” Sadie says.
    I am stunned that she would do this to me in my family’s store. Her words echo in my head. “You’ve got something of mine.” It feels like my life is ending. Really? This is how you’re going to confront me? At my father’s convenience store? Really? I am mad and confused at the same time. Because why did I even steal her ring? Nothing makes