the truth is, he IS stealing. Although now that I’ve seen his house, I’m pretty sure I know why. And I’m not entirely sure I blame him, even though he could have chosen something else to steal. If anyone was going to have those pajamas, it was going to be me.
“How ’bout an eyeliner?” offers Ginger, plucking one off a rack displaying several next to a rainbow of false eyelashes.
“Purrrrrfect,” says Zoe, ripping off its packaging. “Now all we need is paper.” She digs through her furry purse and finally produces a Mookie’s Donuts coupon, which she hands to me. One side reads TASTES BETTER IF YOU CALL IT A S’MOOKIE. 20¢ OFF . The other side is blank. Then she uncaps the eyeliner.
“Look, it’s your shade,” she says, winking and holding it out to me.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Vee, honey,” scolds Zoe, her voice dripping with concern. “When are you going to stop being a scared little girl and stand up for yourself?”
“I … what?”
“This
boy
… this total freaking loser … he goes to where you work and he sees your nice stuff and he snags it, just like that. Stuff you care about. Are you seriously going to tell me that’s okay?”
“No! I mean, it’s not like that. It’s just …”
“What’s not like what? He’s not a freak? He didn’t steal your stuff?”
“No, no. It’s just …”
Zoe puts a hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie, come on,” she says, her voice soft as a marshmallow. “You
know
we’re your friends, right?”
“Um, I guess.”
“Well, then wake up. Guys pull this crap all the time. Especially with the girls they know won’t call them on it.”
“Yeah,” adds Ginger, nodding knowingly.
“Come on, kiddo,” says Zoe. “It’s time you learned how to speak up for yourself.”
“By making an anonymous tip?”
Zoe smiles ruefully. “You gotta start somewhere.”
I look to Ginger for help, but she only nods.
“Oh, all right,” I grumble.
“Attagirl!” crows Zoe.
I take the eyeliner and try to disguise my handwriting by printing in all caps. I keep it short and to the point:
LENNY STEALS .
“Good,” says Zoe, reading over my shoulder. “Don’t crumple it up or they might think it’s trash,” she instructs.
While Zoe watches, I carefully fold the coupon twice and thread it into the little hole. As I do, the real-looking fake bird scrutinizes me suspiciously, like it is worried that I might be disturbing its eggs by poking a foreign object inside its nest. I half expect it to fly down and peck my eyes out.
“Well done,” pronounces Zoe, once the note is tucked inside. “I told you she had potential.”
“Totally,” agrees Ginger. “You should see about getting transferred downstairs.”
“Uh-uh,” I say. “I am strictly an upstairs girl.”
“You are SUCH an upstairs girl,” agrees Zoe.
“Uh, thanks … I think,” I say.
“Oh, shut up, that’s why we love you.”
Zoe is looking me straight in the eye when she says this, and it’s like looking directly at the sun—I actually have to turn away. I realize for the first time that she can be just as disarming when she’s being kind as she can when she’s being cruel.
“We’ve got to make a pact, though,” adds Zoe suddenly.
“What for?” I ask.
“To stay on him. I mean, he’s going to keep doing this, right? It’s up to us to make sure he doesn’t get away with it.”
“Right,” I say.
“So here’s the deal. We keep an eye on him when we see him. We maybe follow him again?” She gives me a look, making it clear that by “we” she means me. Ginger and I nod. “And if we see anything
unusual
, we’ll report it immediately.”
“To who?” asks Ginger, wide-eyed.
“To each other, duh!” snaps Zoe. “It’ll be … our Secret Spy Girl Pact.” She holds out her hand, palm down. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I say. Ginger nods. We pile our hands on top of Zoe’s.
Immediately, Zoe yanks hers back. Ginger and I pull back our hands like
“How ’bout an eyeliner?” offers Ginger, plucking one off a rack displaying several next to a rainbow of false eyelashes.
“Purrrrrfect,” says Zoe, ripping off its packaging. “Now all we need is paper.” She digs through her furry purse and finally produces a Mookie’s Donuts coupon, which she hands to me. One side reads TASTES BETTER IF YOU CALL IT A S’MOOKIE. 20¢ OFF . The other side is blank. Then she uncaps the eyeliner.
“Look, it’s your shade,” she says, winking and holding it out to me.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Vee, honey,” scolds Zoe, her voice dripping with concern. “When are you going to stop being a scared little girl and stand up for yourself?”
“I … what?”
“This
boy
… this total freaking loser … he goes to where you work and he sees your nice stuff and he snags it, just like that. Stuff you care about. Are you seriously going to tell me that’s okay?”
“No! I mean, it’s not like that. It’s just …”
“What’s not like what? He’s not a freak? He didn’t steal your stuff?”
“No, no. It’s just …”
Zoe puts a hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie, come on,” she says, her voice soft as a marshmallow. “You
know
we’re your friends, right?”
“Um, I guess.”
“Well, then wake up. Guys pull this crap all the time. Especially with the girls they know won’t call them on it.”
“Yeah,” adds Ginger, nodding knowingly.
“Come on, kiddo,” says Zoe. “It’s time you learned how to speak up for yourself.”
“By making an anonymous tip?”
Zoe smiles ruefully. “You gotta start somewhere.”
I look to Ginger for help, but she only nods.
“Oh, all right,” I grumble.
“Attagirl!” crows Zoe.
I take the eyeliner and try to disguise my handwriting by printing in all caps. I keep it short and to the point:
LENNY STEALS .
“Good,” says Zoe, reading over my shoulder. “Don’t crumple it up or they might think it’s trash,” she instructs.
While Zoe watches, I carefully fold the coupon twice and thread it into the little hole. As I do, the real-looking fake bird scrutinizes me suspiciously, like it is worried that I might be disturbing its eggs by poking a foreign object inside its nest. I half expect it to fly down and peck my eyes out.
“Well done,” pronounces Zoe, once the note is tucked inside. “I told you she had potential.”
“Totally,” agrees Ginger. “You should see about getting transferred downstairs.”
“Uh-uh,” I say. “I am strictly an upstairs girl.”
“You are SUCH an upstairs girl,” agrees Zoe.
“Uh, thanks … I think,” I say.
“Oh, shut up, that’s why we love you.”
Zoe is looking me straight in the eye when she says this, and it’s like looking directly at the sun—I actually have to turn away. I realize for the first time that she can be just as disarming when she’s being kind as she can when she’s being cruel.
“We’ve got to make a pact, though,” adds Zoe suddenly.
“What for?” I ask.
“To stay on him. I mean, he’s going to keep doing this, right? It’s up to us to make sure he doesn’t get away with it.”
“Right,” I say.
“So here’s the deal. We keep an eye on him when we see him. We maybe follow him again?” She gives me a look, making it clear that by “we” she means me. Ginger and I nod. “And if we see anything
unusual
, we’ll report it immediately.”
“To who?” asks Ginger, wide-eyed.
“To each other, duh!” snaps Zoe. “It’ll be … our Secret Spy Girl Pact.” She holds out her hand, palm down. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I say. Ginger nods. We pile our hands on top of Zoe’s.
Immediately, Zoe yanks hers back. Ginger and I pull back our hands like
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