Life After Theft (14 page)

“Monday? But wait!” I scrambled over down the rock wall after him, banging my knee. “Who are these guys? How am I supposed to plan something this big by Monday? I mean, we can’t just waltz in there and say, ‘Hi, this is from that dead girl.’ I might not get to see life outside of bars again.”

Khail didn’t even slow his step. “That’s the deal,” he said brusquely. “I provide the manpower and the truck. You come up with a plan, smart-ass. Work with me, get this done, or Sera is off-limits until you patch things up on your own.” He turned to fix me with a glare. “You understand what I’m saying?”

I hesitated, but what choice did I have? Besides, it
would
go way faster this way. “Tomorrow at noon,” I agreed.

And with a squeal of tires, he was gone.

I slid into the car beside Kimberlee and started the engine. We were almost out of her cul-de-sac before she spoke.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What happened? You were in there a long time.”

“He came, he saw, he offered to help.”

“He offered to
help
?”

“Did I stutter?”

She sat back in her seat again, her face full of confusion. “It’s a trick. He’ll get you caught,” she finally concluded.

“I don’t think it is.”

“Trust me. He hates me.”

“That’s why he wants to help, actually. Get you out of here so he doesn’t have to live in the same world as you anymore.”

“That was real sensitive,” she muttered.

“Look, it will take me months to get through all that stuff in there on my own, and I’ll probably get caught before it’s all gone. Do you want to move on, or whatever, or don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she said in a tone that didn’t quite have me convinced.

“Then this is the best way to go. Khail is going to meet me tomorrow with a bunch of guys and—”

“A bunch of guys? You are
begging
to get caught. People around here
cannot
keep secrets, Jeff. This is all going to blow up in your face.”

“Maybe it is, but what choice do I have? I can’t do this alone and I’m not going to try anymore.” I hesitated before adding, under my breath, “And it’s not like you can stop me anyway.”

“Me getting stuck with you is
so
unfair,” she responded.

“So true.”

I GOT TO PERENNIAL PARK
a full fifteen minutes before noon the next day. I’d convinced Kimberlee to stay home this time. For real. I didn’t want her chattering in my ear while I was trying to concentrate. I couldn’t help but feel like something big was about to happen. That, or I was about to get caught and expelled, and go down on record as having the shortest enrollment in Whitestone ever. Either way, I didn’t want any distractions.

It didn’t take long before cars started pulling up. A bunch of guys, most of them built like Khail, got out and leaned against their vehicles. Finally Khail’s big black truck rolled in and the guys headed toward it like homing missiles. Khail stepped out and his eyes locked immediately with mine. He gestured to the group and they all walked over to me; there must have been about fifteen of them. For the first time, I felt confident.

This might actually work.

“Jeff,” Khail said, walking up with a box under his arm, “meet the varsity wrestling team. Team? Jeff.” He rattled off a bunch of names, but I hoped he didn’t expect me to remember any of them.

We wandered over to a pavilion with a bunch of picnic tables under it and Khail set the box down as everyone else took a seat. When the team was settled, Khail reached in. “Stevens,” he barked, and one of the guys looked up right before a bag hit him in the chest. “Moore.” Another guy, another bag. Soon every wrestler but one had a bag. “Sorry, Sig,” Khail said, and I had a moment to briefly wonder if Sig was short for Sigfried or maybe Sigmund—what was wrong with parents out here? “I didn’t find one for you.”

I’d told Khail the code for the beach gate, but I hadn’t expected him to actually go back to the cave. I wondered how many hours he’d spent last night finding the bags for his teammates. I had clearly underestimated his commitment to this project.

Or maybe his hatred for Kimberlee.

The wrestlers started rooting in their bags, some pulling out one item, others two or three, with murmurs of surprise and even some laughter before one guy—the one Khail had called Moore—looked up at Khail and said, “What the hell is this?”

“This is all stuff that got stolen from you guys over the last few years,” Khail said.

“I can see that,” the guy replied, clearly not satisfied. “Why do
you
have it?”

Khail looked over at me. “Jeff was doing some cave exploration a couple weeks back—science geek,” he added, and the whole team nodded like that was explanation enough. “And he found a cave full of this stuff.”

“A cave?” another guy piped up.

“A cave,” Khail said firmly. “I’ve been there; I’ve seen it. You got a problem?”

The guy raised his hands in dismissal, but his face was still cloaked in disbelief.

“It’s full of tons of stuff,” Khail said, “like what I just gave you.” He stood a little taller. “I want to give it all back. Everyone deserves to have their belongings returned.”

“So give ’em back. What do you need us for?”

“Come here,” Khail said, gesturing for us to follow him. We walked over to his truck and I noticed for the first time that there was a big green tarp in the back. Khail leaned over the edge of the truck bed and lifted a corner of the plastic, revealing a sea of bags. “This is only . . . maybe ten or fifteen percent of the stuff in that cave,” Khail said. “That’s why I need you. There’s something for practically everyone at Whitestone, including teachers.” He tossed the tarp back over the loot and looked out at the wrestlers. “So, you guys in or not?”

“This is the stuff from the big theft ring, isn’t it?” one of the smaller guys asked.

Khail nodded.

The guy shook his head. “I can’t have anything to do with this. Hennigan already had me on his list for that because I have shoplifting on my record from when I was in middle school. He’ll blame me. Hell, he’ll probably
expel
me.”

“That’s the risk,” Khail said, nodding. “And not just for you. You all know how obsessed Hennigan was. He still can’t talk about it without blowing a vessel. He won’t care who
really
stole this stuff.
Any
of us get caught and we’re dead meat.”

“So why bother?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Khail said calmly, not missing a beat. “I was happy to get my stuff back—weren’t you?”

He looked around the circle as each wrestler eyed his bag of stuff.

“How do we know you didn’t steal it all in the first place?” asked one guy who I didn’t think looked nearly large enough to accuse Khail so directly.

“I have my faults, but I would never steal from my teammates, and I think you all know that,” Khail said, not looking offended at all.

“What about him?” the little guy piped up again. “I don’t even know him.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Khail spoke over me. “Jeff just moved here. I think being four hundred miles away is a damn tight alibi.”

“Why don’t you take it to the cops?” asked another guy.

“You think the cops are going to give anything back to anyone?” Khail said coolly. “They’ll confiscate everything, label it as evidence, and no one will see it again.” He paused. “I want all this stuff to go back where it
belongs
. No one likes being stolen from.” He paused for a second, then cleared his throat. “So I’m in, whether you guys are or not. But anyone is free to walk away right now.” He pointed a finger at the group. “You’re all bound to secrecy about what I’ve told you so far; don’t get me wrong. I will make sure anyone who rats pays—even you, Vincent,” he said, looking at the only guy there bigger than himself. “But I won’t force anyone to join us. Me and Jeff’ll do it ourselves if we have to.” He stopped and looked across the semicircle of guys. “Who’s in?”

The guys looked back and forth at one another and then down at their bags of stuff. Finally the big guy—Vincent?—raised his chin. “I am.”

One of the shorter guys nodded. “Me too.”

A couple more guys echoed him and after about thirty seconds, everyone had agreed to join—even the guy with the shoplifting record. I felt a tangible weight float off my shoulders as I looked around at the team who had all just agreed to help me. Well, help Khail. Hell, I didn’t care; they were helping.

“Okay,” Khail said. “Anyone who spills gets jumped by the rest of the team and don’t think that doesn’t include you, Jeff.”

“What?
I’m
not telling!”

“Just setting the rules,” Khail said.

“So what are we going to do?” one skinny guy finally asked.

Khail turned to look at me and everyone else followed his lead.

I think I broke out in an instant sweat.

“Um.” I scratched at the back of my neck and hoped it wasn’t turning red. “I didn’t really have a ton of time to plan last night.” I suddenly hoped Khail didn’t know I’d been out on a date with his sister. And for the first time I wondered just how much she’d told him about me. Specifically, about what we’d been doing throughout the entire movie. My ears were starting to heat up at the thought. “But I thought if we loaded a ton of the stuff into the truck and labeled it well, we could probably just leave it in a huge pile in the gym.” I looked at Khail. “You know, start simple.”

“Like Christmas?” a guy piped up from the back.

“Sure, moron,” another shot back. “Maybe we should get a Christmas tree to top the whole thing off.”

The two guys started arguing, but Khail’s eyes lit up and a half grin formed on his face. “Guys, knock it off. That would be awesome, don’t you think?”

“What, a Christmas tree?” I asked. “But it’s January.”

“No, seriously, picture it. We have an assembly tomorrow for our Northridge match. That would give us all excuses to be out of class. So right before lunch, everybody walks into the gym and there’s a ten-foot-tall Christmas tree with piles of those bags underneath. The school would go crazy!”

The guys were starting to smile and talk and I leaned in a little closer to Khail. “The point isn’t to make
anyone
go crazy. I wanted to get this done with as little attention as possible.”

“Jeff,” Khail said seriously, “you’ve got over a hundred boxes of stolen shit to return. There is no way to do that without having anyone notice. I’m already starting to hear people talk about stuff that’s suddenly coming back and you’ve hardly returned anything. You don’t understand how big a deal this thief was. Kids being pulled from the school, police patrolling the parking lots. It was massive. Trust me, people will talk. If we do this—and it’s going to get noticed anyway . . .” He trailed off, then finished with a grin and a flourish. “We may as well do it with style.”

“Where we gonna get a Christmas tree this time of year?” one of the wrestlers asked.

“My parents always line our front walk with ten-footers. They’re in storage. They’ll never know one’s missing,” Khail offered.

A Christmas tree. The idea was growing on me. After all, there was nothing wrong with
style
, as Khail put it. We huddled closer and began to hammer out details, mostly how we were going to get everything into the gym without getting caught. But between a bunch of jocks with huge duffel bags who hung out in the gym a lot anyway, and Kimberlee to keep invisible watch, I figured we’d be able to pull it off.

“Okay,” Khail said as we started to break it up, “there are enough bags here for everyone to take fifteen. Fill up your gym bags, backpacks, whatever. Bring ’em Monday.”

“Oh!” I said, remembering. “You’ll need these.” I pulled out my big roll of “Sorry” stickers and ripped off a strip for each guy.

“Why do we have to put these on here?” one of the shorter guys asked.

“Don’t you think whoever did this is sorry?” I asked. Totally lame.

The guy looked dubiously up at the huge pile of bags. “Maybe?” he said, more a question than an answer.

“It’s a logo,” I said, still holding the stickers out to Shortie. “The stuff I’ve already returned had the stickers on them and if we don’t put them on these, too, no one’ll know it’s the same person.”

“So?”

“Dude, it’s cool,” Khail interjected. “We’re going to be totally famous around school.”

“Yeah, but no one will know it’s us.”

“That’s half of the point. We’ll be like a secret society. A league.” He was really getting into this.

Shortie looked dubiously down at the strip of stickers in his hand. “I guess,” he mumbled.

Khail and I both helped hand out the bags. Slowly, Khail’s teammates returned to their cars and drove away. Finally it was just Khail and me and fifteen bags.

“You counted them out exactly,” I said, watching as Khail stuffed the remaining bags into his own duffel.

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” Khail said evasively.

“How did you know everyone would agree?”

“Because I know my team. They’re good guys.”

“I see that,” I said quietly, wondering if I would put myself on the line for someone I didn’t know. I barely agreed to do it under threat of psycho haunting. “I never did say thanks,” I added.

“Well, I don’t exactly have totally selfless motives,” he said, brushing it off.

“Yeah, actually, you do,” I countered. “You’re not getting anything out of it. Even if it’s for Sera, that still doesn’t directly benefit you.”

“Whatever. I have my own reasons,” he said, turning his back on me.

Note to self: Do not get personal with Khail
.

Third hour had never felt so long. I sat there listening to Mrs. Wilkinson drone on about economics and didn’t hear a single word. Khail had insisted that, this once, I couldn’t help.

“You gotta be the one with an alibi,” he said seriously. “The rest of us can all claim that we thought we were just helping with the assembly. But if the trail leads back to you, you have to have proof you weren’t involved.”

“But I’m the only one who can talk to Kimberlee,” I argued. Kimberlee had agreed—volunteered, even—to be on watch for teachers, custodians, and especially Principal Hennigan while the wrestlers were pulling off their antiheist.