I looked down at my clothes and back up again. “Look at me. Don’t I look like I need to see a shrink?”
She smiled but shook her head. “No. I like the Deftones,” she said, nodding at my patch. “I have all their albums.”
No way. No way this cool pretty chick in the Metallica shirt would also like one of my favorite, more obscure bands. I was pretty sure my mouth was open so I quickly tried to fill it with words.
“Uh, oh really? Cool. Have you seen them live?”
“No…I’ve never been to a concert. How about you? You look like you go to a lot.”
I laughed, trying to figure out if she was insulting me or not. Her face was still guarded, yet sweet, and I decided she was being genuine…which was rare around me. “No, I’ve never seen them live. I took the bus out to Palm Springs when I heard Queens of the Stone Age was playing at a small bar there. Course, they wouldn’t let me in, I was only ten at the time, but I saw Josh Homme from far away.”
I wondered if she knew who the singer/guitarist was but she just said, “Was he tall?”
“Yeah, he was tall.” Even though our conversation must have sounded pretty stilted and lame to anyone listening, I felt like I was having the best talk of my life. “All the girls were throwing themselves at him,” I added, trying to appeal to her even more.
She shrugged. “I don’t like redheads much but he’s good on guitar.” Her eyes drifted to the building. “Are you busy or do you want to help me with something?”
“I’ll help you,” I said a little too quickly. I winced at my own overenthusiasm but she just nodded at me with a straight face.
“Good,” she said. She started walking toward the building, her movements stiff. She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Come on.”
I looked back to the road, wondering if my dad was going to kill me if I wasn’t waiting by the curb. Then I decided that for this girl, death was worth it.
I followed her into the building, the smell of strawberries and vanilla wafting behind her. I tried not to stare at her ass as it wiggled in her jeans, but I caught a few glances while I could. Who knew if I’d ever be this close to a girl again? To be honest, I was surprised that not only was she cool as hell, but she was actually still talking to me. There had to be a catch…
As soon as we were in the mall-like foyer and spotted the small pharmacy shop—the type filled with canes and footbaths and gauze, not fun stuff like Sharpies and Super Soakers—I tried to make conversation.
“So where did you move here from?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Out East, the South, whatever,” she said and then stopped suddenly. I nearly ran into her and stopped myself just in time. I’m sure the last thing she wanted was a sweaty Camden all up against her.
She smiled like she was about to let me in on the world’s biggest secret. I felt like my breath was being leached from my lungs.
“You go talk to the clerk and distract him,” she said, her voice low and hushed.
“What?”
She frowned, her smile becoming wry and twisted. “Come on. Be a pal.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “I just don’t understand. You want me to distract Mr. Sirk, the guy behind the counter? Distract him from what?”
“Haven’t you ever shoplifted before?”
I was taken aback and laughed. “No.” Her mouth turned into a tight line. Oh my god, I thought she’d been joking. “You’re serious.”
“Man, you guys in this town are no fun,” she said and quickly turned to the store.
I reached out, grabbed her elbow, and dropped it as soon as I felt awkward, which was pretty much right away. “No, no. I mean. Yeah. This town is no fun. But I’ll help you. I’ve just never done it before.” For obvious reasons, too. I mean, one was that everyone watched me like a hawk anyway. I looked like I played Troublemaking Teen Number One in a Lifetime movie. Two was the fact that my dad was the sheriff.
Although the fact that I’d be helping this girl steal something—commit a crime—did make me feel like I was sticking it to my dad a bit.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
She raised a thin brow. “Why?”
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Well I figure if I’m going to be your accomplice, I might as well know your name. Bonnie and Clyde knew each other’s names.”
“They knew a lot more than that,” she said and I could have sworn another shade of crimson dotted the center of her cheeks. “My name’s Ellie.”
“Camden,” I said. I stuck out my hand then thought better of it. Then I raised it again because I’d already gone too far. I stared at it dumbly, like it was stuck in greeting limbo.
Luckily, Ellie was a good sport and she shook my hand anyway. Her grip was strong, surprising. Most girls my age shook hands like everyone had some disease—or maybe that’s just the way they were with me. But there was a strange sort of confidence in her handshake just as there was a strange sort of vulnerability in her eyes. She was already an enigma to me.
“Camden,” she said slowly, as if my name felt good on her tongue. “Isn’t that a town?”
I nodded. “I can be a lot of things.”
“So can I.” She looked to the store and back again, a grin making her cheeks pop. “So you’ll be the fall guy? I mean, you’ll distract him?”
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound more nonchalant than I felt. “What are you stealing?”
“Just…nothing,” she said.
“And you’re sure you can’t buy it?”
Her face fell briefly and a wash of sadness flashed through her dark brown eyes. “No. My family is poor. We live on
