Free Sticky Fingers by Niki Burnham

alone. I don’t care if Scott thinks that I should let Mat talk to her about her behavior first. This has gone far enough.
    Because if it goes any further—whether she’s acting this way because of her parents’ divorce or because she’s stressed out about school or whatever—it’s going to be the end of our friendship.

Chapter 5
    “What the hell was that all about?”
    Scott’s been glaring at me ever since we got into his car outside Bennigan’s. I don’t know if it’s because I’m sitting here fuming or if it’s because of the crap Courtney spewed in the restaurant about my scoping out some nonexistent hottie at the CVS.
    Either way, I can’t help getting madder and madder at her and envisioning various ways I can cause her great physical harm.
    “You want the truth?” I say once I can get my anger under control enough not to scream out thatI’ve suddenly discovered my best friend is, in fact, devil spawn.
    He lets out a sarcastic snort. “No, just make something up. Damn, Jen, what’s got you so pissed?”
    “Courtney,” I bite out.
    We hit a red light, and he looks over at me. “Now you’re mad at her for her whacked behavior? I thought you were just worried.”
    So he didn’t catch on. Typical guy. “You know that whole nail polish discussion I had with Mat while you were paying the bill at the restaurant? And how Courtney got back from the bathroom right in the middle?”
    “Yeah—”
    “Well, she stole that nail polish.”
    “Stole
it?” Total shock registers on his face.
“Courtney?
But I thought she said she—”
    “She lied.” I punch my hand against the armrest. “Flat-out
lied!
I saw her do it. She was looking at one bottle of nail polish, holding it up in the air in her hand and studying it”—I mimic her action for Scott’s benefit—“and at the same time, she used her other hand to knock a bottle into her purse.Boom. A bottle of ugly orange polish, just like Mat described.”
    Scott lets out a puff of air, then reaches for the dashboard and clicks on the radio. “Wow.”
    I wait a few seconds, just to see if he’s going to say anything else, then say, “That’s your only comment? ‘Wow’?”
    I know I sound like I’m having a major PMS attack, and I know he totally hates dealing with girl drama, but I really need to know his opinion on all this.
    He glances at me, then focuses on the traffic light. Very carefully, he says, “Not that I think you’re making this up—you know I would never think you would lie about something like this—but are you certain about what you saw? I mean, we both know how Courtney is. I would never think of her as the stealing type, even for kicks and giggles. She’s way too honest.”
    “Dead certain.”
    The light turns green, and he hits the gas. “So, if you thought she was shoplifting, why didn’t you say anything to her at the store? Right when she did it?”
    “Because I wasn’t sure she did it.”
    “You just said—”
    “I know what I said.” I inhale, then explain: “I was coming around the corner into the makeup aisle right when it happened, and you know, I just didn’t want to believe it. When she saw me, she put the bottle she was holding back onto the shelf and picked up another one, saying the first one—the one exactly like what she stole—wasn’t quite the right color. She was talking fast and acting all nervous, and then she told me I should hurry up and go buy the lotion I had in my basket because we didn’t have a lot of time. I was so stunned, I just didn’t know what to say. So I went up to the cash register.”
    “And you’re sure she didn’t get in another line while you bought the lotion?”
    “Nope. She couldn’t have. I kept looking behind me to see if she was coming. I would have seen if she was at the other register.”
    As I say this, I picture myself back in the store and try to think of the details of what happened. “And you know what else? When we left, she didn’t have a CVS