Free Sticky Fingers by Niki Burnham Page A
Authors: Niki Burnham
bag. They always make you take the bag, whether you want it or not.”
“True,” he says, and I can tell we’re both thinking about the time a couple weeks ago when we ran into CVS to grab some batteries and the clerk insisted we take the bag, even though I told him I could put the batteries in my purse.
“Anyway,” I say, “when we walked out of the store, I was hoping I was wrong—that she didn’t knock it in her purse, and that if she did, it was totally an accident and that she saw it and put it back. So I didn’t say anything. But now I know.”
He stares straight ahead, focusing on the taillights of Mat’s car, which is right in front of ours on Route 9. “So just now, when Mat mentioned her new polish …?”
“She figured out that I know she stole it.”
“Unbelievable. Un-freaking-believable. What the hell was she thinking?” He mumbles to himself—I think some of the words are the type that can’t be used on the radio without the station facing hefty FCC fines—and I realize he’s beyond stunned, just like I was. “She must have flipped when she walked up behind you at Bennigan’s, thinking that you were about to rat her out to Mat. Mat would be completelyticked off too—he’s Mister Morality. Like, even worse than you.”
We ride in total silence for a few minutes, then I turn to Scott. “By the way, you know she lied about that whole looking at the cute guy by the magazines’ thing, too, right? That never happened—totaly made up. I think it was her way of warning me that if I tell anyone, it’s going to be my word against hers, and who’s going to believe she shoplifted?”
“I wondered what that was about. I suspected she wasn’t telling the truth, just from her face, but I couldn’t figure out why.”
“Now you know.”
As I stare at the back of Courtney’s head where it’s peeking over the passenger-side headrest of Mat’s car, I let out a long string of four-letter words, which Scott knows is so not me. Then again, I don’t recall ever being so angry or feeling so betrayed.
“She’s the one who did something wrong, but I’m the one who looks bad,” I tell him. “And it’s screwing with our friendship. Plus the fact she was willing to jeopardize my relationship with
you
by hinting that Iwas flirting with some imaginary guy in the CVS … you know, I’m just gonna to have to kill her, and over an ugly-ass bottle of nail polish. It’s just
wrong!”
“Don’t kill her. Give her a few days, and she’ll realize she’s being a bitch.” He shoots me a look of sympathy, then reaches over the emergency brake and puts one hand on my knee. “Really, Jen. I bet if you ignore Courtney for the rest of Christmas break, it’ll freak her out. She’ll start thinking about how she’s been treating you, and she’ll apologize. She won’t risk your friendship over something
she
did wrong. You’ve been friends too long.”
Even as he says it, though, I’m not so sure. “You know I don’t mean it about killing her. But she’s never done anything like this before.”
“Give her a few days, then see. And I hate to say it’s not a big deal, but really, Jen, in the grand scheme of life, a bottle of nail polish isn’t a big deal.”
It’s not really about the polish, though. It’s the lying. It’s the not knowing who Courtney is anymore. Instead of arguing, though, I weave my fingers through his where he has his hand on my knee. “But you believe me?”
“Yeah. You know I do. No comment about you scoping out some fictional drugstore guy is ever going to shake us. Neither will anything else Courtney does or says.” When I work up the guts to meet his eyes, I can see that he’s completely sincere. “Thank you,” I say. I know I should expect him to believe me, but given how my life’s gone lately … suffice it to say, I’m relieved to know I can count on him.
I nod toward Mat’s car. “So what should I do about Courtney tonight? I have no clue how to
“True,” he says, and I can tell we’re both thinking about the time a couple weeks ago when we ran into CVS to grab some batteries and the clerk insisted we take the bag, even though I told him I could put the batteries in my purse.
“Anyway,” I say, “when we walked out of the store, I was hoping I was wrong—that she didn’t knock it in her purse, and that if she did, it was totally an accident and that she saw it and put it back. So I didn’t say anything. But now I know.”
He stares straight ahead, focusing on the taillights of Mat’s car, which is right in front of ours on Route 9. “So just now, when Mat mentioned her new polish …?”
“She figured out that I know she stole it.”
“Unbelievable. Un-freaking-believable. What the hell was she thinking?” He mumbles to himself—I think some of the words are the type that can’t be used on the radio without the station facing hefty FCC fines—and I realize he’s beyond stunned, just like I was. “She must have flipped when she walked up behind you at Bennigan’s, thinking that you were about to rat her out to Mat. Mat would be completelyticked off too—he’s Mister Morality. Like, even worse than you.”
We ride in total silence for a few minutes, then I turn to Scott. “By the way, you know she lied about that whole looking at the cute guy by the magazines’ thing, too, right? That never happened—totaly made up. I think it was her way of warning me that if I tell anyone, it’s going to be my word against hers, and who’s going to believe she shoplifted?”
“I wondered what that was about. I suspected she wasn’t telling the truth, just from her face, but I couldn’t figure out why.”
“Now you know.”
As I stare at the back of Courtney’s head where it’s peeking over the passenger-side headrest of Mat’s car, I let out a long string of four-letter words, which Scott knows is so not me. Then again, I don’t recall ever being so angry or feeling so betrayed.
“She’s the one who did something wrong, but I’m the one who looks bad,” I tell him. “And it’s screwing with our friendship. Plus the fact she was willing to jeopardize my relationship with
you
by hinting that Iwas flirting with some imaginary guy in the CVS … you know, I’m just gonna to have to kill her, and over an ugly-ass bottle of nail polish. It’s just
wrong!”
“Don’t kill her. Give her a few days, and she’ll realize she’s being a bitch.” He shoots me a look of sympathy, then reaches over the emergency brake and puts one hand on my knee. “Really, Jen. I bet if you ignore Courtney for the rest of Christmas break, it’ll freak her out. She’ll start thinking about how she’s been treating you, and she’ll apologize. She won’t risk your friendship over something
she
did wrong. You’ve been friends too long.”
Even as he says it, though, I’m not so sure. “You know I don’t mean it about killing her. But she’s never done anything like this before.”
“Give her a few days, then see. And I hate to say it’s not a big deal, but really, Jen, in the grand scheme of life, a bottle of nail polish isn’t a big deal.”
It’s not really about the polish, though. It’s the lying. It’s the not knowing who Courtney is anymore. Instead of arguing, though, I weave my fingers through his where he has his hand on my knee. “But you believe me?”
“Yeah. You know I do. No comment about you scoping out some fictional drugstore guy is ever going to shake us. Neither will anything else Courtney does or says.” When I work up the guts to meet his eyes, I can see that he’s completely sincere. “Thank you,” I say. I know I should expect him to believe me, but given how my life’s gone lately … suffice it to say, I’m relieved to know I can count on him.
I nod toward Mat’s car. “So what should I do about Courtney tonight? I have no clue how to