Free A Not-So-Simple Life by Melody Carlson Page A

little pathetic. Sort of like trying to buy a friendship—like “do you like me now that you know my dad is kind of famous?” So I didn’t say anything. And it was just as well since customers came in about that time.
June 28
    Today is payday again. And I must say, I have mixed feelings about this day. On one hand, I’m totally stoked When Vivian hands me that white envelope with my check in it. On the other hand, I’m not sure how much of her guilt tripping I can take.
    I thank her as I finger the long, thin envelope, suppressing the desire to rip it open.
    She frowns slightly. “You know, I’m not used to employees who don’t make purchases in my shop, Maya. It hardly seems right.”
    I want to point out that I cannot afford to purchase even a pair of socks from this ridiculously expensive store, but I bite my tongue and just nod in a way I hope looks a tiny bit sympathetic.
    Then Vivian hands Em her paycheck, along with a catty smile. “Some employees have been known to take homeonly a few dollars on payday…but at least their wardrobes improve.”
    I look down at my outfit and realize that it’s not quite as chic as some I’ve worn in the past. I have on an aqua Chloe T-shirt topped with a little black vest from the thrift shop. I’m also wearing a pair of khaki capri pants using an old men’s tie as a belt, and on my feet I have those Prada slides I’ve already worn several times recently. And they are finally starting to feel slightly broken in. I might’ve done better with my clothes except that Shannon has been home for most of the week. A rarity that I should appreciate, but it does put a hitch in my fashion plans when I can’t go closet shopping. Apparently Vivian has noticed. Still, I remain mute. What you don’t say won’t hurt you.
    Then on my lunch break, I go to the bank and make an even larger deposit into my savings. It feels so good to see the amount getting bigger. It gives me hope. I walk back to work feeling slightly lighthearted. Well, until I have to stop and put on my less-than-comfortable “work” shoes. Naturally, that brings me back to reality. But as I go into the back room to stow my purse, Vivian is waiting in the shadows, like a tiger about to pounce. I actually hold my breath as I walk past her.
    “Someone’s been stealing from me,” she announces as I close the door to my locker. A locker that I’m fairly certain she also has a key to. Not that I care. I don’t have anything to hide.
    “Shoplifters?”
    She glares at me, then shakes her head. “No, Maya, this is an inside job.”
    “An inside job?”
    She nods in a sly way. Her eyes look like slits behind today’s red-rimmed glasses, and she stares at me like I’m the one to blame here. And even though I am not the slightest bit guilty, I almost begin to feel I have done something wrong. This is ridiculous.
    “Well, don’t look at me,” I say in a tone I mean to sound light but might sound defensive.
    “I am looking at you.”
    “Why?”
    “Why?”She repeats the word slowly as if she’s chewing on it, like a cat with a morsel of raw meat in her mouth.
    I wait without speaking.
    “Well, I don’t think it’s Em.”
    “And?” I return her stare now. I can play this game too.
    “And that leaves you, Maya.”
    I simply shrug at this accusation. “Well, you can think whatever you like, Vivian. But I haven’t stolen as much as a paper clip from you.”
    She makes a noise that sounds like harrumph, then walks into her office, where I’m sure she’ll carefully go over her precious videotapes. Well, fine. Let her. Maybe she’ll find the culprit. And maybe I was right about Em. Maybe she did take those Diesel jeans after all.
    I tell myself to just shrug it off. The same way I might shrug off Shannon. Vivian will figure out I’m innocent. But even so, I feel angry and indignant as I return to work. As if it’s not bad enough that I’ve compromised my personal values to work here, now I’m suspected of