Free Death of a Kleptomaniac by Kristen Tracy Page B

imminent arrival while facing the potential euthanizing of my cat. Love and death don’t go together. They just don’t. I take the ice cream off the toaster and dump it into a bowl. Then I take a piece of paper and write my name as legibly and sexily as possible: Molly Weller . After covering it in clear packing tape, I place it in the bottom of the pint. Using a black pen, I write the instructions on the inside of the lid: You’ll have to eat it all if you want to go to the Sweetheart Ball with …I hope after he reads it he doesn’t hesitate with his answer. I imagine one word falling out of his mouth over and over: Yes. Yes. Yes.

After putting the ice cream back in the freezer and reassuring myself eighteen times that Ruthann can’t kill my cat, I am still freaked out that this might actually happen. The stress inside me continues to build. Tate will be here any minute and my mother isn’t back yet. My mind won’t stop, and begins to play a motion picture of my future. After killing Hopkins, Ruthann kicks me off the squad. I’m isolated. Rejected. Alone. I consider dropping out of high school. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. A mountain getaway with my long-term crush should scream ROMANCE, not ANXIETY.
    I try my hardest to put the Hopkins fear in a box. Then I go to my bedroom and fluff my hair for the twentieth time and make sure that I’ve got breath mints in my purse. Some things in life are beyond my control, but my breath is not one of those things. If I do kiss Tate, I want it to be like my kiss with Henry. When his lips met mine, everything in the world dissolved except for us. And then it was as if we were collapsing into each other. It was so amazing. I think about it. And think about it. I really need to stop thinking about it.
    When I hear my mother pull into the garage, I’m relieved, but also worried. I don’t want to tell her about the Hopkins situation. I return to the kitchen. Addressing the Hopkins situation might unhinge me all over again. I’m not going to bring it up. But when my mother enters the house carrying my boots, she looks upset. She must know.
    â€œI’ve already heard,” she says. “Judy Culpepper called my cell.”
    â€œCan we talk about it after my date?” I say.
    â€œShe claims that Hopkins committed an unprovoked attack against her daughter,” she says.
    I guess we are going to talk about it before my date.
    â€œWhat are we going to do?” I ask.
    She sets her purse down on the counter and hands me the boots. They look like they’ve got cow crap on them.
    â€œI told her we’d pay for any medical expenses.”
    I shake my head. “All she has is a few stupid scratches.”
    â€œReally? On the message her mother said that Hopkins severely bit her thumb.”
    â€œShe squeezed him too tightly. And then she hit him! And then she tried to steal him. She’s crazy!” My face feels hot, and I’m shouting.
    â€œDon’t yell at me. This isn’t my fault. You’re the one who dropped Sadie and picked Ruthann, out of all the possible friends in the area.”
    I don’t want to talk about Sadie, so I focus on Ruthann. “I didn’t know she was crazy,” I say.
    â€œThey usually don’t wear signs.”
    Hopkins doesn’t like all this hubbub. He walks into the room and then leaves.
    â€œWe’ll talk it over with your father.”
    â€œShe wants to have him euthanized.”
    My mother rolls her eyes. “I doubt it will come to that.”
    Except for using the word doubt , she sounds pretty certain. This calms me. I sit and slide the boots on one at a time. They’re snug, but I think they’re supposed to be. My mother reaches down and brushes my bangs off my forehead. This is my chance to open up and tell her a little bit about what’s going on with Joy and Ruthann. And fill her in on the nut shop story. The firing. But I