Any Red-Blooded Girl (15 page)

“Okay, dear. All set,” she said, smiling like
she’d done me a really big favor. “Just sign
here,
and print
your name, address, and phone number
here,
” she instructed,
pointing out the appropriate spots with a ballpoint pen.

I took a deep breath and tried to return the
same happy-go-lucky smile she’d given me. And while I scrawled out
my life history, she started piling a stack of bills on the counter
next to the cash register.

“You know,” she whispered, leaning over just
a little, “we aren’t supposed to do cash refunds without a
receipt—especially for big-ticket items. But I told my manager it
was for the sweetest little girl, so she approved it,” Grandma said
with a wink.

“Oh. Thank you,” I managed to reply. How
lame.

“So that’s three hundred and twenty dollars
and ninety-nine cents. Do you have a penny, dear, to make it an
even three hundred and twenty-one?” Grandma asked.

Three hundred and twenty-one dollars? Yikes.
I hadn’t expected
that
kind of dough. “No, sorry,” I said.
“I don’t have one.”

“Ah, that’s all right. It’s on me.” Grandma
dropped the coins back into the drawer and pulled out a crisp one
dollar bill. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty…” she counted off until,
dropping the final dollar on the thick stack, she said, “Three
hundred and twenty-one.”

Feeling a powerful, just-won-the-lottery
rush, I chirped, “Thanks a lot.”

“Have a good day, dear,” she said, as I
folded the bills in half and shoved the wad in my shorts.

“You too.”

Well, there’s a first time for everything, I
guess. And all things considered, my first experience with the
returns counter had gone pretty smashing, if I did say so myself. I
mean, the Goofball Goons were bound to be tickled pink, because now
we could eat, gas up, and—most importantly—find Mick. I already
missed him more than any human being should miss another, I
swear.

“Here you go,” I said, chucking the whole
pile of cash through Donny’s open window. “Enjoy.”

At the sight of the loot, Cal smirked. And, I
swear, Donny looked like he was about to either wet his pants or
start licking the bills one by one.

“Good job,” Cal complimented, as I scurried
into the back. “I knew you had what we were looking for.” Before I
could even buckle my seatbelt, he cranked up the SUV and peeled out
of the parking lot.

“Huh?” I said, confused.

“Freshness. Innocence. Believability,” Cal
listed off.

“Okay…” I still didn’t get it.

“Why don’t you enlighten her, Donny?” Cal
said with a sadistic chuckle.

I couldn’t help noticing that we were
cruising back along the same road we’d taken in the other
direction—and away from Mick.

“You just committed your first felony,” Donny
announced matter-of-factly. “How does it feel?”

“What do you mean?!” I cried. I was starting
to get a sick feeling Donny and Cal weren’t just messing with
me.

“It’s simple,” Cal said. “Donny stole that
disc player last week, and we took it out of the box and sold it on
eBay. How much did we get for that anyway?” he asked Donny.

“Hundred and ninety-five.”

“So we got a hundred and ninety-five for
that,” Cal said. “Then we put a decoy in the box, taped it back up
nice and neat, and had our pretty little accomplice here return it.
And you got how much, Flora?”

“Three hundred and twenty-one,” I
mumbled.

“So the total take was a hundred and
ninety-five plus three hundred and twenty-one. That’s round about
five hundred and twenty, give or take,” Cal said. “Not bad for two
days’ work.”

Holy shit. I was a criminal. How had this
happened? My mother had warned me…

“What about Mick? Was he in on this?” I
asked. Just thinking the thought felt like a betrayal, but I had to
know.

Donny laughed a big belly laugh, like I’d
just told the most hysterical joke he’d heard in his whole life.
And he was still doubled over clutching his guts, when Cal said,
“Oh, don’t worry, princess. You can relax. Your perfect little
Prince Charming is completely ignorant. He hasn’t got a clue.”

Knowing Mick wasn’t involved
was
a
relief, but I still had tons of unanswered questions. “Where is he
then? Did he really run away?”

“Mick?” Donny said, still breathing all
ragged from the gut-busting laughter. “I’d imagine he’s just wakin’
up about now.”

Well, that comment must have been the second
funniest thing the Goofball Goons had ever heard, because they both
went wild snorting and cackling like a pair of deranged farm
animals. I, on the other hand, was not amused.

“Take me home,” I demanded. “Back to Wild
Acres. My parents are probably looking for me.”

“No can do,” Cal said. “We’ve got more work
to do. And we’ve still gotta train our new employee.” He shot me a
slick, slimy smile that made me want to spit in his face.

“You’re kidnapping me?” I protested.
“You…you…you can’t do that.”

“More like recruiting,” Cal corrected. “And
whatever happens, you’re gonna keep your mouth shut about it. Got
it? You’re in this as deep as we are now. You’re on camera.
Nobody’s gonna believe your little innocent act anymore.”

“But I
am
innocent!” I screamed. “You
tricked me!”

“Tell it to the judge,” Donny said, taking
obvious pleasure in my freak-out. “We’ve got business to do.”

Yeah, right. Business my ass. These guys were
nothing but scammers. Criminals and scammers. And now I was one of
them. Boy, my dad was going to have a field day with this turn of
events, especially after what he’d said about gypsies being cheats
and thieves. I could already tell he was going to rub this one in
my face, big time.

Seventeen

FOR lack of anything better to do, I spent
half an hour fuming in the backseat (and trying to hatch a getaway
plan) before I could restrain my anger enough to ask a few more
questions of Cal the Creeper.

In the middle of a fascinating conversation
about monster trucks, I interrupted my captors. “What’s my cut?” I
demanded, trying to sound serious and self-assured. “I did the
work; I get paid, right?”

I figured the Goofball Goons probably
wouldn’t believe I’d suddenly become their friend, but maybe they
would believe I was greedy. After all, greed is universal. Even
teenage girls—or should I say
especially
teenage girls—want
stuff. And I was no exception.

“Fifty?” Cal offered uncertainly.

Donny grimaced, like he thought they
shouldn’t give me anything. Like he thought I was some kind of
slave. Like he thought they owned me.

Ooh, I sensed weakness. Divide and conquer.
“No way!” I half-whined, half-shouted. “I did most of the work. I
took the risk. I want fifty percent.”

“Are you wacko?” Donny spat, spinning around
to glare at me. “The only reason you’re here is ’cause you’re a
juvie. If
you
get caught, you get a slap on the wrist.
Community service or some bullshit. Me and Cal,
we
do
time.”

“Ain’t my problem,” I said with a shrug. “I
just want my share. You need me, remember?”

Cal sighed. “All right, a third. We’ll split
it even.”

Donny looked totally pissed. I mean, if he
could have shot steam out of his ears like they do in cartoons, I’m
sure he would have. But for some strange reason, he didn’t argue
with Cal. I was starting to get the impression Cal was the brains
of the operation (which was a stretch by any definition of the word
brain
) and Donny was the muscle (which was also a stretch,
since he was mostly composed of blubber).

I shoved my hand between the seats, like I
was expecting an immediate payout on my share of the loot. “Let’s
have it,” I said.

“After the next job,
maybe,
” Cal said.
“We’ll see.”

“Hey! Hey! Pull over!” Donny squealed, poking
a chubby finger out the window at a run-down gas station. “I’m just
about starved.”

I never would have admitted it, but I was
getting pretty hungry too. And I was also starting to obsess about
two very important things: First, did my parents know I was gone
yet? And second, was Mick looking for me?

“Eh, whadda ya think
you’re
doin’?”
Cal barked, as we bounced to a stop in front of the gas pump. I
guess he’d noticed me popping the back door open.

“Me?” I asked innocently. “Nothing. Just
getting something to eat.”

“No, you’re not,” Donny said. “You ain’t got
no money, and you’ve gotta stay out of sight. Tell me what you
want, and I’ll get it.”

Well, at least he had pity on the hungry.

I clicked my door shut
.
“A Twinkie?” I
pondered aloud. “Ooh! Ooh!” I squeaked, as he exited the vehicle.
“And a Yoo-hoo.”

“A Twinkie
and
a Yoo-hoo?” he
repeated, like I’d asked him to mainline some heroin into my
jugular. “It’s your funeral,” he said, shaking his head as he
walked away.

So while Donny and Cal shopped for snacks in
the mini-mart, I rolled my window down and hung my head and arms
outside. I must say, it was a good thing the Goofball Goons weren’t
up for criminals of the year or anything, since they’d left me
unrestrained in an unlocked vehicle. I mean, it wasn’t like I
couldn’t have escaped if I’d tried. In their defense, though, there
was really nowhere to go except inside the mini-mart, so I guess
maybe they’d given their plan at least a shred of forethought after
all.

“Here you go,” Cal said, tossing a Twinkie
toward my lap. Instead of landing the jump, though, the thing just
bounced off my knee and dropped to the floor. It figured.

“Thanks,” I reluctantly replied, rescuing my
breakfast from the ground and flicking off all the obvious floor
scum. How delicious.

“There’s no Yoo-hoo, so I gotcha this
instead,” Donny said, shoving a bottle of chocolate milk at me over
his shoulder.

I don’t really like milk of any kind,
including chocolate, which I know sounds illogical coming from
someone who loves Yoo-hoo. But at least Donny got points for
picking Hershey’s. I mean, since I’m from the great state of
Pennsylvania—the home of all things Hershey—I’ve developed quite an
interest in their products (chocolate kisses, mostly) and, of
course, their amusement park.

After scarfing down the Twinkie in four or
five bites, I asked, “What’s next?” Honestly, I was hoping to move
the Goofball Goons’ lame plan along, so I could see Mick one last
time before he left me forever.

Cal was driving with one hand and shoving a
breakfast burrito down his throat with the other. “Well, Donny’s
gotta lift something first,” he explained, spitting chunks of food
onto his shirt as he spoke. “Then you’re gonna do the same thing
you did this morning: make us some easy money.”

“And after that?” I asked, trying to gauge
how detailed their plan really was.

Before Cal could respond, Donny sputtered,
“Ain’t that enough work for one day? We gotta be careful. If we do
too much too quick, they’ll grab us for sure—even
with
our
secret weapon,” he said, smirking at me.

Me?
I
was their secret weapon?
As if
.

“Have you guys ever been caught?” I asked,
partly out of curiosity and partly out of self-interest. After all,
maybe if the Goofball Goons had a successful track record, I
wouldn’t end up getting nabbed either.

“Only as juvies,” Donny reported. “We were…
What’s the word…?” he contemplated, with every brain cell in his
possession. “
Careless
. Yeah, we were careless back then. Got
caught once for lifting at a K-Mart. But that was before we
discovered the internet. Now we’ve gone pro.”

I giggled slightly at the idea of the
Goofball Goons
going pro,
like they’d been drafted into the
NFL or something.

“Uh-huh,” I said with a big yawn. “Wake me up
when we get there. I’m exhausted.”

I settled into a big stack of cardboard boxes
for a catnap, my second favorite pastime after making out with my
sexy boyfriend, of course. And since the Goofball Goons were
blathering on and on with no end in sight, I was
this close
to demanding some quiet me-time, when I realized they thought I
already
was
asleep.

Cal lowered his voice a little, but not
nearly enough so I couldn’t hear. “I told you she’d never figure it
out,” he said. “Which means nobody else would’ve either. So next
time, don’t panic, okay?”

“I don’t know,” Donny muttered. “It’s not
just getting caught. It’s that…
That’s people’s stuff,
you
know. I don’t like takin’ people’s stuff.”

“What’s the difference? If some idiot leaves
two brand new I-pods on the front seat of his van, I say he
deserves to lose ’em,” Cal declared.

Suddenly something clicked in my mind: Mick’s
cousins had tried to rob our neighbors at Tupelo-8 or Tupelo-10,
depending on how the numbering system went at Wild Acres. And
I
had scared them off. It was them all along. It
figured.

I was
so
tempted to inform Donny and
Cal that their little secret was out of the bag, but the nosy
gossip-hound in me couldn’t help eavesdropping for more dirt. So
for a while longer, I played dead, hoping for something else I
could use against my captors. Unfortunately, though, all I
overheard was some gross guy-talk about this girl Morgan’s nice ass
(gag me!) and details of how the Goofball Goons wanted to pimp
their ride with some sweet woofers and tweeters—whatever the hell
those are. And just when I thought I’d die of disgust, Cal swerved
off the road into a parking lot.

“Geez, nice driving,” I complained in the
best just-woke-up voice I could fake. “I’m trying to sleep
here.”

“Nap time’s over,” Cal said. “We’re going to
work.”