Death of a Kleptomaniac by Kristen Tracy Read Free Book Online

practice is going awesome,” I say. Because I can’t admit to her how much it actually sucks.
    â€œLooks like it,” Sadie says.
    I lift my head up and really stare at her. And I realize something. That person I used to be. And that person she used to be. They just don’t exist anymore. It’s just like we learned in Sociology last semester. People are evolving all the time. And Sadie Dobyns and Molly Weller have evolved into completely different people.
    â€œYou’re so rude,” I say.
    â€œI was actually trying to be nice,” she counters.
    â€œI didn’t realize being a decent person required focused effort,” I say.
    â€œWhy are you acting like this?”
    â€œI’m sick,” I say. I hurl again. Sadie calmly shuts the water off. I lift my head out of the can in time to see her flick her wet fingers in the sink and pull a paper towel out of the wall unit.
    She doesn’t say anything else. She wads the towel and sets it in the trash can on top of my puke. She walks out of the bathroom and leaves me alone. The hinges release a sad-sounding creak as the door sweeps closed behind her.
    I breathe deeply several times and then splash some cold water on my face. As I lean against the white tiled walls and focus on breathing, I see an earring. It sits on the sink ledge in an indentation intended to restrain a bar of soap. I reach out and finger the cold metal, poking my thumb against the blunt end of the earring’s post. Do I want this? The door swings open and I pull my hand back. It’s Mrs. Pegner, the school nurse.
    â€œAre you okay?” she asks. “We had a report that somebody was sick in here.”
    â€œIt’s me,” I say. “I’m the one who’s sick in here.”
    She nods her gray head and walks to me.
    â€œLet’s get you to the office and call your mom.”
    â€œOkay,” I say. “Wait. Somebody left this.”
    I pick up the gold earring and it dangles from my fingers like a tiny chandelier.
    â€œIt’s a nice one,” she says. “I’ll drop it at the Lost and Found.”
    Mrs. Pegner takes it from me and slips it into her pocket. An intense calm sweeps over me. It’s a more intense calm than when I realized I hadn’t stolen that sophomore’s missing watch. I’m elated. Because I wanted that earring and I didn’t take it. Right now it’s on a journey to a box, where its rightful owner may eventually track it down. Maybe this is my turning point. Mrs. Pegner hooks her arm around my waist and leads me out of the bathroom, around the corner, and down the long, orange, carpeted hallway to the nurse’s office.
    It smells like spearmint mouthwash in here. I wonder why? I swallow. Actually, my mouth feels like it could use some spearmint mouthwash. I look around the room for a bottle of Listerine. The only bottles in here are two plastic two-liter containers of Pibb Zero.
    As I lie on the cot, waiting for my recently phoned mother, I see Tate Arnold. He walks into the room and approaches my cot. With his shirt only half tucked, he looks amazing. And also surprised to see me.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asks. “Did you hurt yourself in practice?”
    He crouches down a little. But not enough. I’m basically looking at his knees.
    â€œNo. Things got a little overheated in the gym,” I say. I’m worried that he’s going to think I’m too sick to go on our date tomorrow. Lying down on a cot during fourth period must make me look ridiculously ill.
    â€œCan I get you anything?” he asks.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI can’t hang around and talk. Party in Calculus. We all passed our exam on inverse trigonometric functions. They sent me to collect the Pibb.”
    I nod. “You’ll need ice,” I say, pointing to the counter. I wish I was at a party. I don’t go to enough parties. My school social calendar relies too much on