Sold Out Read Free Page A

straighten me out on this particular one.
    Okay, this is what happened. Marissa and Allie and I are walking through the mall, nothing out of the ordinary. We’ve already stopped by the food court to split a calorie-laden cinnamon roll; hopefully all those carbs divided by three won’t hurt us too badly. And now Allie’s searching for the perfect T-shirt, whatever that might be. But so far nothing’s working for her.
    We’ve just entered about the fourth store—Madelyne’s—a pretty cool clothing store with a good selection of urban styles. Allie and I usually find something pretty rad there. Anyway, we’re just walking around looking at the new summer stuff and wishing the weather would cooperate a little. While Allie’s rummaging through a rack of new T-shirts, Marissa and I are messing around, acting goofy and joking about an ugly new style of jeans.
    Then Marissa starts playing with a basket of thongs—and I’m not talking about foot apparel. She pretends like a hot pink thong is a rubber band, like she’s going to shoot me with it. Pretty funny. Then when I think she’s putting it back, she scoops up a big handful of the stupid stringy things and with a completely straight face just stuffs them right into her sweatshirt pocket. Like it’s no big deal.
    Well, I’m speechless. I immediately glance around to see if anyone’s looking or if there’s a surveillance camera or anything. I’m not even sure why I do this. Although looking back now I must admit it’s probably because I remember that anxious feeling—wondering if you’ll get caught. And that’s because I stole a pair of black leather gloves once. It was from this really nice department store that my mom likes to shop at, back when I was in middle school.
    Don’t ask me why I did it. It’s not like I didn’thave any money. Who knows how our adolescent minds work? Oh, I probably thought I was being cool, tough, daring even. I was by myself at the time, and I never even told anyone about it—never actually thought about it much until today. But now I’ve decided that I’m going to put some money in an envelope (the price of the gloves) and put a note with it and just drop it off at the store.
    But back to today. So, feeling a little stunned, I make this face at Marissa, a face that I’m sure says: “What the crud do you think you’re doing?” But she just laughs at me, then turns and walks right out of the store. Done deal. So now I’m suddenly faced with this dilemma. What to do? Turn her in? Force her to come back? So I go over and find Allie, grabbing her by the arm.
    “Come on,” I urge.
    “Huh?”
    “Come on.” I nod toward the door.
    “What d’you mean?” I can tell she thinks I’m nuts. “I just found a style I like, and I want to try it on to see if it—”
    “You can come back later.”
    “But they only have one—”
    “Come on!” I take the T-shirt out of her hand, hang it back on the rack, then tug her toward the door, and we quickly exit the store.
    “What on earth is wrong with you?” Allie looks seriously ticked.
    “It’s Marissa.” I glance down the mall to spot Marissa sitting complacently next to a big palm tree planter. “She lifted some thongs,” I whisper, like the FBI might be tailing us.
    “Thongs?” Allie looks puzzled now. “Like rubber thongs?”
    I roll my eyes. “No! Like underwear. The point is she just grabbed a handful, shoved them into her pocket, and walked out.”
    Well, now Allie starts laughing wildly, and frankly I don’t see the humor here. “What is so funny?” I ask as we approach Marissa, who’s looking pretty pleased with herself.
    “You. You are acting so totally weird.”
    “Me? What about Marissa? What she did was wrong.”
    Allie nodded. “Yeah, I know that. But I swear, you’re acting just like Laura right now.”
    Now I’m not quite sure how to react to this little comment—earlier it would have irritated me a lot—but right now I’m thinking, “Fine,