Call It What You Want(74)

“For anyone,” says Rob. “Anyone who needs it.” He hesitates. “It started with this ten-dollar bill that Connor dropped. He wouldn’t take it back.” He nods at Owen. “So, I gave it to Owen. And then the bake sale cash box fell, and I had to help Connor clean it up, so I swiped a couple of twenties, and Owen gave it to a girl who needed it. Then Owen’s mom’s work shoes broke, and she didn’t have a hundred bucks to replace them, and—”

All the breath leaves my lungs. “You’re stealing to help people.”

He grits his teeth and looks away. He looks antsy, fidgety. That’s not him at all. This is really weighing on him.

“You don’t want to do this,” I guess.

“I don’t want any of this,” he says. “I don’t want everyone thinking I’m a thief. I don’t—I don’t want to have to live with what my father did. If I can give something back, then maybe—” He breaks off with a disgusted noise and starts throwing his half-finished lunch back into his sack.

“If you’re not eating that, give it to me,” says Owen.

Rob shoves the food across the table, then jerks at the zipper on his backpack.

“You’re leaving?” I say to him.

“Yeah.” To my surprise, he does. He stands up and stalks away from the table.

I don’t understand anything at all.

Owen picks up the abandoned sandwich. “We weren’t going to hurt anyone,” he says. “You think the bake sale is going to miss forty bucks?”

“That doesn’t make it right,” I say.

“I eat a cheese sandwich every day, but the lacrosse team is getting new sticks because some kids could afford to pay three bucks for a cookie. You think that’s right?”

I open my mouth, then close it.

Owen’s eyes are piercing. “His former best friend beat him up for going to that party. You think that’s right?”

“Wait, what?”

“My mom would lose her job if she didn’t have uniform shoes, but you’re going to get up in arms about earrings someone doesn’t even know are missing?”

“I’m not—who beat up—what?”

“I get why you’re mad,” Owen says. “But to pretend it’s all one side or the other is just stupid.” He polishes off the last of the sandwich, and his voice drops. “You want to come storming over here to call him a thief, go ahead. But sometimes I think everyone needs to take a long look in the mirror before they go making an issue about someone else’s life.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s a little too close to the argument I just had with Rachel.

“He’s not hurting anyone.” Owen grabs his backpack and stands up. “I think he’s trying to undo the harm his father caused.”

I frown. He can’t solve a crime by committing more—but Owen’s words about a three-dollar cookie are lodged in my brain, and I can’t work them loose.

“Think about it.” Owen throws his backpack over his shoulder and turns away. “We weren’t all raised by cops, Maegan.”

Once again, I’m left alone, everyone’s secrets sitting in a pile on my shoulders.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Rob

Dinner is meatloaf and mashed potatoes, which is usually a favorite of mine. Tonight, I wish I could hole up in my room so I could avoid Mom’s prying questions and Dad’s blank stare.

The earrings are burning a hole in my pocket. I drove to a pawn shop after school, but I couldn’t find the nerve to go in. I don’t know if they’d ask me where they came from, but I wasn’t ready to risk it. I’m not a liar. I’m not even a very good actor.

Then again, I’ve got Mom convinced that I’m seeking counseling and I’m working out every day.

At least half of that is true. The cold morning air feels like a punishment. A penance.

She’s not really prying at me with questions more complicated than how was school anyway. It’s my own guilt that makes every word out of her mouth feel like an interrogation. I shovel meatloaf into my mouth and hope that’s enough.

When a lull falls between us, her gaze turns piercing, and I can feel that the topic is going to turn more personal. Before she can pry, I swallow my food and say, “How’s everything going at work?”

She hesitates and gives me a small smile. “Everything is fine.”

“They’re convinced you know the alphabet now?”

“Better than that. They’ve mentioned that they might like to hire me on full-time.”

I glance up. “Really?”

“Yes.” She hesitates. “I’ve developed a good rapport with Gregory.”

I glance at Dad. He clearly doesn’t care. “What—ah, would that change anything?”

“I don’t know yet.” She stabs a piece of meatloaf. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.”

There’s a tone in her voice I can’t identify, but I don’t like the way it’s making me feel. “What kinds of things?”

“Just … things.” Another stab at her meatloaf. “Like—”

A solid knock sounds at the front door.

I freeze.