Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(12)
And it’s working. “Well, come on then. Lag behind and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself.” I pick up the pace for effect, rushing out the front doors and skipping down the large stone steps to the sidewalk. He lands on the sidewalk a moment after me, and Nicky is all but forgotten back at his locker as we turn in unison in the direction of my apartment building.
“How are you settling in?” His voice is tinged with genuine interest, and I catch myself wanting to let my guard down, to tell him exactly how much I’m not settling in, how lonely I am, how much I want to make friends but can’t shake the fear that my past will catch up with me and everything will blow up in my face.
“Okay. It’s different but good.” I think about asking him about himself, and eventually after we’ve walked hundreds of miles in silence, I manage, “Do you like living here?” Do you like me? I want to ask, but I keep that last question to myself.
“I do. Sometimes, I think it might be nice to live out in the country somewhere and have lots of fresh air and open land. My aunt and uncle have a few dozen acres upstate, and we go there to visit sometimes. It’s great, but after a week or so, I’m ready to get back to the city. Ready for corner pizza joints, my favorite coffee shop, and friends around every corner. Sure, the city is crowded—”
“And smelly,” I supply, wrinkling my nose teasingly.
“And smelly.” He chuckles. “But it’s home.”
I haven’t been here long, but I’m already starting to feel the same. The longer I’m in New York the more I see the appeal. We walk in peaceful silence the rest of the way, kind of like we did this morning.
We’re half a block from my place when Will tips slightly into a mock bow. “And this is where we part ways, flower. I’m two blocks that way.” He points down the street to his left. “Meet you here tomorrow morning?”
I don’t know why I do it, but I nod my assent. Will winks at me and turns on his heel to jog down the connecting street. I watch him go until he turns and catches me staring. Then, I head for my building without giving him a second glance.
Once I’m up in my apartment and have traded my school clothes for baggy sweats and fuzzy slippers, I settle on my window seat, determined to pick a club to join. I unfold the paper and scan the list that’s twice as long as I would have expected. There’s a bicycle club? I had no idea that was even a thing. It’s not my thing; that’s for sure.
French club? No, definitely not. I don’t need a reminder of everything I just went through and everything I’m trying to leave behind.
Book club sounds interesting, but I’m looking for something more interactive, something that isn’t a solitary sport.
I scan further down the list, past knitting club and cooking club and so many others, and settle on something I think I could get into. Photography club. Photography seems like a fairly quiet activity. One where I wouldn’t be the center of attention, could in fact hide behind the camera. I do have a little experience with photography from a reconnoitering perspective, prepping for jobs and all. And it meets tomorrow after school. That’s about as soon as soon could be.
What sort of equipment would I need for that? Where some of the clubs have supplies listed, this one doesn’t. A camera probably. Which means I’ll need to check with Mom about taking one of the “working” cameras we use for prep work on jobs. Used—past tense, I mentally correct myself. We don’t pull off heists anymore. And just that thought is enough to leave me feeling lighter. I’m suddenly looking forward to regular old photography club very much.
I fold the list and tuck it into the front pocket of my backpack. Tomorrow afternoon can’t get here fast enough.
…
As promised, Will is waiting for me at the corner when I arrive the next morning, and with two steaming cups of coffee in hand. The charmer. He holds one out to me when I’m within arm’s reach. “I didn’t know what you like”—he pauses and looks uncertainly at the cup—“or if you even like coffee.”
Until now, Will has seemed to have nerves of steel. But for the briefest of seconds, his cool facade cracks, and I see a boy trying to impress a girl. Is he really this into me, this quickly? Insta-love only happens in fiction. I don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s really into me or just trying to get in my pants, but I really hope it’s the former. Because I’m sure starting to fall for him already. Just the idea of being with him is enough to set a nervous tickle in the pit of my stomach and heat my cheeks.
I duck my head to hide my blush and take the cup he’s offering me. “Coffee’s great. Thanks.”
He watches me until I take a sip, as if he’s not quite sure he can trust that I do in fact like coffee. It’s sweeter than I like, but overall, it’s not the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted. And it certainly takes the edge off the morning chill. I take a second sip, and a third. By the time we get to school, I’m holding an empty cup.
“Whoa! This is getting serious. I’ve never seen Will walk the same girl to school twice. I think our boy’s in love, Anton.” Before we get to the front steps, Nicky bounces onto the sidewalk in front of us.
“Make a habit of walking girls to school, do you?” I keep my tone light and teasing, but deep down, I’m a little disappointed that this is something he does regularly with other girls.