Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(31)

Now it’s my turn to blush. “Oh, it’s not very good. I’m just learning the ropes.”

“Learning the ropes? She’s a natural. Her shadows photo was amazing.” Then to me she says, “Show him, Mari.”

All three of them watch me with matching expressions of expectation. I cave easily, sliding the picture I chose to show at club today out of my bag and setting it on the table in the middle of our chair circle. The picture actually has Will’s shadow in it, too. I want to watch his reaction, but I also don’t want to. The reclusive side of me wins out, and I direct my attention out the window while Trin and Lacey ooh and aah over the picture and Will agrees.

I’m not really looking at anyone or anything in particular outside the window, just staring into space. Until something catches my eye across the street and partway down the block. A man in a thick gray puffy coat and dark hat and sunglasses rests on a bench reading a newspaper. Or at least pretending to read the paper. His head is turned at too awkward of an angle to be directing his attention down in front of him. In fact, it’s almost like he’s looking this way. At me.

My suspicion is driven home when he’s quick to turn his head straight and go back to his paper. And I’m suddenly on high alert. I watch him carefully, looking him over from head to toe for any hint of who he might be or why he’s watching me. Nothing about him is familiar. Except his coat. It’s remarkably like the one the man who followed me on Valentine’s Day was wearing. Could this be the same guy? How long has he been tailing me and I haven’t noticed?

I try to maintain my composure, but inside I’m having a full-on nuclear meltdown. I had pretty much convinced myself that Valentine’s Day was a fluke, just some Joe Rando heading the same direction I was. I told myself I was paranoid, that all the stress of running from Petrov had melted some synapses in my brain or something.

But maybe I’m not paranoid. Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m in danger.

I stand so quickly my chair slides into the wall behind it from the force. Trin, Lacey, and Will all startle and turn to gape at me in unison.

Excuse. I need a good story so they don’t think I’ve totally lost it. “I, uh…forgot I was supposed to be home right after school. I had plans…with my mom.” I gather my stuff and refuse to make eye contact with anyone as I lie to them, and I’m almost to the door by the time I finish speaking. I don’t wait for anyone to respond. “See ya later,” I call as I shoot out the door and jog away from the shop.

I doubt they bought my story, but I have more important things to worry about right now. Like losing my tail and getting home safely. Part of me wants desperately to stay with my friends. After all, there’s supposed to be safety in numbers. But if I stay, I won’t be able to lose this tail without my friends figuring out we’re being followed—which is a can of worms I’m not prepared to open right now. Or ever. And I certainly can’t let this guy follow me—or any of us—home. I have only one option left: get him to follow me a safe distance away from my friends and then lose him. And pray like mad that they leave the coffee shop before he has a chance to double back for them.

I race for the street corner and make it just as the light changes. I breathe a sigh of relief at my fortunate timing and head out into the crosswalk with the handful of other pedestrians, but I quickly leave them in my dust as I race toward the potential safety of the alcoved doorway of the apartment building several yards ahead. I slow my pace as I approach and nod to the doorman like I belong there before entering the lobby. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I press myself flat behind a nearby marble-tiled column and wait.

The door swooshes open and heavy footsteps track inside. I’m certain it’s my mystery pursuer.

The twentysomething guy behind the concierge desk eyeballs me, and for a moment I think he might be about to give me away. Taking care to keep my movements slow and silent, I raise a finger to my lips and plead with my eyes for him to keep my secret. Something in my expression must get through to him because he nods almost imperceptibly and looks away from me in the direction where I assume the other guy is. “May I help you, sir?”

“Yes, I’m apartment 4A. Do you have a package for me?” The voice that responds is smooth and friendly. A resident.

“No packages today, sir.” To his credit, the guy behind the counter doesn’t do anything to let on that I’m there, but the footsteps plod a few paces forward and pause just on the other side of the pillar I’m hiding behind.

“I guess I’ll check back tomorrow. Thanks.” The man passes the place where I’m hiding to head to the elevator. He’s dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with rich leather loafers and carrying a matching briefcase. No puffy coat, no hat and sunglasses.

I shimmy around to the next side of the column, and I begin taking carefully placed steps backward toward the exit.

When I get to the door, the doorman sees me through the glass and opens it for me. I slip through and make a slow perusal of the surrounding area. I don’t see the strange guy anywhere. I take off at a brisk jog toward home, looking over my shoulder every few steps, but my tail never reappears.

I’m out of breath when I get home, and the elevator ride to my floor does nothing to help me calm down. I’m still a little panicked when I get into my apartment, and my mom notices as I pass the living room. “Mija, what’s wrong?”