Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(32)

I veer into the room where she and Uncle Samuel are watching the news. Well, she’s watching the news; my uncle is lips deep in a beer and reading something on his phone. He’s supposed to be drying out; that’s usually the rule when he comes to stay with us.

“I think someone was following me.” Correction, I know someone was following me, but I can’t prove it.

My mother is off the couch and across the room to me in record time. “Are you sure? Did you recognize him? Did he follow you here?”

“No.” I use the one word to answer all her questions.

“No?”

“I didn’t recognize him, and I lost him before I came home.”

“Come. Sit. Tell me what happened, Marisol.” She wraps an arm around me and leads me over to sit on the couch.

I obey, telling her and my half-interested uncle about the guy who might have been following me on the way to my date, and then relaying the details from this afternoon. When I finish, she asks, “But you don’t know if it was the same man?”

I shake my head.

“Sounds like you’re letting your worries get the better of you,” my uncle announces. My mother’s look is skeptical, but she doesn’t argue.

“I guess maybe,” I say. I’m starting to feel a little crazy now. “I’m gonna go rest, I think. Maybe I’ll feel better after I calm down.” I won’t, but I say it to placate my mother and uncle. The anxiety, the fear that this guy might really be after me, is a permanent thought in my brain now. A nap isn’t going to make it go away.





Chapter Fourteen


A knock on my bedroom door pulls my attention away from my window and the street below. I’ve been parked on my window seat for at least an hour, just people gazing. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. In truth, I can’t shake the feeling that if I look hard enough and long enough, I might spot that guy down there. I’m being silly, I know. Even if he was following me, he didn’t follow me home and probably doesn’t know where I live.

When I look up, my uncle is standing in my doorway—empty-handed. He must be about to make a beer run, I think, then mentally kick myself for my bitterness. It’s not his fault any of this has happened.

“Marisol, you cannot sit here sulking all day.” His voice is crisp and clear, his words not at all slurred.

“I’m not sulking,” I say sulkily.

“Worrying, then,” he corrects. “If you are that worried about what might be outside your door, then let’s prepare you.”

“What do you mean?” I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going with this, but I want him to clarify anyway.

“Let’s dust off your martial arts training. I’m sure you’re rusty after all this time. Come on.” He turns and heads down the hall like he expects me to run along after him.

He’s probably right, though. It’s been years since I took classes, and I’ve never had to apply my learned skills in real life. I wait only a minute before following him down the hall, but when I get to the living room, he’s already pushed the furniture away from the center of the room, leaving the area rug as a makeshift sparring mat.

“Oh, you’re in trouble when my mom sees this!” I tease.

“When Mom sees what?” As if conjured by my words, my mother steps into the room and looks around. Her expression is neutral, but she breathes an exasperated sigh. “I’m going grocery shopping. This will be cleaned up before I get back, sí?”

My uncle and I both nod in unison, like chastised children.

“Bueno,” she says and comes over to kiss me on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I call after her as she heads to the door.

“Now, I’m going to try to attack you,” he tells me as soon as she’s gone, and takes up position at one end of the rug, “and you’re going to fight me off.”

I take up a defensive stance at the other end. I’m barely in place before Uncle Samuel comes at me.

The first time, he catches me unprepared and takes me down easily. The second time, I’m not quite such easy pickings. By the fifth time, I’ve got a good system down, and it’s Uncle Samuel who ends up facedown on the mat with his arm tucked behind his back and my knee in his spine.

The doorbell rings before he can make a sixth attempt.

“I think you could use a break anyway,” he says, but it’s most likely an attempt to save face. He’s the one who’s out of breath and getting worse with each new round.

“You might be right.” I give him the out and go to answer the door. Will’s standing on the other side when I open it.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I return. “What are you doing here?”

He holds up my shadow picture from photography club. “You forgot this yesterday. I thought it might be important to you and I should bring it over instead of waiting till Monday to give it to you.”

“Marisol, who is your friend? Invite him in!” My uncle comes up behind me and pulls the door fully open. Then, to Will, he says, “Come in, come in. Do you know Mari from school?”

“Yes, sir,” Will answers, and lets my uncle lead him into the living room.