Death Thieves Page 2

I narrowed my eyes at her and jabbed a finger her direction. “You’re going Stockholm on me, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Her turn to be defensive. “Stockholm syndrome is for people being held hostage, not for people whose relatives are providing food and shelter for them.”

  “You are going Stockholm.” I couldn’t believe she’d gone over to the dark side, defending Mother Theresa. She’d accused me of having the Stockholm syndrome once, back when we were ten and living with the McCoys. She’d heard the phrase mentioned by a teacher at school and applied it to our situation with the couple who acted nice enough when other people were around, and not so nice when it was us alone with them. She felt like I saw too much from their point of view and had forgotten that they often failed to feed us. She’d begged me to get us out of there.

  For whatever reason, the state never left us with nice people for very long and forgot about us when we were with people who were at best neglectful, at worst . . . far worse.

  “I am not. It’s us and just us. Wonder twins forever.” She put her fist to mine and smiled. “Wonder twin powers . . .”

  “Activate.” I finished the phrase and dropped my hand.

  “Anyway,” she said, turning to the closet to rummage for clothes. “We’re not in a hostage situation. You’d save us from that if we were—like last time.”

  I joined her at the closet, looking for something to change into so the signs of mud and errant spray paint could be hidden away until they could be washed without Theresa noticing. “Yep. I’ll save us. And you’ll save everyone else.” It always worked that way. I’d get us out of a home where we were either being starved or beaten or treated like slaves or worse.

  After we were out of danger, Winter spoke loudly of our mistreatment. She complained to anyone who would listen, until the state would be left with no other choice but to investigate the foster home. That way she knew she protected whatever child might have come after us, protected them from what is worse. For us, it seldom actually came to the worse part—the real blessing of being twins. We recognized the signs and banded together to keep worse at arm’s length until the case worker, Alice, would come in her Civic with the missing arm rest and rusted passenger door to pick us up.

  There were times when I went to great lengths to get Alice’s attention. Sometimes it meant breaking the law so the police would get involved. That always got her attention, but I had to stop doing that because Alice threatened to split Winter and me up. Keeping family units together was hard enough without me making it so no one wanted us. The one thing we had going for us was being twins. The state hated to separate twins. I resorted to simple phone calls and the threat we’d run away. We never actually ran. Runners always got split up. They hated runners more than they hated lawbreakers.

  Alice didn’t like me much, but she loved Winter. Everyone loved Winter, which explained why she made captain of the cheerleading team, why she was the lead-role in every single play. Everybody loved her. But no one loved her as much as I did. I’d go to the ends of the universe for my sister.

  Changing clothes turned out to be slightly painful. The blood from my cuts fused my jeans to my leg. I felt bruised and battered everywhere.

  “You look worse than I’ve ever seen you.” Winter winced as I eased out of my jeans.

  “That’s saying something considering—”

  “Considering you’ve got a hickey on your neck.” Winter pointed.

  My hand automatically went up to feel if she was right at the same time I denied making out. “I totally do not! He only kissed me goodnight, on the lips, nothing more!” But when my hand went to my neck, I felt a slight lump there. The spot felt tender as my fingertips traced the perimeter of the lump. “Oh.” I groaned and dropped to the bed, cringing with the motion since there were bruises all over me. “I fell through the throat and bounced into the wall. Lots of rocks were sticking out. I guess one of them got me here, well, I mean, they got me everywhere. They used me as a punching bag.” I met her eyes. “But it definitely isn’t a hickey.”

  “You don’t have to convince me. But how are you going to convince Aunt Theresa you weren’t making crack babies?” She smirked. “Because it really looks like a hickey. It looks like someone squashed a tomato against your neck.”

  I went to the mirror to check it out. “No, no, no!” No amount of cover-up would ever cover it up. “Would a turtleneck look suspicious?” I stretched my neck to inspect the bruise better in the mirror.

  “With Theresa? Everything looks suspicious.” Winter rummaged on her side of the closet, which looked a lot more organized than my side, until she pulled out a light blue blouse with a high ruffled collar. “Try this on.”

  I smiled gratefully. “And what about tomorrow?”

  She laughed. “You can try the turtleneck then. Maybe you’ll be abducted by aliens today, and you won’t ever have to worry about tomorrow.”

  Winter finished getting ready and talked while I stared at the wall, feeling the energy drain from me with every passing moment.

  “Mr. Williams says I have a good chance at the acting scholarship from UW.”

  “That’s great.” Keeping my tone light took effort. How would I ever pay for school? My grades weren’t bad, but they weren’t anything to applaud, either. There were government programs, but I wanted to shake off the need for government assistance as soon as I turned eighteen and Theresa put me out of the house.

  “You should apply for a scholarship, too.” Winter’s words echoed my own thoughts as she wriggled her head through the top of her shirt.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, whatever. You’re the smart one, not me.”

  Winter took her turn to roll her eyes. “No one thinks of the actress as smart. I could never get a biology scholarship, but you could.”

  “Whatever.”

  She made noise in her throat that sounded like those voice exercises before a performance. “You’ve played dumb for so long, I’m starting to worry you believe you are dumb.” She flattened down the little static frizzes of hair all over her head. “Anyway, we should go to Seattle and check out the campus sometime in the next month, once you’re done with being grounded.” She turned to face me, forcing me to open my heavy eyes and smile back at her beaming face. “A scholarship would totally rock, wouldn’t it?”

  “Definitely. And it’d be nothing less than you deserve.”

  “And I, um, need to borrow some money from the pot of gold.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with apology.

  Of course she brought up the scholarship first because she knew I was a sucker when it came to her going to school. “For what?”

  “I want to take a few acting classes—outside of school drama class. I really think I could be a lot better with a little direction. And then, when I audition for the scholarship, the professional classes might make me stand out.”

  “How much?” Because Winter had tons of after school activities, she couldn’t ever get a job. But I worked washing dishes and mopping floors at a dodgy little dinner just off the main highway. The pot of gold was for any just-in-case situations where we found ourselves on our own. We hid the money inside a hole we’d made in the closet floor that we kept covered by padding and carpeting.

  “The classes are sixty dollars an hour, and there are six one hour classes.” She had her smile turned all the way up, though not bright enough to erase the shame in having to ask. She hated borrowing from the pot, knowing I worked hard to keep it full. Though honestly, working was a relief. It got me out of the house several days a week—even when Theresa grounded me.

  “Yeah sure. Go ahead.”

  She hugged me tight. “I’ll pay it back when I get my first job.”

  I waved her off, yawned, and groaned. “I’m too tired to shower and go down for breakfast.”

  She tucked in her shirt and stomped her feet into her tennis shoes. “That happens when you’re out all night. Hey, go back to bed. I’ll tell Theresa you feel sick.”

  “I
already promised not to make you lie for me.”

  “Not a lie. Every time you go without sleep, you do get sick. It’s a verifiable fact. Besides, you cover for me all the time.”

  This statement was not strictly true; Winter never did anything wrong. But I covered her in other ways, like providing money for acting classes so she didn’t have to ask Theresa. Theresa and Paul were living off their retirement, which wasn’t much. Asking for anything felt akin to mugging a homeless person.

  I finally shrugged and put on the ruffle-necked shirt, just in case Mother Theresa came in to check on me. Then I sank back into bed and wrapped myself in the luxury of my blankets.

  When we were seven, someone donated handmade quilts to the state for kids in the foster care system. By giving us the quilts, it allowed us to have something familiar as we moved around from place to place—something we could call our own. The square patches on my quilts all had suns on them. Winter’s was covered in various phases of the moon. The quilts worked exactly as they were meant to. Everywhere we went, the quilts went with us. We would cut off our own hands and leave them behind before we ever left one of our quilts.

  I woke up several hours later, the bruising on my body almost hurting more than before I went to sleep. My stomach rumbled a reminder of missed breakfast while I showered. If we weren’t on time at Theresa’s table, we didn’t eat until the next meal.

  I stood for several minutes longer, letting the hot water run over me until it turned tepid, and grabbed a towel and my robe. I met Theresa in the hall on my way back to my room.

  “Oh good, you’re up, which must mean you’re feeling a little better.” She had a hawkish sort of nose, and eyes too small and spaced too close together to make her comfortable to look at for any length of time.

  “I’m feeling a little better.” I pretended to shiver and pulled the worn collar of my bathrobe higher so it covered the bruise on my neck. “I’m just really tired and have a lot of body aches.” No lies there. I ached. Oh, how I ached.

  She put her hand to my forehead. “Hmm, maybe the flu. We’ll do soup for dinner and see if that helps. Make sure to drink plenty of water so you stay hydrated.”

  I nodded. And shivered again. Theresa believed soup cured disease. The black plague wouldn’t have stood a chance against her garlic soup. Theresa really did seem nicer when she thought we might be sick.

  Once in my room, I heard the garage door opening and closing. The low whine in Theresa’s car engine that made it easy to identify as it backed out of the driveway. Saturday errands. The perfect time to get my painted, bloody clothes cleaned up before she noticed.

  I hurried to the closet, flipped on the light, and shoved aside the hamper lid to dig around in the basket. I frowned and dug deeper, finally removing every stitch of clothing piece by piece until the hamper was empty.

  Panic.

  The clothes were already gone.

  She found them. While I showered. She came in here and found them. She knows I’m faking. “I’m so busted.” Talking to the hamper didn’t help.

  I made my way back downstairs. “Wineve?” I called Winter by the pet name I’d given her when we were barely old enough to talk.

  “What’s wrong?” She turned.

  “My clothes!” The words came out in a hiss between my teeth since I had to keep my voice low. Theresa’s husband, Paul, could have been anywhere, and having him hear my confession of sneaking out guaranteed Theresa would also hear about it. Paul was a good guy, and he definitely liked Winter and me, but his ultimate loyalties went to Theresa.

  Winter shook her head—not understanding. “Your clothes?”

  “Missing. Gone. She must’ve found them.”

  Winter snorted. “She hasn’t been in our room this morning. You are so paranoid sometimes. She didn’t even come upstairs all morning except for that one time to check on you. If she’d have found them, you would’ve heard—she’d be mad enough the whole neighborhood would’ve heard.”

  All this made sense. Theresa never put off scolding or punishment for later. She believed swift action helped us understand the importance of penance. “I put them in the hamper, but they’re gone.”

  “Well don’t look at me. I didn’t take them. It’s your week for laundry.” She turned me toward the stairs and walked with me, keeping her voice low as well. “They’re probably still there. You just didn’t look hard enough.”

  She helped me look when we got back to the room. Together, we tore the room apart. The clothes were missing.

  I expected war when Theresa came home, but she bustled about the kitchen, humming and making garlic soup.

  The clothes were missing, but no one had taken them.

  Chapter Three

  Monday at school, Nathan nearly tackled me in his excitement to see me. “You gotta talk to your aunt. Three months being grounded is lame.”

  I pulled myself away from him so I had a view of something more than his Orting High Cardinal Pride shirt and shrugged. “It’s almost over,” I said. Talking to Theresa about loosening her rules would be like asking a lemon to produce grape juice. Besides, after her mothering me with my fake sickness over the weekend, I felt a little softened toward her. She really could be a decent person when she set her mind to it.

  “Isn’t that Winter’s shirt?” he asked.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Ruffles aren’t your thing.” He picked up one of the ruffles between his two fingers and gave it a little flip as though amused by my choice of clothing.

  I didn’t explain about the bruise looking like a hickey, feeling pretty certain he’d take it as a challenge to give me something real. Growing up the way I had made me wary of guys who marked up their girlfriends like a dog would mark his territory. Too many men had marked up my mother.

  “Makes me wonder if I’ve got the right sister, that’s all.”

  “Trust me. We don’t pull switches like that. Besides, you’re not her type.” The last time Wineve and I pulled a switch turned into a full-blown disaster. The same day the cheer team did pictures for the year book, Winter had found an open audition for some acting company in town. Hollywood had come to Washington to film some huge blockbuster. She asked me to cover for her so she could do the audition. After all, the cheer team was only taking pictures, and I did have her face. At a technical level, the switch should have been easy. And it was—right up until they decided to do the picture in a pyramid with the cheer captain on top.

  Yeah, easy. It looked like a demolition car pileup full of red cheerleader skirts and arms and legs. As everyone untangled themselves, no one doubted my true identity. Aunt Theresa received a phone call, and I got into big trouble for trying to be someone I wasn’t. Winter ducked out of trouble since she got the part and, with it, her Screen Actors Guild card. Theresa and Paul took us to dinner to celebrate.

  Nathan hung his arm over my shoulders as we walked to the lockers. “We’re meeting everyone at the Corner Café for lunch. Come with.” He crossed his arms over his school pride shirt and leaned against Winter’s locker.

  “It’s risky. I’m so close to being not grounded.” I pulled out my biology book and stuffed my English book onto the shelf. “And I usually eat with my sister.” He knew this, which is why it bugged me to have to remind him.

  “There’s room in the car. Bring her.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I slammed my locker shut and swirled the combination dial so it wouldn’t open for random sluffers who raided lockers during class time. “Gotta go.” I swept a quick kiss on Nathan’s lips and hurried to class, sliding into my seat just as the bell rang. Winter shot me a look and flexed her arm while she crossed her eyes. This was sign language for, “The brain-dead monkey man made you late, didn’t he?”

  Before I could defend Nathan or ask about lunch, Mr. Ware started class.

  Biology. We were learning about genetics and DNA. It was the only class that interested me lately. I liked the nature versus nurture argument and hoped that not
everything depended on either nature or nurture since both were in short supply in my life. I hoped, somehow, my own free will factored into the equation, too.

  “Want to go to lunch?” I asked as soon as the bell rang.

  “Go? Where?” She stuffed her book into her already bulging bag.

  “Nathan and a few of his friends are meeting at the Corner Café for lunch. He said we could ride with him. We won’t be late coming back because he has art class right after lunch. You know how he is. He’d never miss that.” I tried to make it sound fun and non-troublemaking.

  Winter stood and slung her bag over her shoulder, making me cringe just imagining lugging all that weight around. “I don’t—”

  “Aw, c’mon, Wineve. Just come with me.”

  She shook her head. “I just don’t think we should today.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What makes today different from tomorrow?” I followed her as she filed out of the room behind the rest of the class.

  The crowd of teenagers buffeted against us as we made our way to Winter’s next class. My next class was on the other side of the school, but I couldn’t wait until lunch to debate whether or not to go. Time would be short enough as it was.

  “I just have a bad feeling about it, that’s all.” Her face looked determined. “I’m not going. You shouldn’t, either.”

  “Okay, now you’re being weird. It’s five blocks. What’s gonna happen?”

  She’d arrived at her classroom door. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel good about it.” She faced me, her eyes fixed on mine. “Don’t go, Summer. It feels wrong.”

  I snorted. “Don’t get all mystical on me, Wineve. It’s just lunch.” Still, she looked so worried and terrified, I gave her a hug. She held me longer than normal, and when I tried to break away, she held a little tighter. “Stay with me, Summer,” she whispered.

  “I’m fine. Five blocks can’t kill me.” I laughed and pulled away.

  She called after me from down the hall, “Please!”

  I turned around, walking backward, since I couldn’t afford the time to stop altogether. “You’re being paranoid! But I love you! Wonder twin powers!” I didn’t wait to hear if she answered back “activate.”