Life After Theft Page 27


“Langdon? What about Neil? I told you to stay away from Langdon.”

“Neil didn’t invite me—Langdon did,” I replied, still not opening my eyes.

“You lied to me?”

I didn’t even have the energy to dignify that question with a response.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice getting shriller.

“Two words,” I said, groping blindly for the edge of my blanket to pull it over my head. “Special. Guest.”

That got her. Well, for a few seconds. “Langdon invited you as his special guest?” she said quietly.

“Yep,” I said from underneath the comforter. “Thanks for the warning.”

She was silent for a good thirty seconds. I wasn’t convinced I had ever been in her presence for a silent thirty seconds. I hoped she was feeling bad.

“I’m stuck with the loser who got brought out to Harrison Hill to be Langdon’s special guest. I am in hell!”

My eyes popped open and I peeked out at her. “Seriously?” I croaked. “I almost got burned at the social stake and you’re concerned about your reputation? Which, by the way, doesn’t matter because you’re dead?” Maybe we were both in hell.

“Oh sure,” Kimberlee said. “Play the dead card. That’s fair.”

“I’m not trying to play cards. All I’m saying is that you could have warned me that Langdon’s an asshat and told me to stay away from him always, not just when he’s drunk.”

“Hey, Langdon’s a nice guy.”

“No, Kimberlee, he’s not! He’s a sociopath. Anyone who would purposely get someone drunk just to make fun of them is a worthless jerk. Period. End of story.”

Kimberlee snapped her mouth shut and clenched her jaw. For one terrifying moment I thought she was going to start yelling again. Then, for some reason, she burst into tears and left.

I will never understand girls.

Thirteen

WHEN I ARRIVED AT SERA’S, all I could do was sit in my car and stare. This was not a house. It was like a cross between a mansion and a castle. A mastle. Even Kimberlee’s house wasn’t this big.

At the top of a winding walkway I was almost surprised to find double wooden doors instead of a drawbridge. I tried to decide if it was more appropriate to knock or ring the bell and briefly wondered if there would be a butler.

Finally I decided that unless there was a butler standing within about three feet of the door, no one was ever going to hear me knock. I sucked in a breath and touched the glowing white button to the right of the door. Honestly, I expected to hear something like a big gong from inside, but what I actually heard was nothing. I was just starting to wonder if the bell was broken, or if I hadn’t pushed it hard enough, when the doorknob turned.

I was pretty sure it wasn’t a butler, but seeing as how the person who opened the door was a man in a suit—tie and all—I think my momentary confusion was justifiable. We stared at each other for about five seconds before the man raised an eyebrow and asked, “Can I help you?”

And since I’m always cool under pressure I gracefully responded, “Yeah, um, Sera and . . . Is Sera . . . I mean, can I . . .” Finally I thrust out my hand and said with a stupid grin, “I’m Jeff.”

He looked at my hand for a beat before shaking it with a less-than-confident grip. And I don’t mean self-confidence.

“I’m here to pick up Sera,” I said, still smiling like a dork and trying to figure out just who this guy was. Dad? Creepy uncle? And I still hadn’t entirely ruled out the butler thing.

“Oh,” he said, his eyes narrowing. That definitely swung the votes in favor of dad. I irrationally wished I’d worn a tie.

“I’m here!” Sera called from the top of the stairs, hurrying down. Right before her dad’s eyes swung to her, she mouthed I’m sorry to me.

We managed to make it out of the house without too much drama, although Sera’s mom did peer around one of the many doorways to remind Sera to be home by ten. Or at least she said the words “Sera, remember, home by ten,” but the whole time she was staring straight at me.

Once the front door was shut and we were far enough that I was fairly sure that they couldn’t hear us, I asked, “Man, how is it that parents manage to be the scariest creatures on the face of the earth?”

“You’re telling me,” Sera grumbled.

I looked sidelong at her. “They’re scary to you, too?”

“They rule my life.”

I guess she was right, but I never thought about my parents that way. They were cool; always had been. Note to self: I am lucky.

We got into the car and I eased Halle away from the curb. I had a sneaking suspicion Sera’s parents wouldn’t be overly impressed by my peeling out of their pristine cobblestone driveway. “You can, uh, pick whatever you want to listen to,” I said, pointing at the radio.

Without a word she flipped the station to something rock, but not hard, then turned the sound down to an obvious talking level. Excellent.

“So, where do you want to go?” I asked.

“Well, I did say something about a movie earlier today,” she said helpfully.

I fidgeted. “Yeah, but . . . I was hoping we could talk. Last night”—I laughed as I ran my fingers through my hair—“I was in bad shape.” I wondered if it was a stupid move to even remind her. “I just . . . I want to spend some time with you when we’re both on even ground.”

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