Pink ruffles or not, her threat is clear.
Meg tremors. “I’m sorry, but . . . no.”
Wow. Turning down Jolene? Maybe she does have some guts after all.
“I get it.” I walk closer. Time for the good cop. “You’re what, a junior?” I give her a friendly smile. Meg nods. “Exactly. We’ve got college applications coming up; you don’t want to risk everything for someone like Kaitlin.” I pause. “I mean, she’s never done anything to you, has she?”
It’s not much of a long shot. Kaitlin’s done something to everyone.
Sure enough, Meg’s expression hardens, just a little. “Actually —”
I don’t let her finish. “I told you.” I talk over her to Jolene. “I said she’s not the type. She’s a good girl. I bet she’s never done anything crazy like this.”
Jolene tries not to smile. “You’re right.” She sighs. “I don’t know, I just thought she would want . . . never mind.” She shrugs, sending a ripple of pink tulle across her chest. “We’ll find someone else.”
“Someone with some nerve,” I agree. Turning back to Meg, I give her a perky grin. “Don’t worry — we’re good. You can get home now.”
“Right,” Jolene says, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder. “We don’t want you missing curfew.” She starts to walk away, toward the busy highway. I follow, calling back to Meg.
“Thanks for the ride. Enjoy the rest of your night!”
I catch up with Jolene. She’s already counting under her breath. “One, two, three . . .”
“What if she doesn’t go for it?” I whisper, panicked. “These shoes are so not made for walking.”
“Oh, she’ll do it.” Jolene flashes me a grin. “Four, five, six —”
“Wait!”
We turn around. Meg is standing there, keys in hand and a surprised look on her face, almost like she can’t believe what she’s saying. “I’m in.”
She clears her throat and says it again, louder. Determined. “I’m in. For your plan. Tonight. I’m in.”
I should have guessed it from the ice cream. Hot fudge sauce would have shown some promise, candy topping hints at a little spark, and even plain flavor would have been simple and determined. But rainbow sprinkles? Child’s play. By the time we pull up a safe half block away from Kaitlin’s house, Meg is already set to wimp out on us.
“Are you sure you have to do this?” she asks, turning the engine off. She blinks fearfully at the mini-mansions and manicured lawns rolling out around us, a quiet enclave of wealth and obedient household staff. “Just think what will happen if you get caught, all the trouble —”
“We won’t get caught.” I ignore her, turning to Bliss. “You ready?”
She nods, bouncing out of her seat with enthusiasm.
“Then let’s go.” I grab my bag and reach for the car door, but something in Meg’s expression makes me think twice. I remember how I felt at the start, those early days hanging out with boys whose fingertips were always stained with spray paint, boys who could start a car just by reaching under the dashboard, boys who didn’t leave the house without wire cutters and a flask. It was thrilling, sure, but I was terrified, too — that lurch of panic kicking low in my gut. I barely feel a flicker now, but back then, I would wait for sirens, always ready to bolt.
I pluck her purse from between the seats and rifle through for her slim wallet.
“Wait, what are you —”
“Security,” I tell her, holding up her driver’s license with a grin. “You wouldn’t think of driving off and leaving us here, right? Especially not without your license. That would be very bad.”
“Illegal,” Bliss agrees from the backseat. Meg’s face falls.
“I said I’d wait.”
“And now I know for sure that you will,” I tell her, slipping her license in my bag. “Now, keep watch on the driveway, and call me if you see any cars pull up, OK? I’ve programmed our numbers into your cell.”
Meg nods. She’s still resentful, but the protest is gone from her expression. Good girl.
“And keep the engine running,” I add. “We might need to make a quick getaway.”
Bliss is already bounding ahead of me up the sidewalk, like we’re heading to a pep rally, not a break-in. “Chill, Bambi.”
“Sorry.” She drops back, still glowing with excitement. “Kaitlin’s house is just up . . . here.” She falls silent as we reach a huge red-brick house at the end of the cul-de-sac. All the houses in this part of town are look-at-me large, but this one is even