Page 16 of Did You See Evie

“Who?” I say, even though I’m entirely uninterested.

“Ms. Collins. Remember the old science teacher?”

“How could I forget.”

It was the scandal of last school year. Michelle Collins had been at Manning Academy for two years. She had an excellent rapport with the students, volunteered to help with Beta Club, was even nominated for teacher of the year. Her winning streak came to a screeching halt when some of the parents found compromising pictures of her online.

It wasn’t anything pornographic. She’d worked as a cocktail waitress in college at a place known for making their employees wear skimpy uniforms. After the students found the pictures online, their parents lodged several complaints with the school board and administration. Lynette Nichols, Beatrice’s mom, led the charge to get her fired.

Of course, they didn’t give her that reason. They simply said they didn’t want to hire back one of the most exceptional teachers at the school because she hadn’t yet earned tenure. If it weren’t for those photos, it never would have happened.

“Did you talk to her?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “She was working behind the counter at that discount shoe place. I felt so sorry for her. Can you even imagine?”

Kelly takes off down the hallway, leaving me to ponder my own criminal history with a shudder. If the parents at Manning Academy got wind of how bad my behavior once was, I could lose everything. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed.

I won’t secure tenure until the end of next year. I believe Mr. Lake is forgiving enough to understand my circumstances, but the parents, with their pristine lives, would not, and they’d cause enough fuss to make sure I lost my job.

This team and these girls are my whole world. Without them, I have nothing.

What about Connor?a voice inside reminds me.

He only knows bits and pieces about my past. His upbringing was far different from mine. He’s Manning Academy, born and bred. I know he’s in love with the person I am now, not the person I once was. Would knowing the full extent of my past change the way he looks at me?

I need your cooperation on this, Cass.

It’s another text from Nadia. She keeps pushing. Maybe it’s not as serious as I’m making it out to be. Like she said, all I’m doing is opening a door. That doesn’t really make me involved, does it? There aren’t any cameras fixed on that hallway; no one would ever have to know what I did.

I can still remember the first thing I ever stole. A lipstick from a department store. It was right around the time girls my age started getting into makeup. Beauty vlogs were all the rage, and I can remember watching them with a deep intensity, trying to learn all their secrets. Even now, I’m lousy with makeup, but back then, it seemed like a life skill I needed, like I’d be a failure without it.

Problem was, I didn’t have any of the expensive products or tools. Dad and I never had extra cash for that sort of thing, and the cheap drugstore makeup I owned couldn’t compare; it would fade away within hours, it seemed, especially after running laps in practice.

Nadia and I used to go to the mall to kill time, walking up and down, window shopping in all the stores. Occasionally, we’d go inside and peruse the aisles, all the merchandize we’d never be able to afford.

Just for fun, I’d tried a shade from one of the tester tubes. It was a deep brown color, the texture completely luxurious, and it complemented me perfectly. Even the packaging was brilliant. A shimmery gold cylinder that reflected my own face when I looked at it. And it was over thirty dollars. Even if I’d had the cash, I kept thinking about all the other, more important things I could buy with that amount of money.

“I wish I could get this,” I said under my breath. I never meant for Nadia to hear.

“Just take it,” she said.

“What?”

Those fox-like eyes scanned our surroundings. There wasn’t a person in sight.

“Slip it into the sleeve of your jacket,” she said. “No one will even notice.”

“Nadia, I can’t steal. That isn’t fair to?—”

“Since when have our lives been fair?”

Her words pierced right through me, stunning me into silence. Nadia and I didn’t like to talk about how hard our lives were. It was a shared truth we chose to ignore whenever we were together. The more I thought about her question, the more I realized she was right. Neither of us ever asked for the lives we’d been dealt. Nadia’s deadbeat dad. My dead mom.

A gaggle of giggles rang out from a group of girls shopping a few aisles over. We’d seen them earlier. They didn’t go to our school, but they were around our age, decked out in name-brand clothing, likely swiping their parents’ cards to buy whatever they desired.

Without saying another word, I slipped the tube of lipstick into my jacket sleeve and walked out of the store. Nadia followed. We didn’t speak another word until we’d left the mall. I leaned over, hands on my knees, swallowing gulps of humid air in the parking lot.

“I can’t believe I did that!” I exclaimed, staring down at the lipstick in my hand. A thrilling rush came over me, what I imagined it was like to be sucked under by a wave in the ocean, although I couldn’t be sure, because I’d never been.

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