• • •
A week later, the clerk at Abdella’s Liquor Store caught Jon red-handed with a family-sized bag of M&M’s down her pants.
Cady ran.
Two blocks away, she dashed down an alley and rounded the corner, only to realize she was in front of Maxine’s Treasures.
Fearing that someone from the liquor store might be on her tail, Cady ducked into the store. A bell tinkled over the door.
Sitting behind the register was an old woman who nodded to Cady as she walked in. Her head was capped by a stiff-looking helmet of salt-and-pepper hair.Probably a wig,Cady thought meanly, wondering what the woman would look like if Cady snatched it off her ugly head.
Cady smiled to herself, thinking she would make Jon laugh with that story.
Her stomach clenched. She hoped Jon didn’t land in juvie—what would Cady do without her only friend? Also, Jon was going to be mad at her for running—she’d probably get beaten when she went back. But Cady hadtoldher the family-sized bag was too big not to be noticed.
Cady tried to act casual as she looked around Maxine’s Treasures, as though it was typical for her to stroll through narrow aisles crowded with bureaus and side tables, rusty tools and chess sets and carved painted panels. Her gaze fell upon an old magician’s chest, complete with magic wand and a deck of tarot cards.
Where did these things come from?Everything seemed to vibrate with secret stories, with hidden histories.
“All these things belonged to someone once?” Cady asked the old woman from the other side of the store.
No answer.
“Hey, lady?” Cady tried again, raising her voice. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you.” The woman flipped a page of her magazine and, still not looking up, added, “But when addressing your elders, you preface your statement with, ‘Excuse me, ma’am.’”
Cady stared at her for a long moment, enraged on the one hand, intrigued on the other. With an internal eye roll, she channeled a phrase she’d overheard when the group home social worker insisted on watching the entire season of some stupid BBC program from England:
“Excuse me,ma’am. I wonder if you could be so kind as to inform me whether these items are all hand-me-downs?”
Maxine smiled and met her eyes. “What’s your name, child?”
“Cady. Cady Drake.”
“Nice to meet you, Cady. I’m Maxine. In answer to your question: Yes, these items once belonged to someone, or to several someones over the years.”
“Where’d you get them?”
“You’d be amazed at what people throw away. Perfectly good things,” Maxine said. Without changing her tone, she asked, “What you running from, Cady?”
“Nothing,”Cady said. Why did people always assume she was a crook? Did she have “No one wants me but the police” stamped on her forehead? “A while ago you had a carved horse in your window, like from a merry-go-round.”
Maxine nodded.
“I didn’t know you could buy things like that.”
“You can’t, at least not very often,” Maxine said. “That was a nice piece. It wasn’t from a real carousel, just an imitation. Still, I made apretty penny on that one. You’re in the market for a carousel figure, are you?”
“No,”Cady snapped. It’s not like she had any money, or anyplace to put such a thing, for that matter. She had a sudden, humiliating vision of trying to stuff a carved carousel horse into one of her Hefty bags. Anger surged within her, hot and fierce, stomach-churning.
She had to get out. She rushed toward the door.
“Good-bye, Cady,” said Maxine. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Go to hell.”
CHAPTER NINE
