Life After Theft. Aprilynne Pike

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СКАЧАТЬ wouldn’t she be taken? She was totally gorgeous and—considering she was at Whitestone—almost certainly rich. Girls like that don’t just wander around single.

      “Enjoy your little trip down fantasy lane, loverboy?” Kimberlee was leaning against my locker looking totally bored.

      Oh yeah.

      But I couldn’t help glancing back at the hot girl again.

      “Trust me; leave that one alone,” Kimberlee said, following my gaze. “She was this total slut as a freshman, but she doesn’t really date now. Probably not even into guys anymore.”

      I looked over at Kimberlee with my best duh face and flicked my head in her direction. “Human tractor over there?”

      “Wait, wait,” she said, laughing. “Him? Mikhail?”

      She would think this was funny.

      “You’re barking up the wrong tree. Mikhail is—” Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes took on this funny look. She sighed melodramatically. “I must be wrong. After all, just because he was dating someone a few months ago doesn’t mean they’re still together. I’m so out of the loop.” She sighed again.

      Was she being sarcastic? I felt like I’d missed something, but couldn’t imagine what.

      “You really better stay away from her now,” Kimberlee continued. “Mikhail could break you in half without even trying.”

      “Just tell me her name,” I whispered.

      “Why?” Kimberlee shot back. “So I can help you keep ‘having a life’?” So much for her whatever.

      “I’m helping you,” I reminded her.

      “Fine,” she said, sounding way more pissy than I thought my request could possibly justify. “It’s Serafina. Serafina Hewitt. I’ll meet you outside of Keller’s class at three fifteen sharp so we can go to the cave. Back out and you’ll be sorry.” She shot a finger gun at me and walked through the wall of lockers.

      AS SHE’D PROMISED, KIMBERLEE WAS waiting for me after school, just inside the front doors. “Finally,” she muttered.

      I pushed open the door and instinctively held it a few seconds to let Kimberlee out. She snickered as she walked by. “Holding the door for your imaginary friend?”

      “That’s only an insult to yourself.”

      She tossed her hair. “Whatever. Where’s your car?” she asked.

      I grinned. I couldn’t help it. A black BMW Z4 con- vertible was my mom’s idea of a good, sensible car. Something about them lasting forever? I turned to Kimberlee. “This way.”

      I headed to the farthest end of the lot, where almost no one parked. The spaces on both sides of my Z4 were empty. That was worth the walk.

      Kimberlee stroked her fingers along the black hood as though she could actually feel something. “I saw this yesterday when I followed you home,” she said, as if following people home was completely normal. “Daddy’s?”

      I put my shades on as I pressed the unlock button on my keychain. “Nope. She’s all mine. Kimberlee, meet Halle.”

      “Halle?”

      It’s not that I’m embarrassed that I named my car, but, well, it’s kind of personal.

      Kimberlee stood outside the door. After almost thirty seconds I rolled down the window. “You coming?”

      “I thought you were going to open the door for me.”

      “I thought I wasn’t supposed to do stuff like that for my imaginary friend.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She slipped through the door and settled in the seat.

      I stared at her, everything I’d learned in physics screaming that this made no sense. “Why don’t you fall through the bottom of the car?” I finally asked.

      “I don’t know,” she said testily. “Why don’t you?”

      I shook my head and put the key in the ignition.

      “Should I put on my seat belt?”

      “Can you?”

      That shut her up.

      “Come on, why Halle?”

      Okay, not completely. “Not telling you.”

      “Spill!”

      I didn’t have the stamina for another battle of wills with Kimberlee. “I named her after Halle Berry. She played Storm in the X-Men movies.”

      “You’re such a nerd. Why her?”

      I could feel my face getting hot. “Well, you know . . . ’cause she’s hot. And black. And my car is hot, and black.”

      Kimberlee smirked. “So you want to ride her all over town?”

      “What? No, it’s a compliment! Like naming a boat! I just—it’s just a stupid . . . Forget I said anything. Can we just drop it now?”

      “Whatever you say, Grand Wizard.”

      I shook my head and started the car. She was just baiting me. Again. How did I keep walking into her traps?

      “You drive like my grandma,” Kimberlee said after a few minutes of inching along.

      “You think that’s an insult? Try harder.” I knew what this car could do. The first week I got it I took a trip to Vegas and made it from Phoenix to the Hoover Dam in just over two hours. My car is fast. And I admit, I roared into school moving pretty quick yesterday, but then I realized the kids here all drive like they’re on crack. Seriously. So after a near miss with a red Miata, I’d decided that slower was better.

      At least until I got out of the parking lot.

      Kimberlee pointed me down several streets, each wider and more stately than the last, until I pulled up in front of a huge white mansion.

      “Whoa, sweet.” Our house was supernice, but this was the kind of house you see on the home-design shows my mom watches. The feature homes.

      “Turn down that little road over there. It’ll take you to the beach,” Kimberlee said, clearly not impressed.

      “Are you sure nobody’s going to arrest me for being here?” Because I was most definitely not sure.

      “Nah. There’s a gate. I’ll tell you the code.”

      I pulled onto the drive on the right side of the house and stopped next to a keypad.

      “Eight-six-four-two-two, СКАЧАТЬ