Harmonic Feedback (16 page)

Naomi tore a silky black slip from a hanger and held it against her body, fingering the plastic security tag. “What do you think? Pair it with some thigh highs maybe?”

I checked the price. “It’s almost fifty dollars.”

She leaned into my ear. Her breath smelled like mint gum and cigarettes. “No worries—they’ve got the cheap non-ink security tags here. Easy to remove.”

“Can I help you ladies with anything?” a girl with bleached teeth asked. She eyed Naomi from head to toe, pausing on her baggy jeans.

Naomi grabbed a pink gauzy thing and what looked like a doll gown off the rack. “Yeah, can you start a fitting room for us?” She handed the garments over to the clerk.

“Certainly—two rooms?”

“We can share,” Naomi said.

The girl scanned me up and down before flashing a quick smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She walked away.

“Okay, bitch,” Naomi whispered. “Did you see the way she looked at us? It’s why I don’t feel bad ripping them off.” She glanced at the other clerk before stuffing the black slip down her jeans. “I just wish this place was busier. It usually is on Saturdays.”

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh.” She looked over her shoulder before cramming a white lacy slip down the other side of her jeans. The oversized band T-shirt she wore covered the bulge.

Mom said she’d never resort to stealing. Even if that meant living on gas-station food. I picked up a silky corset with fraying laces—$110. “I could make this stuff for a lot cheaper. You don’t have to steal anything.”

“I was going to ask if you made your clothes,” she said in a louder voice. “They’re really awesome.” The salesclerk who’d started our fitting room had come back out. She straightened racks a few feet from us.

“Kinda have to—not much fits me otherwise.”

She nodded at my white skirt. “Did you make that?”

“I added the lace hem to this one.” I leaned closer to her. “Put them back, Naomi!”

She put her finger to her lips, her eyes widening. “So what do you think Justin would like? I’m betting on something innocent.”

Heat ran up my neck at her words. “Do you really think he likes me that way?”

“I swear, Drea. Sometimes you act like you’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

“I’ve had plenty of boyfriends.” My pulse throbbed through my ears and my fingers ran cold. She’d caught me.

“And didn’t you have to make the first move with at least a couple?” She took my hand, pulling me toward the fitting rooms. “We’re ready,” she called over to the clerk.

The salesclerk smiled. “Okay, let me know if you need a different size.”

We squeezed into the fitting room. It smelled like roses and sweat.

Naomi pulled the white lacy slip out of her jeans and tossed it at me. “This will look so good on you. Sweet and sexy.”

I unraveled the light material. A pale ribbon swirled around the high waist, and it was barely long enough to cover my butt. What exactly did she expect me to do with this? “How do I act like I’ve never had a boyfriend?”

She took off her T-shirt and gave me a sidelong glance. “Mostly, it’s the way you act around Justin. You blush a lot—and you get all shy and giggly.”

“He’s different from most guys I’ve been around.” At least that much was true.

“I figured. Were most of them jerks?”

“Yeah.” I thought back to some of Mom’s boyfriends. “A couple drank a lot, and they’d get violent and break stuff sometimes. One of them stole our—my money and gambled it all away.”

Naomi smoothed the black slip over her baggy jeans and raised her eyebrows at me. “Like, online?”

“In Vegas.”

“Was he older?”

Oh, crap. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “I’ve dated a couple older losers too.”

“Like Scott?”

“He’s really sweet when we’re alone together. Oh my God, I didn’t tell you what he did last night.” Naomi’s cheeks practically glowed as she twisted in the mirror, eyeing her behind. “He brought yellow tulips—my favorite—and took me out to this really nice restaurant in Seattle. Like the kind that gives you warm bread before the meal.” She gazed up at the ceiling. “Anyway, he told me he wouldn’t see other people if I don’t.”

“I’d rather a guy not see other people because he doesn’t
want
to.”

“You and every other girl. Guys just think differently, you know?” She sucked her stomach in. “Do you think I’ve got too much tummy for this?”

All I saw was a huge chest, a small waist, and curvy hips—the perfect female figure. Everything mine wasn’t. “You look beautiful,” I said.

“Aw. Try yours on.”

“No thanks. I’ve got no reason to wear it.”

“Drea! Boys or no boys, there’s always a reason.” She winked. “I think Justin suffers from FGS, by the way.”

“What’s FGS?”

Naomi giggled and peeled the slip off. “It’s a term me and Kari came up with—we used to be joined at the hip.”

“She told me.”

“Yeah, anyway—it’s Former Geek Syndrome. Guys who are late bloomers and don’t get hot until their junior or senior year. Most of the time they aren’t aware of it yet, so they haven’t gotten all arrogant. They usually make the best boyfriends but have no idea how to make the first move.” She nudged me. “So do it already.”

“There’s more to life than boys. I’d rather write more songs.”

She pulled a flathead screwdriver and a small pair of pliers from her pocket.

“What is that for?”

Naomi put her fingers to her lips. “The security tags,” she whispered. “Make some noise, okay? Talk loud or something.” She slid the screwdriver in where the tag gripped the clothing.

“I’ll make you something. Don’t do this.”

“Quit worrying,” she whispered. “I’m not exactly new to this.”

“I’m leaving,” I said, reaching for the door.

Naomi grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. “Chill the fuck out. You’re going to get us caught.”

I avoided her gaze, which seemed to burn into me. Her nails dug into the skin of my arm.

“Please, Drea. Just help me out, okay?”

I yanked my arm out of her grip and slid to the ground. It was so hot in here. I couldn’t breathe.

“Look underneath the door,” she whispered. “Tell me if someone walks by.” She started to sing the lyrics to “Invisible” as she grasped the tag with the pliers. It snapped a couple seconds later and she handed me the remnants, which included a sharp pin. “Hold this. Anyone coming?”

I glanced under the door and shook my head, my breaths coming out fast. Naomi put the black slip back on, tucked it inside her jeans, and then pulled her T-shirt over it.

“Now yours.” She took the white lacy slip from my hands and repeated the process, still singing. “Put this on under your clothes.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Fine, whatever.” She stuffed it down her jeans, then grabbed the broken security tags from me and tossed them under the divider into the adjacent fitting room. “Let’s get out of here.”

When we opened the door, the salesclerk came around the corner smiling. “How’d it go?”

I felt like there was a knife twisting in my stomach.

Naomi handed her the doll gown and the unidentifiable pink thing. “Neither of these were me. Maybe next time.”

“Would you like to try a different size or color?”

Naomi took my hand, pulling me forward. “No, no. The cut just didn’t work.”

We’d almost left the store when the salesgirl asked us to stop. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the security tags in her hands.

“Run.” Naomi took off in a sprint.

I tried to follow, but running through crowds was near impossible. Every time I avoided one major collision, someone else appeared out of nowhere. Two security guards were jogging in my direction. I sucked in my breath and froze, watching them close in on me.

A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hallway with a green exit sign. “Come on!”

I chased Naomi toward the sign, but I could hear the buzz of radios and voices behind us. The two guards entered the hallway just before we reached the doors.

“Found two females matching the description,” a breathless guy said. “They’re running out the south exit. Over.”

Naomi pushed the door open, and I dug my heels into the pavement, using every last bit of muscle to get to her dad’s car.

“Duck,” she said, bending over and weaving between the cars. The sound of opening doors and footsteps rang out behind us.

“Search the southeast parking lot,” a guy said. One set of footsteps ran in another direction.

Naomi pushed the unlock button and opened the silver door of her dad’s SUV. “Scrunch down in the seat so nobody will see you,” she whispered.

I squeezed the handle, and the passenger door creaked open. It sounded more like a scream. They must’ve heard it. I’d gotten us caught.

Naomi threw a blanket over my head as I climbed in, closing the door with as little force as possible. I squeezed my eyes shut despite the darkness. All I could hear was Naomi’s labored breathing and the roar of the car engine.

“We’ll be okay,” she said over and over again. A metal song blared out of her speakers, and she tapped her hands against the wheel.

The endless turns made me dizzy. Stop. Go. Stop. Crawl. Stop. Every second seemed like an eternity. And the screaming vocals certainly weren’t helping the mood.

Finally, Naomi let out a wicked laugh and tore the blanket from my head. “That was such a rush.”

I gaped at her grinning face. “Are you crazy?”

“Probably.” For whatever reason, she seemed proud of this.

We made a right onto the main street and got onto the freeway on-ramp. “We should go back and return the stuff. They saw us—and they probably have cameras.”

Naomi shrugged. “I didn’t see any. Besides, it’s not like we robbed a bank. We stole some overpriced lingerie.”

“
We
didn’t do anything.”

She rolled down the window, sticking a cigarette between her lips. “You can’t tell me your friends back in San Francisco or Vegas or
wherever
never ripped anything off.”

“We went to parties and clubs and stuff.”

Her blue eyes lit up. “Ooh, you got a fake ID?”

“No.”

She sped up to eighty-five. “How’d you get in? Did you flirt with the bouncer?”

“The speed limit is sixty.”

“I had no idea. Tell me again.” Her smile faded, and she pressed harder on the gas.

“The speed limit is—”

“Do you take everything literally?”

I glanced down at my shaking hands. They looked pale and small in my lap. “I don’t understand the point of saying something you don’t mean.”

“I don’t understand the point of a lot of things.” She turned up the radio, and we rode the rest of the way home in silence.

W
E WAITED FOR GRANDMA
to go to bed before we lined the floor with newspapers and cracked open the paint. Naomi rambled on about Scott, the time Kari got lice, and a bad acid trip she had as if she’d completely forgotten the incident at the mall. I got this gnawing pain in my gut every time I looked at the stolen lingerie on my floor.

“You do realize this is a hideous color, right?” Naomi slapped the roller onto the wall, splattering paint across her cheeks. “Oops.”

“It’s a happy color.”

“Says the girl who almost always wears black. I like the smell of paint, though—makes my head all nice and fuzzy.”

“Hey, Drea.” Mom headed down the stairs. She was wearing a fitted black dress and matching heels. “Oh, God.” Her eyes widened at the lime green paint. “Grandma is going to kill us both.”

“I’ll paint it white again when we move out.”

“Damn it, Drea. You should’ve asked me first.” She sighed. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’m going on a second date with that dentist tonight.”

“Ooh,” Naomi said. “Is he hot?”

Mom grinned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Very.”

I wondered if Mom wished I was boy crazy like Naomi. Maybe she’d talk to me more—like, tell me more about the guy in the first place.

“Anyway, make sure you keep the windows open and don’t sleep in here overnight.”

“I’m not a complete idiot.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sleeping at Naomi’s.”

Mom gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun, sweetie. See you later, Naomi.”

“Bye.” Naomi wiggled her fingers at Mom and slapped the wall with the roller again.

“You’re not supposed to beat the wall with it.”

She blew her purple bangs out of her face. “My arms are getting tired.”

I shook my head and dipped my roller in the pan. The jittery tunes of Imogen Heap’s “Goodnight and Go” wafted in the background. The song put a grin on my face because it reminded me of Justin. I sang along.

Naomi snorted out a laugh. “Okay, Drea, I think you’re a wonderful human being.” She sighed and met my gaze. “But you can’t sing.”

I moved closer to her and sang louder.

“Stop!” She covered her ears. “Get your mind off Justin already, will ya?” She smirked as if she’d read my mind.

I focused back on the wall. “It’s not on him.”

“It
so
is. You’re thinking about the many ways you can rip his clothes off and ravage him.”

Giggles escaped my throat. “Nooo.”