She didn’t. Junie wanted to watch her movie—I could see it on her face—but once she laid eyes on Mom, who I’d guided upstairs gently, like she was made of porcelain, Junie understood. She flipped off the television without complaint and followed us into Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Mom perched her on the edge of the bed and ran to get her curlers from the bathroom.
I was liquid-bone tired all of a sudden. If I sat on that bed, I’d fall asleep, and I couldn’t let that happen, not until Dad returned. So I leaned against the wall, digging my nails into my palm when I grew dozy, and I watched, watched Mom prep Junie’s face, pushing her copper-colored hair behind her ears.
Behind her perfect pink seashell ears.
Searching the tunnels would have to wait.
CHAPTER 24
My face burned.
It made no sense, being this embarrassed. As an employee of Zayre Shoppers City, I’d visited every corner of the complex. I felt most comfortable in the deli, obviously, but I bought my clothes there, picked up groceries, even stopped by the hardware section when Dad needed something for around the house. I’d never talked to someone at the jewelry counter, though, and somehow standing there made me feel enormous and clumsy, a ham-fisted giant staring down at the beautiful trinkets beneath glass.
“Can I help you?”
I attempted a smile, but my lip snagged on a tooth. Both my hands were drumming on my thighs, the opening beats to Cream’s “Toad.” “I have a question about an ID bracelet.”
The idea had come to me when I couldn’t fall asleep last night after Dad arrived home, even though I was exhausted. I’d taken him aside after I’d made sure Junie was safely in bed. I told him how close we’d been to another vacation for Mom. He’d been furious.
I felt terrible for tattling. I didn’t think Mom could help it when it got bad. My heart hurt for Dad, too. It couldn’t be fun to come home to so much fuss. Their voices had started out angry but urgent, that fight-buzz that hummed in the floorboards beneath my bare feet. Then it escalated, Dad yelling about her scaring me, Mom screaming about how he should be the one we were all scared of. I finally put my good ear into the mattress and covered my bad one with a pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.
That’s when this new plan dropped in.
I’d need to wait to dip into the tunnels, but I could visit the Zayre jewelry counter and ask them about the copper ID bracelet. It was a long shot, but maybe they’d recently sold one and could tell me who’d bought it. It was a unique-enough piece of jewelry that I figured I didn’t have anything to lose.
I hadn’t counted on how much I would feel like a big, stupid farm animal towering over the petite woman behind the counter, her crisp white blouse draping her body just right, its neck bow-tied at a flirty angle, her peach-frost lipstick bright and juicy.
“We don’t carry ID bracelets anymore,” she said, her warm smile appearing genuine. I relaxed a notch. “They were popular about ten years ago. Before my time.”
I peered through the glass counter. “Did Zayre ever sell copper ones that you know of?”
“Hmmm,” she said. “Most of our men’s jewelry is gold or silver. We do have some beautiful copper pendants, though.” She tapped on the glass above a heart the size of a quarter, its penny color so pure it was almost pink.
“That’s pretty,” I said.
“Isn’t it?” She indicated my green work shirt. “You’re the second deli employee here this week.”
My scalp tingled. “Who was the first?”
She made a zipping motion in front of her mouth. “Discretion is a must in the jewelry business. We never know who’s buying gifts for whom, you know?”
Dead end. “Thanks anyways.”
I was turning to leave when a pair of dangling gold ball earrings under the glass caught my eye. Maureen had been wearing identical ones the night we’d played at the fair. The last time I’d seen her. “How much are those?”
She looked where I was pointing. “Oh, $49.99. They’re twenty-four-karat gold. We used to display them on the counter, but someone kept using their five-finger discount. Lost three pairs in a single day.”
It was possible Maureen had shoplifted all of them.
The salesclerk moved to slide open the case. “Would you like to see them? This is our last pair.”
“No, thanks,” I said. “Maybe another time.”
Mondays were slow, so it was just Ricky and me at the deli counter. We didn’t talk much, but that wasn’t unusual. I was surprised when he offered me a ride home at closing time.