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“It’s not the fucking Louvre.”

“Pardon me for not having cased the joint in advance.”

“I will not pardon you for having used the phrase ‘cased the joint’ at all, in fact.”

I accidentally step on Salem’s foot. Twice.

“The longer you stay here browsing, the more familiar you’ll look,” Salem points out when he’s done cursing me under his breath. “Your hair does not exactly blend into the scenery.”

“I said I should wear a hat!”

“The only thing more conspicuous than your actual hair is your hair sticking out like a clown wig mashed down by a hat. Now pick something and let’s go.”

“Okay.” The loose saltwater taffies look easy enough, so I scoop up a couple and slide them into my T-shirt pocket, which is strategically hidden by the plaid button-up I’m wearing over it. I wait for a shout that never comes, and then add a couple of Bit-O-Honeys, which are, in my opinion, extremely underrated. Finally, a pack of gum makes its way into my bagtoo easily. Then I kick Salem in the sneaker and we head toward the exit while I try to keep my breathing under control.

And then, magically, we’re outside. No alarm goes off. No one calls after us. We’re just… free. And so is the candy.

We keep going down the hall and around the corner, and I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding since I picked up that first taffy.

“Holy shit,” I manage, panting. “I did it. I shoplifted.”

“You did!” Salem says with a proud smile. “How’s it feel?”

I take a second to consider my answer. “Super shitty. I really do not like stealing. Did you do this a lot?”

“Nah, only a couple of times, with things I’m not old enough to buy legally—lighters and rolling papers, mostly. I did get my start at a candy store, though. Seemed pretty low stakes, and I can eat ten pounds of sour bears when I’m stoned.”

“Wow, so marijuana reallyisa gateway drug.”

Salem rolls his eyes. “Come on—what’s next on the list?”

I can’t bring myself to tell him. If anything else feels as bad as stealing does, it’ll make it official that I amnotcut out to be a bad girl.

He watches me for a minute before finally letting out a heavy sigh. “Gimme the candy, Skeevy.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

I reach into my pockets and put it all in Salem’s hands. It feels good to be rid of it, but now I’m just afraid of Salem getting in trouble. He doesn’t seem remotely bothered, though; he turns and heads back the way we came.

“Salem! Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?” he calls, and I watch him turn the corner.

I’m too afraid to follow him, and by the time he returns a few minutes later, my nails are bitten down to the quick. “Here you go,” he says, holding up a little plastic bag.

I take it and open it up. Inside is all the stolen candy, a baggie of Coke-bottle gummies, and a clean white receipt. “You went back and paid for it? What did you tell them?”

“That my friend ‘forgot’ to pay. But you still get a treat for trying,” he adds with a nod to the gummies. I don’t know how he remembered they’re my favorite, or when I even told him, but I tear into them like a mountain lion. “Classy,” he observes with a grin.

I’m too hungry to even tell him to shut up.

Once I’ve ingested my weight in sugar, I let Salem in on my next thought. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, actually, and today seems like the perfect day. “We’re going to the Ink Spot.”

He’s been following me in that direction, but now he stops in his tracks. “You want to get atattoo? Skeevy,no.”

“No?” A tattoo was not my actual plan, but I thought he’d find the idea hilarious. Instead, he looks straight-up horrified. “Are you telling me you don’t have an entire sleeve of tattoos planned for someday?”