Read The Collector for Free Online Page B

“Let’s raid the kitchen.”
    Charlie and I dig out three bags of chips, one can of artichoke dip, and two cans of orange soda. We chow down, and I try to shake the odd feeling that a collector was outside her house. But I can’t. I don’t understand who it would’ve been, or why they came here.
    As I watch her tip back her drink, all I can think is, Why Charlie?
    I’ve got to get this assignment moving quicker, and I know how to do it. The thought makes me gag, but I know it’ll work, and I don’t have much choice. If another collector is watching on the sly, then it’s time to bring out the big guns. I’d like to show him how smoothly I operate.
    “Hey, Charlie,” I say, taking the orange soda out of her hand and setting it down. “Let’s hang out in your room.” Her blue eyes widen, but she doesn’t protest as I take her hand. “Come on.”
    “You want me to bring up the chips and stuff?” she asks. “I’m addicted to the Cheetos, but I wish my grandma would buy the puff kind, you know? I always ask her to, but…” Charlie rambles at Mach speed. She’s nervous. And she should be. I doubt this girl has ever visited first base…or even been to a game.
    I lead the way up the stairs and push her bedroom door open. The pink overload blinds me as I enter the room. Though I’ve seen it before, I’m still not prepared for how loud it is.
    I sit on her bed and shove some of the pillows onto the floor. She doesn’t seem to mind, which surprises me. Charlie takes her stolen hairpin out of her pocket and grips it in her hand. She stares at it as though it might suddenly sprout teeth.
    “Why so glum?” I ask in my seduction voice.
    She rolls her tongue over the inside of her cheek and says quietly, “I want to return it.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    “I do,” she insists.
    I bite down, not at all happy she’s killing my vibes. Ready to drop the subject, I hold my palm out. “Give it to me,” I say. “I’ll return it.”
    She hands it over like she’s happy to be rid of it. I stuff it in my pocket, where it’ll stay. That seal of hers ain’t going nowhere. It’s not like you can rob a bank one day, then return it the next and expect a full pardon. Please.
    Charlie smiles, thinking her sin is absolved, and plucks a porcelain figurine off her window ledge. She tosses it back and forth between her hands. The way she does it seems…careless.
    “That one your favorite?” I ask, trying once again to pull game.
    “What?” Charlie peers at me, then down at her hands. “Oh, yeah. It’s beautiful.”
    No, it’s ridiculous.
    “Actually, it’s pretty dumb, isn’t it? All this pink and lace and little girl propaganda.” She sets the ornament down gently as if she feels bad for what she said. “My grandma decorated this room before I got here. I didn’t want to hurt her by changing it, but this place really is over-the-top girly.”
    My shoulders tense. I hate that I don’t know as much about her as I thought I did. It makes me feel unsettled. It’s been a long day; I shouldn’t have to do background work at this point. But it is what it is.
    “How would you decorate it?” I lean back on the bed and cross my arms beneath my head.
    Her eyebrows inch upward. “Well, first I’d get rid of the damn figurines. I want a room that says I’m seventeen, not seven. Then I’d pull these pink drapes off my bed.” Charlie grabs the drapes, tugs them off, and wraps them around her shoulders. “And oh, the paint. The pink has to go. Instead, I want one bright red accent wall.”
    “Really, red?” So the girl does have some taste.
    “Heck, yeah. It’s my favorite color of all time.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yeah. It’s so bold, so powerful, so…everything I’m not.” She jumps onto the bed and stretches her arms to touch the ceiling. Her shirt rises just a bit, and I catch a glimpse of firm white belly. It’s almost as blinding as the room. “And here! Here I’ve always wanted storm clouds.