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hand
    that I’d completely forgotten to pay for.
    My mom had
    been sick for months already
    and she was cranky that day.
    I could have gone back but
    I felt like I deserved a treat, a present,
    something that tastes good,
    because if there are forces that decide
    to randomly take people away,
    there should be forces that decide
    to randomly give things for free.

 
Welcome to Shoplifters Anonymous
    A woman with gray flyaway hair announces:
    Welcome to Shoplifters Anonymous.
    We have some newcomers today,
    so bear with me if you’ve heard this before.
    My name is Shawn—
    and everyone says,
Hi, Shawn!
so loud
    I practically jump out of my seat.
    Shawn smiles and proudly says,
    I’m a kleptomaniac.
    I’m also a codependent and a child of alcoholics,
    but that’s a different story.
    She pauses for laughs,
    but there aren’t any.
    I want to tell all you newcomers
    my story from the beginning….
    She’s just about to start when who walks in—
    looking like she wishes she were dead
    or, worse, like she stole something
    and got caught doing it—
    but Tabitha Foster.

ROCK BOTTOM
    How the hell did I end up in the basement of Saint Michael’s Church on SW Mill in a shit part of town with a boatload of losers? Thank you oh-so-much, Family Friend Jeffrey, for deciding this is my salvation from a criminal record.
    “Make yourself comfortable,” says the frizzy-banged woman standing in front of the room. “I’m Shawn. And you are?”
    Great. AA has already started.
    “Tabitha.” I sit in the back, scootch down in my chair, and try to be as invisible as possible. There are some tables, and frayed, grubby brown carpet, and a few dozen women in their thirties and forties, plus one really old man. I didn’t think there was going to be anyone my own age, but a few seats over, there’s a girl with purple combat boots and a cherry-red dye job that was clearly not achieved withprofessional input. Shawn calls her “Maureen,” and the girl looks up. “Moe.
Remember?
”
    She’s got something in Sharpie written on her arm. It’s probably a reminder to do drugs or beat somebody up.
    The other girl my age is sitting near the front. When Shawn asks her to introduce herself, she says, “I’m Elodie,” and when she turns her head, I see her little ski-jump nose and her wavy brown hair, and I realize it’s the girl who spilled daiquiri all over me at Derek’s party. What are the fucking odds of that? When she bends over to get something out of her purse, I see a camera peeking out of her messenger bag.
That
’s where I’ve seen her. She’s on the yearbook staff. A few months ago, she took a picture of me and Brady. He made some comment to her about how his photo should be on every page.
    “Can you pull some strings and make that happen?” he said. Based on the giggling and blushing she was doing, she’s clearly one of dozens of girls at LO High who dreams about being his girlfriend. Who wouldn’t? He’s hot. He’s tall. He’s famous. Lucky me. Now I get to sit here behind one of his superfans. Meanwhile, there’s a creepy homeless guy waiting outside so he can continue rambling at me about how I look Scandinavian. Just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, it goes and gets a little bit lower.

MARCH 16
    Once I saw my fifth-grade teacher Miss Dobson buying douche at the supermarket. She saw me, I saw her, we made eye contact, and I tried to act like I didn’t see her vaginal supplies. Still, the shock of seeing Miss Dobson getting her Summer’s Eve on was nothing compared to the shock of seeing Tabitha Foster and some goody-two-shoes–looking girl from my school in Shoplifters Anonymous today. I don’t know about Goody Two-Shoes, but Tabitha Foster pretty much has everything: money, friends, popularity, a hot boyfriend who worships her. Why would
she
need to steal?
    Until now the most interesting person in the class has been Gina, the world’s unhappiest housewife, who loves to share her personal details.