Stealing Stacey. Lynne Banks Reid

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      For Diane McCudden, who was the

      inspiration for this book and the greatest help in getting it right, and for Sarah, who gave me the Wonngai stories.

      Table of Contents

       Title Page

       Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Also by the Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Of course it would have to be the day the truant-cop brought me home, that this unbelievable woman turned up who was going to change my life.

      Me and Loretta’d decided to bunk off after lunch. We had a great time… up to the point we were caught. First thing I wanted to do was change out of my rotten uniform. I’d brought a crop-top and we went to a café. Loretta marched straight through to the toilet with her head in the air, as if we were their best customers, and I changed. I had to keep my school skirt on, but I rolled the waistband down as far as I dared and stuffed my blazer and shirt into my school bag. Loretta didn’t change. I guessed why. She gave my bare middle a pat and said, “Let’s go.”

      So then we went and had our nails done – her sister’s a manicurist and she gave us two for the price of one when her manageress wasn’t looking. Loretta paid. She’s always got plenty of dosh. I had mine painted half white and half magenta, with squared-off points. Loretta had hers blue with silver stars stuck on each fingernail and moons on the thumbs. She bites hers so she couldn’t do much about the sticking-out part – cos mine were longer she was really jealous.

      Then we went to the covered market. There’s a stall there that only sells lacy underwear. The woman who keeps the stall had nipped off to the loo and while she was gone Loretta nicked some pants and a matching bra. That was just for starters.

      I didn’t nick anything. From this point in time, a year later, I’m glad I didn’t, but at the time – I have to tell the truth – it wasn’t because I was dead honest, it was because I bottled it. I didn’t know how she did it, she was so quick you couldn’t even see her hands move. For the undies, she suddenly said, “Oh, look!” She pointed at something, and I looked where she pointed, and by the time I looked back she was moving away and the bra and pants were already stuffed up her school shirt, under her arm. (That was why she hadn’t changed. You can’t stuff much up a crop-top.) I didn’t even know it till we got away from the stall and she showed me a tiny corner of the pants, yellowy-green and lacy. She was giggling like crazy. She showed them to me properly when we went back into the café. She got all her loot out of various hiding places, and laid it out on her knee under the table.

      “Wicked,” I said. But then I saw the pants were a size sixteen. “What d’you nick those for? You won’t fit them.”

      “I’m not fussy,” she said. “Turns me on, nicking things. I’ll give ’em to my mum.”

      “Won’t she ask where you got them?”

      “Not her. Why should she? Pennies from heaven. I mean pants.”

      “Does she know you go on the rob?”

      She shrugged. She’d got this round face, and while I’d been changing she’d been putting on lots of make-up. She pulled funny faces all the time, too, and now she crossed her eyes and wobbled her head. Loretta thought everything was one big joke, but when I asked if she wasn’t scared of getting caught she looked at me as if I was nuts, as if bad things could never happen to her.

      Well, a bad thing happened to both of us that day, because we were just coming out of the café when the truant wagon draws up and a truant-cop gets out right in front of us.

      “Afternoon, young ladies,” he says, all polite, but stern with it. “Shouldn’t you two be in school?”

      I’m half up the nearest wall, straight off, don’t know what to say, but Loretta’s dead cool. She tosses her head and goes, “We had exams today and we finished early so we were allowed to go.”

      “Exams at the beginning of November? I don’t think so!”

      “They’re special ones for high achievers,” she says. “Extra.” Honest, she’s incredible.

      “High achievers, eh?” he says. “Well, it’s always nice to meet clever girls. We’ll just make sure, shall we?” He looks at her blazer and straight off knows what school we’re from by the badge, gets out his mobile and just clicks one button. He must have all the local school numbers in its memory. Of course I know right off the game’s up, and so does Loretta, but while I’m stood there nearly wetting myself in panic she’s leaning against a shop front, looking at her new silver-star nails. You’d’ve never thought she had all that nicked gear in her school bag.

      

      By the time he’d found out that his suspicions were right – our school’d just put in the new computer program for spotting bunkers – it was too late to take us back to school, so he bundled us into his van (Loretta actually demanded to see his ID!) and took us home. When she got out of the van first, she gave me one of her funny looks and at the last moment, do you know what she did, she dumped her school bag on my lap and said, “Can you take this to your place? I’ll come round and revise with you after I have my piano lesson.” Piano lesson my bum – she just didn’t want to risk being caught with the loot.

      She