Stealing Heaven by Elizabeth Scott

Author:Elizabeth Scott [Scott, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Family, Parents, Law & Crime, Social Issues, Values & Virtues
ISBN: 9780061920066
Google: b-YyP-0F08AC
Publisher: Harper Collins
Published: 2009-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

169

She grins at me. "Even if you have a name tag on that says you're Rebecca."

"Rebecca's my middle name," I say immediately, habit, and then feel like crap because I can tell Allison means what she said about me and she's wrong. "I figure it sounds more maidlike, don't you? And hey, I'm really glad about you and Brad." I know I've been lying nonstop but I really mean that last part.

"Rebecca!" Joan bellows, and from how loud she's yelling, she's clearly desperate for a nicotine fix. "Grab your stuff and let's go already!"

"I gotta go," I tell Allison.

"We have to hang out soon, okay?"

"Sure," I tell her. That I don't really mean. I can't mean it. She smiles at me and I wish that I could. I wish I could be her friend, a real friend. But I can't.

170

18

The next day is brutal. I spend a couple hours cleaning up puke at our second house--sick kids, I'm told, as if that makes some sort of difference. Then, at our third house, as I'm scrubbing a bathroom that belongs to a small boy who's being potty trained, Joan comes in and says, "Don't go in the master bedroom," before stomping off to smoke.

After I finish Little Mr. Pee-a-Lot's bathroom, I go out in the hallway to vacuum and a strong smell makes my eyes start to water and my lungs start to hurt. What has Joan done? I go outside and find her. She says, "Mixed ammonia and some other cleaner by mistake," and then offers me a cigarette, as if that will make my lungs hurt less.

I'm pretty sure things can't get much worse after that,_ but then we stop at our last house of the day.

171

It's a small one, a little cottage tucked on a side street at the very edge of Heaven. Maggie and Shelly moan as we park the car, and Joan says, "I keep hoping the damn place will burn down." I don't get what the big deal is--after spending all day in houses the size of small countries, how hard could it be to clean a normal-size house?

Very hard, as it turns out, because the owner, who is on the phone with Stu when we walk in, yelling that we're late, follows us everywhere. We're not allowed to split into our cleaning groups, and all four of us have to clean each room.

And the owner, who looks like a sweet grandmother, is actually demon spawn because not only does she follow us, she makes us clean everything over and over again. In one room, I dust a ceramic dog twelve times before she is satisfied. I also lose my name tag, but don't mention it because I have a feeling she'd make me stay until I found it, even if it took all night.

"God, I hate that house," Maggie says afterward, putting her feet up on the dashboard. Joan, who is busy lighting one cigarette off another one, nods, and swats at Maggie's feet.

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