Chapter 5
“Hi, thief.” Yvette had fallen from my shelf to my bed, and when I picked her up, she said, “You stole a tea biscuit.”
“Shut up. No I didn’t.”
“You can’t lie to me,” Yvette said in Aunt Libby’s sing-song voice. She tsked her teeth, shook her head in a mocking sort of disappointment. “Bad girl, stealing from the Joneses. And from Tiffany.”
“She didn’t care,” I said out loud. Sometimes I forgot to talk to Yvette just in my head. “She said it didn’t matter if people stole from the store.”
“Are you five years old? Don’t give me excuses. You know right from wrong.”
“Yeah, I do,” I said, forming the words silently with my lips. “Doesn’t mean I always do what’s right.”
Aunt Libby and Uncle Flip were getting dinner together in the kitchen. I could hear them shuffling po
