The Heist

Chapter One

 This is my first story on here, sorta inspired by Heist Society by Ally Carter.

Read on!(:

__________________________________________

"What that hell?" I glared at him.

He is not being serious. I did not give in just to hear him say this. I am not going back. He can't make me. I will not...

"C'mon, Lace," He said with smirk.

I gritted my teeth. God I hated that nickname. I mean, would you like to be called some girly stitch material on people's shirts? I think not. "Don't call me that."

"Panties in a twist?" His eyes lightened with humor.

Are you friking kidding? Of course they were! (In a metaphoric sense) Being dragged kicking and screaming into a stank ass janitor's closet by a guy I haven't seen in three years isn't exactly the highlight of my day.

Just when I was about to punch him in the face, the door opened, revealing Mr.Brown, our thousand year old janitor.

We froze. Well, I did, anyways. He was just smiling like a little boy with his hands caught in the cookie jar. My cookie jar to be precise.

"Git out, and don't come back, ya hear? Dang kids be makin' out in my closet all the time..." he yelled.

He grabbed my hand and we ran down the hall, laughing. Well he was. I was probably a tomato face. Why? He's holding my hand. What? No. I tried to wriggle my hand out of his grasp. Let go, let go, let go...

You're probably wondering who "he" is. Well "He" is Cameron Hasting. Light brown hair that shined golden in the sun, perfect tan, angular face of a God, hazel eyes that you could easily get lost in, and personality of a three letter donkey. He irked me, and whenever I was around him, I always had an extreme urge to kick him where the sun don't shine. Then again, the last time I was with him was a three years ago. Until now.

We were far from the janitor's closet by now, but Cameron was still running. And still grasping my hand.

"Where are we going?"

Why are we going outside? Aw hell naw. We're not going to his car right? He led us right to the sleek, black BMW. Of course.

"In my car, duh. We're going to my house. Didn't you hear anything I said in the closet?"

"Oh, was that before or after the janitor caught us all up on each other?"

Cameron laughed and opened the car door. Sighing, I went in. Cameron got in the other side and started driving.

I bit the insides if my cheek. What am I doing? Why did I get in the car? Damn. I'm really stupid. After a long stretch of silence I spoke. "I already said I'm not doing this anymore."

Guilt crossed Cameron's face. He sighed.

"Lace, I'm sorry, but this is really important. Just hear my dad out, okay? I know you'd hate this after..." he trailed off.

I felt like a brick got lodged in my throat. I looked out the window at the passing trees, now blurring together. I refuse to let him see the sting of tears in my eyes. It happened four years ago, yet it still hurt.

I come from a family of thieves. We don't steal random people's items, like electronics, money, or stuff like that. We already had plenty of that. We stole paintings, jewelry, the famous stuff. I guess it was mostly a hobby. My parents stole with their friends and they trained their children to do the same.

I still remember our first test. My fake whining to the adults to create a distraction while Cameron stole hordes of chocolate in the back of King's Candy Factory.

I thought I'd live my life like this, just like my parents, until that terrible day my mom was speeding away from a heist. A deer ran across the road and she swerved, but lost control of the car because of driving so fast, and...You know how it ends.

Her death broke my father, who stopped stealing. He doesn't care about me. Which hurts, because I loved him. I still do, I guess, but it's hard to be connected to some one who has excluded you from their life. He sold the things that we stole and now works as a cashier at Wal-Mart. He sort of just pays for everything I need. I think he blows the rest of his money on liquor. But that's just my guess, because he stopped talking to me completely. Probably has something to do with the fact that I have my mother's wavy chocolate hair.

I, on the other hand, continued stealing for fun, to numb my pain. Stealing made me feel free, powerful and mighty. Completing a heist was the high I rode on, the thing that kept me from completely breaking down.

But one day, it dawned on me that my mother died because of this. If she hadn't been speeding away from a heist, then there was a chance she could still be alive, and things would be normal.

So I walked away from everything I'd been trained to do, and everyone accepted it, knowing it was hard for me. I had a clean break. I was fine with that, though I often wondered why they never came after me.

That was when I was fourteen. Now I'm seventeen and have my own life.Why do they need me?

I couldn't help but smile as we pulled into the Hasting's drive way. As much as I wanted to leave this behind, this place used to be my second home. But I also wanted to throw up. Why am I here again? Gosh, I'm bipolar.

The car had stopped, but we sat in silence, as if daring each other to get out first. I was waiting for him to get out. Hyperventilating in front of Cameron is one thing I will not do.

"You could just run away right now. I'll just tell them I couldn't find you. You don't have to do this," Cameron said in a soft voice, not quite looking at me.

I was struck by this. Cameron was being...Sweet? Hmm...

"I can handle myself," I responded, then stepped out of the car and into the stuffy suffocating atmosphere. It was here where I let the first tear slip out of my eyes; a little dark mark on the Hasting's perfect white brick driveway.

__________________________________________

Please Comment,Vote, and Suggest to random people! But if you don't, that's chill too, I guess.

This is your warning: This is my first story on Wattpad so it may be rough...

Anyways, Shmenks<3