Read Online Faking Sweet by J.C. Burke - Free Book Online

more here. I should’ve bought three. But the floor plan was the same. Big, busy and crowded with clothes. Hiding here would be a breeze.
    First I went to the dressing rooms to check them out. I was going to get it right this time. Step 3: observation – completed. Daydream Island here I come.
    There were ten dressing rooms that each had a huge number above their door. This place was completely idiot proof. I checked out the clothes, selecting a few I would pretend I wanted to try on. I needed an excuse to hang around the dressing rooms so I could see what Jess took in and, more importantly, what Jess took out. I’d just have to make sure Jess didn’t see me.
    Beep, beep. Calypso must’ve been ready and waiting.
    R u there?
    Yes
    Just step 3.
    Before I had a chance to reassure her I had it under control, another text came through.
    Watch which number dressing room she goes in 2. Can u c big numbers?
    Duh, I wasn’t blind. I just didn’t know about shoplifting.
    Don’t worry.
    Watch her bag 2.
    I took in a deep breath, as Jess Flynn had just entered the shop.
    JF here, I texted.
    Jess was at the entrance flicking through a rack of skirts. A sales assistant went up to her and said something. Jess nodded and smiled sweetly.
    â€˜Hello.’ It was the same sales assistant, now standing next to me.
    â€˜Oh, I’m still looking,’ I smiled sweetly too. ‘Thank you.’
    â€˜I must ask you to leave your school bag.’ Her arm signalled like a traffic controller. ‘At the entrance.’
    â€˜Oh? Okay.’ It was not possible for me to go the way she was pointing, as it meant I’d have to squeeze past Jess.
    I picked up my bag and started to walk in the opposite direction, towards the dressing rooms, before turning right and making my way around the very edge of the store.
    â€˜Excuse me?’ The assistant was following me. ‘Excuse me, Miss, but which … what … just put your bag …’
    I turned around. ‘I’m sorry,’ I smiled again. ‘It must seem, um, strange that I’m, um, taking the long way around but I’m in a, a, pedomathon. Like a walkathon except you get sponsored for how many, how many steps you take. It’s for the … the bushfire victims.’
    â€˜Really?’ answered the assistant. ‘Now I feel terrible. I didn’t even know there’d been any bush-fires lately.’
    â€˜Oh yes,’ I nodded. How gullible can you be? ‘Lots. Mostly in … Tasmania.’
    â€˜Gee, maybe I should do it too. How did you find out about it?’ she said.
    â€˜Urgh, well …’ Didn’t this woman have some work to do? My mind was racing a thousand k’s a minute. ‘Go to www.pedomathon.com.’
    â€˜Pedomathon. P-e-d?’
    â€˜P-e-d-o-, like walkathon.’
    â€˜Great, thanks,’ she said. ‘I still feel guilty about missing the forty-hour famine this year. I bet you did it. Were you allowed to have rice this time?’
    â€˜Gee, um, I can’t remember.’ I had lost sight of Jess. I craned my neck and did a quick three-sixty of the place. ‘I’d like to try these on.’ I threw the assistant the clothes I was holding. I just had to hope Jess was in a dressing room. ‘Now, please.’
    â€˜All right,’ she said. ‘You put your bag away then meet me up the back.’
    I threw my bag like I was in the javelin finals and bolted off behind her, praying like a born-again that Jess was in a dressing room.
    Luckily there were a couple of girls waiting, which gave me a moment to get my head together. If I slid down the wall a bit I could scan the feet under the doors.
    In number seven, a honey-skinned foot with the softest pink polish lifted itself off the floor. It had to belong to Jess. I crossed my fingers and held my breath.
    I was right! Out of number seven stepped Jess Flynn.
    Wow! How amazing did she look in the