Book Description

There was no blood. No death, injury, or dismemberment. (Well, possibly a little bit of dismemberment.) Cleo squirmed through the mass of spectators and crawled through two sets of legs to get into her room, where she found her roommates pretty much where she had left them, except now they were screaming and pointing at the interior of Cleo's second dresser drawer. The girls, trying to be nice (and also because they were seriously leery of Cleo), had unanimously decided to clean up the mess that Mae (or her cronies) had left. Once the mattress was relatively clean, they had split the remaining duties: half would clean the pillowcases, shoes, and floor; the other half would clean out the dresser and try to salvage Cleo's clothes. This was a great plan until somebody found the severed head rolled up in a sweater. Trouble is her middle name.... Cleo St. James isn't like other girls. In fact, she's downright creepy. But by the time she's nine years old, she's also alone-ignored by her parents and shunned by her peers. Her only friends are two grown men, and the fact that one is a gangster and the other a thief provides enough insight into the forces that shape Cleo into the weird young woman that she becomes. As Cleo grows up (too fast), her criminal tendencies lead her closer and closer to someone from her past--perhaps the only person in the world who truly understands her. With a sailor's vocabulary, a fine set of lock picks, and a few million in the bank, Cleo always gets what she wants. But when it comes to what she needs-a real connection with someone-it pays to have someone who knows her better than she knows herself.