My first memory is staring through a window into a house that isn't mine. I'm not very old, three or four at the most, and a hand rests on my head and fingers tap twice softly on my left ear. I know this means I must be extra super quiet and wait exactly where I am. I am good at being quiet. I am good at waiting.
The window opens. Through it I see a carpet. It's all different colors and enormous, stretching out as far as I can see. I stare at it for a long time and then I hear a bag fall, clinking softly as it lands. I am scooped up in a pair of arms and held tight, the only sound the rhythmic slap of feet hitting the ground over and over again.
My name is Danielle. I'm eighteen. I've been stealing things for as long as I can remember.
Excerpted from Stealing Heaven by Elizabeth Scott Copyright © 2009 by Elizabeth Scott. Excerpted by permission.
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