Chapter One—My First Rebellion

The problem I've found with being told something is bad for me, is that it usually makes me want it more.

Take cake, for example. When I was a girl, my mother steadfastly refused to let me have a second serving of cake for dessert. "It's bad for you," she insisted. Of course, my childish mind didn't understand the concept of calories or whale-blubber thighs. All I knew was that I wasn't allowed more cake for no good reason. Which made having more cake a double delight—the joy of sugar and eggs baked together, washed down with the knowledge that I was being naughty. It's a lesson I've unfortunately carried into adulthood resulting in an unhealthy obsession with dessert foods, and a very unhealthy obsession with rule breaking.

I'm fairly sure a lot of my problems in adulthood can be traced back to having something forbidden as a child. Such was the case with Joe Morelli.

Joe and I both grew up in the Burg, only two streets away from each other. The Burg is a little slice of Trenton, New Jersey, where the houses are as close as the people in them. Everyone in the Burg is related to everyone else somehow, and it's these extended family ties that keep the neighbourhood together. I was born a child of the Burg. I didn't know it then, but the streets and sideways around my house which made up the Burg would be the centre of my existence until the day I died. The children in the houses around me would be my friends, my enemies, my idols, my loves, my ex-loves-- but always- my family.

When I first met Joseph Morelli I was barely aware of the intricate web of Burg society that surrounded me. I was three and a half. I could walk and talk well enough, and I was about ready to find out what the world outside of my parent's house had to offer.

My older sister Valerie was six, and she was a perfect social butterfly. It seemed to me like she knew everyone. She had at least five or six girls who hung around with her. They could be found every afternoon playing hopscotch on the drive, or pretending to be mothers with a large collection of plastic baby dolls. Valerie and her friends were the very picture of what a mother hoped for in the Burg—they were polite, sweet, interested in dolls and toy kitchen sets, and when they grew up they wanted to be married.

I was still too young to know for sure what I wanted to be when I grew up. I didn't really know for sure what I wanted to be right now. Most of my sister's dolls didn't interest me, though I did like the way Betsy Wetsy gushed water all over her knickers if you gave her too much to drink. But I was more interested in the science of it, than in being a mommy.

It was a quiet spring afternoon when I met Joseph Morelli. Valerie was playing house with Andrea-Rose from across the street. My Grandma and Grandpop were sitting on the front porch watching her play. And somewhere inside, my mother was cooking dinner, keeping a watchful eye on me through the kitchen window. Betsy Wetsy and I were playing on the drive. I would force a bottle of water in through her sterile plastic lips, and watch in delight as it came out the other end.

A strange ringing sound filled the air. The tolling of a bicycle bell. This was a relatively new sound to my young ears. I looked up eagerly, trying to find the maker of the noise. There, at the end of our street, a boy was ringing the bell on a shiny red tricycle. As I watched, he stopped ringing the bell and began to peddle. He was coming this way!

I watched in awe as he moved up our street with ease coming closer towards me. I saw him touch the silver bell on the handlebars and the bell rang again. It was probably the most fascinating thing I had seen in my life.

I abandoned Betsy Wetsy- tossing her unceremoniously onto the drive- and dashed across the lawn towards my sister.

"Val-y, Val-y" I hollered.

Valerie turned to me angrily. "What Stephanie? We're trying to play house, and you're interrupting." Andrea-Rose glared at me.

I took no notice, grabbing a hold of my sister's smock and tugging excitedly, "Val-y, look! Lookit there." I pointed excitedly at the boy on the tricycle.

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Big deal."

"Who's him?" I asked in my broken English.

"Who is he." Valerie corrected.

"Who is he!"

Valerie shrugged, "A Morelli. Joseph Morelli." Valerie knew everyone. "He's in kindergarten."

I stared at Joseph Morelli, my jaw hanging open. Not only could he ride a trike, but he was a big-kid too. He went to school and everything. At that moment, I wanted nothing more then to be a big-kid like Joseph Morelli and ride a shiny red trike.

I tried to convey this to my apathetic sister. "I want what he's doing."

Valerie groaned and rolled her eyes again. "It's just a trike, Stephanie. Daddy says he's gonna teach me to ride a two wheeler this summer."

I didn't really care what Daddy said he'd teach Valerie in the summer. I only had eyes for Joseph Morelli and his trike.

"Go away, Steph!" My sister cried. "You're so annoying."

I trudged away from Valerie and Andrea-Rose, still watching Joseph Morelli. He was riding around in a circle outside Sammy and Sarah Barker's house. Both the Barker kids and Andrea-Rose's brother Nickie, were watching him. Joseph hollered obnoxiously and rang his bell, triumphantly disrupting the peace.

Something moved over me, casting a shadow on the grass where it obscured the sun's fading light. I looked up to see Grandma Mazur smiling down at me. "What do you think of that boy's bike?" She said, "looks pretty swish, eh?"

I nodded.

"Bet you wish you had a bike like that," she said. "Your old grandma wishes she had a bike like that. Maybe that one would be a bit small for me though." Grandma Mazur laughed. "But what a colour. Fire engine red." She smiled warmly at me, and I felt somehow that she completely understood me. "Say Stephanie, why don't you ask that boy if you can have a ride?"

I stared up at her, half afraid, half excited by her proposition. Could I really just go and ask? Was there some chance this marvellous boy would give me a go on his tricycle?

"Quick, Steph" Grandma said, "Go now, before he leaves."

After a moment's hesitation, I gave in and ran towards Joseph Morelli. He had moved on from the Barker's house, and was making his way to our drive. We met at the footpath and he slowed to a halt.

He looked me up and down with an appraising eye. "You're Stephanie Plum," he said.

I nodded shyly. Up close Joseph Morelli looked even more amazing and frightening then he did from a distance. He was a lot taller then me and probably stronger too. He had black hair like all of the Morelli kids and his eyes reminded me of chocolate pudding. One baby-tooth was missing on the right side of his top jaw—he was so big his teeth were falling out! From atop the seat of his tricycle, Joseph Morelli looked me over, considered my worthiness. "Well Stephanie Plum," he said finally, "Do you like my trike?"

I nodded again. I plucked up all the courage I could muster and asked, "Can I have a ride?"

Joseph Morelli considered this. "I don't know," he said. "What will you give me in return?"

I furrowed my brow. I didn't have anything I could offer.

"Got any sweets?" he asked. "I hear your mum makes real good ginger snaps."

I shook my head "They're only for after dinner."

"Hmm," he said, "What about a kiss then?"

"What about it?" I asked.

Joseph Morelli groaned. "Will you give me a kiss, if I let you ride my trike?"

This was a confusing proposition. "I can't kiss you." I said.

"Why not?"

"Because," I thought about it for a moment. "Because I only kiss Mommy, and Daddy, and Grandma and Granpop."

Joseph Morelli grinned at me. "You've never tried to kiss me." He said, "How do you know you can't?"

I looked down at my shoes. Joseph Morelli was trying to trick me. I wasn't quite sure how, or why, but I knew he was. He thought he knew everything because he was in kindergarten and he had a red tricycle. Well, I'd show him. "I won't kiss you Joseph Morelli. Not now. Not never!" And I stamped my foot to let him know I was serious.

He just grinned.

At that moment, my mother burst out of the house, soup ladle in hand. "Stephanie!" She yelled, "What are you doing so close to the road? Come here right away!"

I ran back towards the house as fast as I could, but it wasn't fast enough to escape my mother's wrath. She had already caught me away from the house, talking to a strange boy. There was going to be trouble. "Sorry mama." I squeaked.

My mother grabbed my arm and pulled me up the steps to the house. "What have I told you about going too far away from the house. A car could have come and knocked you over. Or someone could have come snatched you. Always stay with your sister when you're outside."

"Yes mama."

"And who was that boy?" She asked.

My eyes lit up in excitement. "Joseph Morelli!" I said. "Valerie says he's in kindergarten. An' I saw one of his teeth had falled out. An' he has a red trike, which he said I could ride if-" fortunately, my mother cut me off.

"Now you listen to me Stephanie," She said, "Those Morelli boys are all trouble. The stories I hear about Tony Morelli and his gang of hoodlums. And Joseph Morelli is no better. He's just like his brothers, and his father, and all those Morelli men. I don't want you to go near any of them."

"But why?" I asked. I had rather liked talking to Joseph Morelli.

"I told you, they're bad kids. I don't want you getting mixed up in that. Why don't you play with your sister and her friends? They're all good girls." She looked me in the eyes, and I felt like she could see right into my heart. "If I find out you've been talking to Joseph Morelli again, it's big trouble for you Stephanie. Understand?"

I nodded. "Yes mama."

My mother stared at me for a long time, her gaze boring into the very depth of my being. She was searching for the little seed of deceit I was hiding, but I managed to squish it out of her sight. Finally, she let me go. "Good girl. Now go play with your sister."

My mother disappeared back to her den in the kitchen. I watched the kitchen window, knowing that she would be looking out, watching my every move.

Joseph Morelli had taken off. He was already halfway back down the street. It was no good. Even if my mother wasn't watching, he was too far away; I'd never catch him now.

Just then, Joseph Morelli turned around. He looked up the street towards my house. Our eyes locked. Even from this distance, I could see his sneaky grin. "Hey Stephanie Plum," he yelled. "If you ever change your mind—I'll still let you have a ride on my trike."

I tried to hide my grin behind a fake frown as I yelled back "Not never, Joseph Morelli!" But that was a lie. I'd made up my mind then and there; I'd kiss Joseph Morelli all he liked, if he'd just let me have a go on that trike. And even if I got bored of riding, I'd still talk to him. So what if mommy said he was no good—in my experience, the things mommy said were bad for me, I usually liked the best.