One
Ricky talks with the cashier at the front of the small store. It’s been weeks since we stopped at this one last, he honestly won’t remember us. The old-timer chats with my brother, mostly talking about the area. Ricky always liked to use the scenario that we were new to the area and that our parents just moved here and all that. He didn’t use this tactic last time, we were too anxious last time to come up with a plan. This time, though, we thought it all out in the parking lot.
I keep the brim of my hat pulled down, to hide my face. I don’t understand how the cashier forgot my brother’s face—nobody can forget a face like his, it’s just not possible. His dark wavy hair that falls right above his ears—the style everyone has—his tight-striped shirts he always wears, red baseball cap, tight jeans, seventeen-years-old, and a great smile. His eyes are also strikingly blue.
Ricky’s two years older than me, and a lot of people say that we share similarities, but I think they’re blind. I have blond hair, cut the same way as Ricky’s, green eyes, solid-color shirts, no caps, tight jeans as well, fifteen-years-old, and a crooked smile.
We just don’t look like we’re related at all. So, whenever people say “You and your brother look so alike!” I just kind of laugh. We do share the same interests though. That’s why we’re in this crummy place. We both like stealing and getting away with it.
“Well, we actually live down the road out there, it’s just a few minutes away. Know anywhere ‘round here to watch a movie?” I smirk to myself, for this is Ricky’s cue to start grabbing things in the back of the store. Every time we make these runs, I wear my puffy white coat with three horizontal colored lines on both sleeves, even though it’s seventy degrees outside. I grab a few chip bags, stuff them in my pockets, and two bottles of generic-brand soda. I walk up from the back, Ricky’s still talking to the old-timer, but he flicks his eyes over at me, seeing that I’ve done my job. “Did you find ‘em?” he asks me.
“Nah, they’re not here. I think there’s another store, more in town, if you want to check there?” He nods his head at me, but I know he’s not answering my question, he’s telling me I did good and to get the hell out now while he’s going to distract some more. Ricky says that it’s easier to pick places run by older people, they can’t remember a lot, especially us two boys coming in weeks earlier.
“Well, it’s been nice talking to you, sir—” Ricky sticks out his hand for the man to shake, but the old-timer just stares at him, a smile on his face. Ricky keeps his hand up, unsure of what to do.
“You boys think I’m dumb?” Ricky lowers his hand and shoots a look back at me, get out of here, now, you idiot! “Don’t think I don’t remember you both coming in here some time before and taking my stuff? Aw, you look shocked, think I’d forgotten, right?” Ricky and I both go stiff. The man looks around my brother, and straight at me. “Two sodas and two chip bags. Put them here, son, now.” He points down onto the surface of his counter. Ricky backs up into me, then turns around and tries to shove me out the door, but the man has now pulled out a shot-gun. I put my hands up and start to approach the counter, Ricky is on the verge of running out, ditching me, but the man points the double-barrel at him as well. “It wasn’t just your brother here, young man, you’re not going anywhere. Get over here as well.”
Ricky backs away from the door as well. He doesn’t look upset at all, like he knows this was coming, but I know why he’s so calm. “You two might not think those four items cost much, but they in fact do. Put them on the counter, son, and take those seats next to my register here. I’m going to call the cops, so you two hang tight.”
The man walks over to his rotary phone, picks it up, and starts to dial 911. I place the two bags of chips and the soda bottles on the counter. “Yes, hello, I’d like to report two boys in my store trying to steal something. I can tell you that,” he says into the phone.
“You should’ve just run out like I told you to,” Ricky says next to me, folding his arms. “You know, this is like the seventh time we’ve been busted. I guess we can’t come back here unless we have money.” Ricky laughs to himself. “And when do we ever have that?” I laugh along with him. “Old-timer here doesn’t know what he’s gettin' into,” Ricky manages to get out between his fits of laughter. I laugh even harder with him.
The man puts the phone down and shoots a look at us. “What’re you two so happy about, huh? Cops are coming, you’d think you’d be scared.” He lifts his shot-gun off the counter and places it back underneath, hidden from sight.
“This isn’t our first rodeo, sir,” Ricky tells him. A smile comes across his face and mine.
“I reckon it’s not, but it may just be your last, son,” the man says, watching out through his giant glass windows for a cop car to pull up. Ricky pulls off his red ball cap and runs his hands through his wavy hair, then places it back on to keep everything in place. I run a hand through mine as well, but it doesn’t form into place like Ricky’s, my hair is a bit like straw, not wavy like Ricky’s.
Ten minutes crawl by while Ricky and I sit silent, occasionally kicking each other out of pure boredom. A customer at the counter, an older woman, glances over at us as she is being checked out by the old man. “Caught them trying to steal from me,” he simply puts it. She nods her head at him, looks at us, then shakes her head. We have a mom who is used to doing that, we didn’t need it from her too.
I glance down at my shoes to avoid the woman’s cold stare until she leaves the store. Ricky is slumped forward, looking like he’s asleep, but I know he isn’t.
We finally hear a car pull up out front. The old man, along with the two of us, get up and look out to find a black and white cop car sitting right outside. We hear the ignition turn off and get comfortable in our chairs again. I look at Ricky and he looks at me. We’re both smiling.
The policeman gets out of his car, pulls up his pants a bit, shuts his door, and immediately makes eye contact with me through the glass window. Ricky lays back in his chair more and places his right leg over his left knee.
The policeman walks in, eyes us with a frown on his face, and heads up to the old man at the register. “’Bout time you got here, sir,” the old-timer says.
“What seems to be the problem?” The policeman tugs at his pants again.
“I caught these two delinquents trying to steal my stuff—again. First time I didn’t notice till they were long gone. But I’ve been waiting for this day to finally catch ‘em, and I finally did.” The old man sounded so proud of himself.
Ricky and I wait silently for the policeman to say something. He looks over at the bags of chips and the two soda bottles. He smacks his lips together, and says, “This what they tried stealing?”
“Yes, sir. Doesn’t even cost that much.”
I look at Ricky and whisper to him, “Didn’t he say that it costed a lot?” He just shrugs his shoulders and looks back over at the policeman.
“How much, exactly?”
“Well, I’d say around one dollar and ten cents,” the old man says, unsure of why this is being asked. The policeman digs around in his pocket, places a dollar bill on the counter along with a quarter.
“Keep the change. I’ll take the boys down with me to the station and get everything situated, alright? It’s not the first time I’ve seen these boys doing this.” The policeman looks over at us and I start laughing silently until Ricky hits my arm. “Come on, boys, let’s get you going.”
Ricky and I both get out of our chairs and stand next to the policeman. He picks up the two bags of chips and sodas and hands them to us. “What’re you giving them those for?” the old man asks.
“I have to bring it in for evidence, sir. I don’t have four arms to carry all of ‘em either.”
“Alright, makes sense. Now, I don’t ever want to see you two in here again, understand?” We both nod our heads next to the policeman. “Good. Unless you’ve got money on you, then that’s a different situation, or if you’re with your parents.” The policeman nods his head at the old man, then puts one hand on both of our backs and leads us out of the store.
We get to his car and hop in, Ricky taking the front seat as I am forced to sit in the back. The policeman climbs in and sits in his spot, not turning the car on.
“Hey, Dad,” Ricky manages to squeak out. My dad eyes me in the rearview mirror, then turns his head at Ricky.
“What’ve I told you about that store? It’s not safe to go back after a couple of weeks. You really should have waited a month, maybe even two.” Ricky pops open his bag of chips and starts to mow down on them.
“That’s what I told Jacob, but he didn’t listen.” I open my chip bag in the back as my dad starts up his car to leave the store’s parking lot. “He said we’d be fine. Guess I shouldn’t have listened to him.”
“Okay, because this was all on me, right? You’re the one who felt hungry in the first place!” I yell at him.
“Boys!” Our father’s voice boomed in the small space of the cop car. He was leaving the parking lot and heading on the road towards our house. “I don’t care which one of you decided to do it. You both got caught. I don’t know if I can keep letting you two off the hook for doing things like this . . . This has got to be the last time, understand? I could lose my job, let’s say, and we’ll all be living on the street. You two want to live on the street?” We stay silent. “By your silence, I take it as a no. Can’t you boys find other things to do to pass the time? You’re lucky I even let you two get away with it.”
“Dad, there’s not a whole lot to do around here. They haven’t changed the titles at the cinema, what else is there to do—”
“But steal? I can’t hold myself responsible in the near-distant future when you both end up in jail for stealing, say, diamonds! You both are gettin' jobs this summer, alright? I don’t want to hear any shit, you’re plenty old enough—hell, I should have made you work when you turned fifteen, Rick. You know, I was workin’—”
“We know the story, Dad, on Grandpa’s farm when you were six-years-old. Times are different now, okay? It’s not the forties anymore. Besides, we didn’t grow up on a farm like you did.”
“No, you didn’t, and you’re both pretty damn lucky.” It’s quiet for a few seconds before he says anything else. “I’m dropping you boys off at home, and you’re going to stay there. You can play in the backyard if you want.”
“’Cause there’s tons to do back there, right,” Ricky says, the sarcasm strong in his voice.
“You can find things to do, trust me. I’ll be home around five tonight, okay?” We both say “yes”. The car slows down as he pulls into our driveway. He stops it right in front of the garage and waits for Ricky and I to get out. We both do, but hesitate to run right inside. Our dad rolls down his window and sticks his head out at us. “If I see either one of you back in town, near that store, you’re both grounded, you hear?”
“Yep, Dad, we hear. Crystal clear.” He rolls up his window and backs out of the driveway, leaving us standing by ourselves. We both wait and watch as he drives away. “We can’t stay here, man, there’s nothing to do!”
“You heard him, Ricky, we can’t go back in town, not even to the arcade. We’re stuck here with Mom and Whiney.”
Whiney is our baby brother, but it’s not his actual name, just a nickname we like to call him. His name is actually Walker and he’s two-years-old. You can say he was a bit of an accident, but Mom sees him as just another little angel. At least Ricky is with me in seeing that Walker, is in fact, not an angel by any heavenly standards.
“Let’s just go in and listen to some music, alright? It’ll be dark before you know it anyway. Tomorrow’s Sunday, we can find something to do then.”
“Why do you think Dad is okay with us stealing?” I wasn’t prepared for this question from Ricky. “He’s a police officer, he abides by the law and shit, so why does he let his sons get away with stealing?”
“I don’t know. Why’re you bringing this up?”
“No reason, I was just curious. I’m not going in there with Whiney, Jacob, let’s just head to the backyard. None of your records will drown him out, trust me.”
We head around the house and to the backyard, which shouldn’t really be considered a backyard. Our house is placed nicely in the middle of a giant grass field that stretches for miles with similar-looking houses just a few yards away. A row of trees separates us from the deep woods that also stretch for miles, holding so many hidden secrets, along with our wooden-fort that’s buried inside.
We’re both staring down at the grass while walking towards our bonfire pit, where Ricky likes to start fires with his lighter that he stole from a store a while ago. He pulls out his lighter and starts flicking it against his jeans. Open and close.
Our heads both shoot up as something in the distance grabs our attention. A girl in a long black dress is running out of the line of trees, screaming for help. “Tell me you see that chick, too, right?”
She is running really fast towards us, her saviors. “Yeah, Rick, I see her. Where do you think she came from?”
“I don’t know, we’ll ask her.” She was coming right at us, holding her dress to the side in a clenched fist as she ran, while her other fist clenched around what looks like a leather boot.
“Help me! Please help!” She tripped over her bare feet and landed hard on the ground a few feet in front of us, the boot flying from her hand. She gets up quickly and runs up to Ricky and falls forward onto him. “My name is Amy Willows! My name is Amy Willows . . .” She passes out and falls down at his feet.
“Amy Willows? Who is she?” Ricky asks me, kneeling down next to the passed out girl.
“Oh my God. She went missing two years ago, remember? She was in my class.”
